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Pain was the first thing I felt when I woke up.
It wasn't sharp—it was dull, heavy, and everywhere. My body felt like it had been crushed and poorly stitched back together. Every breath sent a tremor through my chest, and even blinking made my head throb.
I was alive.
Barely.
The cavern was silent now. The beast from before was gone, its bloodstained tracks leading deeper into the shadows. I didn't know whether it had fled or was simply waiting to finish me off later.
I didn't have the strength to care.
I tried to move and immediately regretted it. A wave of pain surged through my small body, forcing a weak growl out of my throat. My limbs trembled uncontrollably, and my wings—if they could even be called that—felt like dead weight attached to my back.
So weak…
I lowered my head and caught sight of my reflection again in the shallow pool beside me.
A tiny dragon stared back.
Its scales were dark and cracked, some chipped away to reveal raw flesh beneath. One of its horns was shorter than the other, broken at the tip. Its wings were thin, torn, and clearly underdeveloped—useless for flight.
This wasn't just a dragon.
This was the weakest kind of dragon.
A bitter laugh echoed in my mind, though my mouth could no longer form human sounds.
"Of all things… why this?"
My memories were intact. I still remembered my life as a human—stress, exhaustion, quiet regrets. And now, instead of rest or oblivion, I had been thrown into a world where even monsters hunted each other relentlessly.
Reborn… as prey.
A faint sensation stirred within me, subtle but unmistakable. It felt like something deep inside my chest—warm, pulsing slowly, like a fragile ember refusing to go out.
Instinctively, I focused on it.
The world seemed to sharpen.
I became aware of my body in a way I never had before. The weakness, the injuries, the shallow flow of energy barely circulating through my veins—it all felt measurable, as if my existence itself could be broken down and examined.
I didn't see floating windows or glowing letters.
But I understood.
I was alive because something inside me was still growing.
A dragon's core.
Small. Cracked. Incomplete.
If it shattered, I would die.
If it grew… I would live.
The realization was terrifying—and oddly calming.
"This world isn't giving me a second chance," I thought. "It's testing whether I deserve to exist at all."
A low rumble echoed somewhere above the cavern. Dust fell from the ceiling as distant roars answered one another. Whatever lived in this place, I was at the very bottom of its hierarchy.
Staying here meant death.
With trembling limbs, I dragged my body forward, claws scraping against stone. Each movement sent pain through my nerves, but I forced myself onward. Toward a narrow crack in the cavern wall—too small for larger beasts to enter easily.
It took everything I had just to reach it.
By the time I collapsed inside the crevice, my vision was fading again. My body curled instinctively, protecting the fragile core within my chest.
Darkness crept in at the edges of my sight.
But before I lost consciousness, one final thought burned itself into my mind.
"I don't need to be a hero."
I just need to survive.
And if survival demands blood, claws, and fangs—
Then I will become worthy of this body.
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