"Roar-hiss-hiss!"
The deformed dragon's soul was consumed by resentment and rage. Its skin, devoid of protective scales, was covered in fragile nerves; every movement brought extreme agony.
Yet it continued to roll and chase in a frenzy, trapping itself in an infinite cycle of pain.
Daeron's initial fear had vanished, replaced only by an indescribable, faint sadness.
So it wasn't that the family had no dragons.
It was that every dragon capable of breaking its shell on its own had become a congenitally incomplete deformity.
His hands were trembling slightly.
In his eyes, that was not a monster or a freak, but property that should have belonged to his family.
A dragon! A real, genuine dragon!
Only because the tides of magic were insufficient had it become deformed.
"If it were in my hands, it certainly wouldn't have ended up like this."
Daeron thought of the newly discovered nest of dragon eggs, his heart filled with regret.
With that thought,
He decided not to leave; he wanted to end the suffering of this deformed dragon.
A young dragon is only the size of a house cat when it hatches; this six-meter-long dragon body must have lived for at least three years.
If it were a healthy dragon, he would have turned and run immediately.
But a deformed creature without limbs or scales, which struggled even to move and whose only method of attack was breathing fire—he was confident he could kill it.
Shing!
The neptune greatsword was drawn, its azure blue forming a sharp contrast with the dark red of the cavern.
"Clack clack clack!"
The Lava Bighead crawled over sneakily, trying to bite Daeron's legs.
This was the crawling monster that had bitten and injured Prince Lewyn.
"I don't know how you were born, but you did a good job."
Daeron swung the greatsword; sparks flew as it struck the iron shell of the Lava Bighead, but he couldn't land a killing blow.
However, forcing it back time and again also dealt significant damage to the Lava Bighead.
He didn't strike again, instead rushing toward the deformed dragon scurrying among the rock piles.
Squelch!
A sword thrust out, easily piercing the flesh of the deformed dragon, causing foul blood as hot as magma to gush out.
Daeron hurriedly dodged, not wanting to be burned to a crisp.
"Roar-hiss-hiss!"
The deformed dragon was enraged by the wound; it was a beast entirely without intelligence, raising its head to spit fire aimlessly, filling the cavern with thick smoke.
Daeron fought while retreating, luring the deformed dragon and the Lava Bighead together toward the pile of purplish-red ore.
The deformed dragon wasn't hard to deal with.
Aside from its powerful flames, it was absurdly weak in every other aspect—completely a fire-breathing sponge that couldn't move.
Once the two monsters were close,
Daeron used a rock to leap into the air, landing on the deformed dragon's back and gripping the neptune greatsword with both hands in a reverse hold.
"Goodbye!"
As the words fell, the azure greatsword plunged straight down, piercing the weak point where the deformed dragon's skull met its spine in one go.
This pathetic dragon collapsed with a crash, its pain-filled body finding liberation for the first time.
"Clack clack clack!"
The massive dragon corpse fell, landing squarely on the Lava Bighead, which was then submerged by the gushing, scalding dragon blood.
The Lava Bighead was heat-resistant, but even it couldn't withstand temperatures comparable to magma.
It died on the spot, smoke rising from its corpse.
Daeron immediately retreated, running a long distance away before lying down in a corner, covering his ears and opening his mouth.
When a Lava Bighead dies, it produces a small-scale explosion.
Boom!!
The Lava Bighead's corpse exploded; the aftershock blew the deformed dragon's body into two pieces and cleared away all the nearby rocks.
When Daeron stood up again, three items had appeared out of thin air on the clearing besides the dragon corpse.
A huge, deep purple tooth, two sun essences, and a pile of volcanic crystal stones rich in fire magic... materials only drop after killing monsters.
Daeron collected the precious materials and walked to the deformed dragon's corpse, guessing, "Did you survive with your deformed body because you ate Lava Mushrooms?"
He still remembered the root systems of those fungi.
It was likely that after the deformed dragon hatched, it accidentally ate the Lava Mushrooms grown from Dragonmont, and its powerful Life Force allowed it to stubbornly survive.
And eating mushrooms containing Life Force had also made it special.
Similar to the special cows of Count Owen's family.
That's why it dropped a Dragon Tooth upon death and had even spawned a Lava Bighead.
Dragon Tooth: Rumor has it this is the tooth of an ancient giant serpent. Its enamel is composed of pure iridium!
In a game, this would be a precious material needed even in the late game.
"But you aren't a giant serpent; you're a dragon."
Daeron pulled out the neptune greatsword he hadn't had time to retrieve, bringing with it a spray of dragon blood.
"Prince!"
"Prince, how are you!?"
Barristan and Ser Jon rushed into the cavern, just in time to see Daeron with one foot on the dragon's skull, forcefully pulling out the greatsword.
"..."
Ser Jon's face turned red, his excitement beyond control.
Barristan's mind went blank, and he blurted out, "the Bold Prince."
Daeron looked back calmly... Night fell.
Shae was left in Elia's room, and Elia pulled her aside for a quiet conversation.
When she married, she hadn't met Rhaegar's family.
Meeting Daeron for the first time had left a very good impression on her.
Elia also naturally felt a bit of fondness and closeness toward this quiet young girl.
Especially since her ability to marry Rhaegar had a lot to do with Shae herself.
"Do you want to sleep for a while?"
Elia helped her change into a nightgown and even took out a comb, wanting to brush her hair.
Shae looked toward Dragonmont, sensing something: "They are coming back."
"Who?" Elia was startled.
Shae: "Dragons!"
...Dragonmont.
An area had been cleared, with a large pile of wood stacked into the shape of an altar, surrounded by bright torches.
Daeron stood in the center of the altar, placing the three dragon eggs in order.
One was entirely red with golden spots and black spirals.
One was mostly cobalt blue, with blue-purple and honey-yellow gradients on the exterior.
One was a faint green, its shell seemingly shrouded in black mist, appearing both black and green.
These three dragon eggs were found from the ruins of Whitewalls, the Hightowers of Oldtown, and the depths of Dragonmont, respectively.
"Tonight, I want you to return to the world."
Daeron then took out the Dragon Tooth, three sun essences, and over a dozen volcanic crystal stones, piling them around the dragon eggs.
Just in case, he also laid the two severed halves of the deformed dragon's corpse across the base of the altar.
Hatching dragon eggs required nothing more than vitality and fire magic.
sun essence replenished vitality, while volcanic crystal stones provided abundant fire magic.
The Dragon Tooth would stir the dragon bloodline.
The corpse of the deformed dragon might have some unexpected effect.
Daeron: "It must succeed!"
The moment he killed the deformed dragon, he had a vague realization that dragons would return to the world.
He stepped down from the altar, took the torch handed to him by Davos, and threw it heavily onto the pile.
Whoosh!
The wood ignited quickly, becoming a massive bonfire that illuminated the night sky.
Barristan said, "Prince, step back a bit; the fire is still building strength."
Seeing the bones of that deformed dragon and understanding what Prince Daeron intended to do,
His previous understanding was completely overturned; he could only silently stay by the Prince's side.
Daeron said nothing, staring intently at the bonfire.
Seeing this, Barristan sighed softly and signaled to Ser Jon and Davos; the three of them spread out to guard the perimeter.
The Dragon Guards of Dragonmont had been bribed; they wouldn't appear before dawn.
But hatching dragon eggs was a major event; if successful, there would be three dragons.
At this moment, anyone who approached was an enemy.
The fire burned, the wood grease crackling as it caught fire—the only sound tonight capable of masking their heavy breathing.
Thump! Thump!
His heart beat like a drum, as if it were about to jump out of his throat.
Daeron clenched his fists, his blood flowing so fast he could hardly contain himself.
Time passed minute by minute... Midnight, 00:00.
The bonfire was still vigorous, but there was no unusual movement or sound.
Daeron went from tension to expectation, from expectation to apprehension, and finally to panic and bouts of heart palpitations.
"Something's wrong. Why is there still no movement?"
He sensed something was amiss.
Davos, being the most quick-witted speaker, hurriedly comforted him: "Prince, the fire is still large; perhaps it just needs time."
"No! It's not a matter of time!"
Daeron's brain worked frantically, racking his mind to figure out which step had gone wrong.
Dragon Tooth, vitality, fire magic... all three requirements were met.
What was the scene like when Daenerys hatched her young dragons?
Daeron's eyes flickered, as if playing a film in reverse.
The Khal's life brought vitality, the witch brought fire magic, and Daenerys herself... "Dragon blood!"
Daeron's heart sank as he said, "The Dragon Tooth purifies dragon blood, but the young dragons need the blood of a true dragon bloodline as a catalyst to break their shells."
In other words, a blood sacrifice.
more chapter available in p@tréøñ(Atoki_29)