Back when Aki had just gotten pregnant, Logan had not paid much attention to the little one's existence yet. At the time, he had planned to keep everything simple: either call him Loga or Logi, and if he really was not satisfied, he would just follow the usual practice of Fire Wyverns—wait until the hatchling's intelligence improved a bit and let them come up with their own names. After all, for an ordinary Fire Wyvern, this was just a code name; even calling it "Roar" would be fine.
Even if that sounded extremely perfunctory, among monsters, only high-tier creatures like Fire Wyverns—those with a sense of family and a partial sense of group identity, and intelligence that actually passed the bar—would even do this.
But now—
Perhaps some ideas from his previous life were still influencing Logan, and because the Ancient Tree Fire Wyvern clan had already developed a unique, strictly hierarchical prototypical civilization, he now had the thought of giving his own offspring a proper name.
Besides, given the little one's intelligence, he could easily understand the significance a name held for him.
"So what should I call him, then?"
After sailing through life smoothly for so many years, Logan once again felt that his brain was not up to the task. Lying on the ground, he stared up at the bright moon in the sky with his eyes wide open, feeling a bit resentful.
What happened to that super brain an Elder Dragon was supposed to have? Even someone like Mother Chameleos had a little something going on—so why didn't he?
Logan subconsciously overlooked the fact that, in the entire world, Mother Chameleos was the only Chameleos who had forcibly mutated into a subspecies by popping drugs. It was just that Mother Chameleos's usual behavior was far too unreliable, and that occasionally thin sense of presence always made people subconsciously ignore her.
Still, to be honest, when you put aside the matter of connotations, naming is actually mostly just a case of choice paralysis.
The next day, Logan, his eyes slightly bloodshot, came over to the little one in the nest who was lying there with his mouth stretched wide in a yawn. Aki, who had just gotten up beside them, immediately became alert, afraid Logan would roll the little one back into a ball again.
"Roar!" (From now on, you'll be called Loren!)
After agonizing over it all night, Logan had closed his eyes and jabbed at the list. In the end, out of a bunch of names that fit this world's culture fairly well, he picked this one, whose transliteration sounded somewhat similar to the Latin word for "laurel."
When the little one saw Logan's state, he had already been prepared to start wailing on the spot and accuse his old father of his atrocities right in front of his mother, but the sound stuck directly in his throat.
He… had a name now?
"Ooga?"
Clumsily imitating Logan's roar, the little one tried again and again to say his own name in that tender voice.
As for Tonkotsu, who had come early in the morning to take over the shift, when he heard Logan's words, he froze for a moment, then shot a look at another cat from the Fire Wyvern Guard Team. That cat understood at once, a delighted cat grin on his face as he dropped to all fours and dashed out of the nest.
Tonkotsu reached out and pressed his hand down hard to rub the head of the cat kitten beside him whose mottled coat, unlike the usual red-gray tones of normal Fire Wyvern Grimalkynes, was a bicolor of orange and red.
This was Tonkotsu's child, named Bunbun. Today he had brought the young Bunbun along because he wanted Bunbun to serve as the "young lord's"—that is, little Loren's—hunting training cat.
Having inherited more of his Felyne mother's coat, Bunbun looked in a daze at his sturdy father, then finally let his gaze fall on little Loren, who was calling his own name over and over. Thinking of the bits of news he had heard in Blazefire Village over these past days, his eyes gradually grew resolute.
Very soon, little Loren's name spread throughout the entire Ancient Tree by way of the cats' mouths; even the Research Commission over there received the news.
Their level of attention toward Logan's hatchling was no lower. As of now, the New World's Research Commission and the Elder Dragons were becoming more and more tightly bound together. Although they all knew that Elder Dragons possessed extremely long lifespans and that, among Elder Dragons, Logan was still one of the youngest, it would still be an excellent thing to have one more Elder Dragon close to humans in the future.
In this way, the little one's name was settled. For some reason, the Ancient Tree briefly entered into a few days of inexplicable excitement, as if there were a feeling that the world had been set at peace and the throne now had an heir.
This kind of atmosphere left Logan somewhat at a loss.
The strict rules of the Ancient Tree Fire Wyvern clan were already there, and Logan had no intention of changing them. Whether little Loren would stay in the Ancient Tree in the future was another matter. As for these cats getting excited, he let it be; after all, even if, in the future, the number of cats became so great that some would have to be sent out, choosing to follow little Loren, who had grown up in the Ancient Tree environment, would be one possible choice.
But what were those Fire Wyverns getting worked up about as well?
Still, there was one good thing: after little Loren had his own name, for some reason he finally started getting close to Logan. Even when he was rolled into a ball, he no longer tattled so casually. Instead, those big deep blue eyes of his would, at times, fix tightly on Logan, and every so often, when Logan was listening to reports or issuing orders, he would spread those small wings of his and clumsily imitate Logan's posture.
Just as Logan was entering a new stage of bonding, back behind Astera's rear mountain, a Tempered Chameleos was sneaking around, following a scent and creeping its way over.
Just as it lifted its head to observe the surroundings—as if searching for something—the young Chameleos suddenly jumped out from the plantation.
A pair of large eyes strikingly similar to Mother Chameleos's locked onto this uninvited guest, its invisibility lifting at once as its body rapidly shifted through different colors.
Don't misunderstand—this was not anything like a peacock attracting a mate by displaying multicolored patterns.
This was a Chameleos issuing a warning to an unfamiliar member of its own kind that had trespassed into its territory. The more simultaneous colors appeared on its body and the faster they shifted, the higher its alertness. When the many colors fixed into place, the next step would be to take the initiative and drive out this unfamiliar same-species intruder.
Although a Chameleos did not have a particularly strong sense of territory, Astera counted as the young Chameleos's most crucial core territory since it had grown up there. Aside from that old mother who bullied it constantly, even its brother who occasionally passed through while "repaying debts" would receive its warning—let alone this unfamiliar yet strong Chameleos.
The Tempered Chameleos tilted its head as it looked at the young Chameleos before it. The more it looked, the more familiar it seemed, especially those eyes—seemingly dopey, yet inexplicably full of cleverness.
"Gwa!" (Oh no! Don't tell me this one is mine?)
As one of the representatives of parents who let go of their offspring after birth, Chameleos were not as twisted as Astalos when dealing with their young. They simply found raising offspring troublesome.
But this Tempered Chameleos had followed the scent of its long-unseen partner—whom it had not met in decades—all the way here. And now, seeing a young Chameleos who might actually be its offspring made its heart tighten in panic.
After all, if the young Chameleos had been living with Mother Chameleos—raised by her, even—then staying away was fine; but the moment it showed up in front of Mother Chameleos, wouldn't it have to take on the responsibility of being the father?
Without the slightest hesitation, the moment this possibility crossed its mind, the Tempered Chameleos decisively turned around to leave.
But as a wave of mandragora fragrance drifted in, and in the Tempered Chameleos's disbelieving gaze, a flicker of light and shadow flashed in the nearby underbrush. Mother Chameleos was there, staring at it with dead-fish eyes.
"How did I fail to notice her, gwa!!" The Tempered Chameleos could not believe it, its eyes bulging wide.
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