The former Demon King, Baimeng—that madman who sought to drag the entire world into ruin—had once, in his dying moments, mixed his own blood and flesh into the flames. With despair and resentment, he cursed Nidhogg, condemning him to live out his days alone, forever a solitary dragon. Nowhere would he belong, no place would accept him.

“No one will love you, no one will understand you, and no one will ever truly be like you. You are destined to be the cast-off pawn of the ancient dragons.”

Just as they cast off Esther.

Esther resembled a Hui, a magical plant existing only in the ancient era, said to be deeply cherished by the gods. When suspended in the heavens, it resembled a magnificent sea of billions of stars, each strand of light chanting the hymns of the divine court.

This plant’s growth was uniquely nomadic, drifting its entire life like a dandelion. Yet while dandelions scattered their seeds far and wide on the wind, Esther seldom chose to root itself anywhere. Indifferent to the continuation of its kind, it simply grew carelessly and died just as casually.

During the New Arts Era, Esther plants swept across the continent, beloved by the ancient dragon clan, Preier Clan, for their use in navigation.

No one knew how the ancient dragons achieved it, but their every appearance was accompanied by a sky filled with dancing golden specks, inspiring countless imitations.

Yet what the dragons built, the dragons destroyed. After these madmen—bold enough to provoke a war against the gods and actually prevail—vanished, Esther plants also faded from the continent. Later scholars even dismissed them as mythical flora, impossible to exist.

Some saw them as symbols of wisdom guiding the way, while others viewed them as harbingers of restless, ill-omened existence.

Take the Demon King Bymon, for instance—he believed the latter. He cursed Nidhogg, declaring that when the dragon died, nothing would remain beside him but Esther.

As the cursed dragon himself, Nidhogg had only one thing to say about this: Why should I care if anyone loves me? I am a dragon.

That barking idiot of a demon lord really ought to give his brain some serious training.

Alas, he never got the chance—he was already dead.

Scorched beneath Nidhogg’s fiery breath.

The reason this old story resurfaced was that Nidhogg chose to lead the expedition to the temple ruins. Alina mentioned that adventurers had witnessed the legendary Esther soaring there: “Being recognized by an ancient dragon as a symbol of wisdom should suit your requirements, right?”

Alina had said.

Nidhogg was thoroughly satisfied with this answer and immediately decided to land on the Timaia Peninsula, the closest point to the Weeping Cliffs where the temple stood.

If it was still there.

As the legendary site of the Fall of the Gods, the Rift Forest possessed complex and unpredictable terrain. Its spatial instability rivaled that of the Chaos Abyss—though the Abyss’s instability manifested as randomly opening portals that slaughtered all creatures and objects within, while the Rift Forest’s instability manifested as constant terrain shifts that would unknowingly ensnare adventurers.

Scholars specializing in the Rift Forest have offered an explanation: though it appears as a single entity, it is actually divided into thousands of distinct plots of varying sizes. These plots behave like Rubik’s cubes, shifting and reassembling without any discernible pattern.

This means that Point A, where you stand today, might still be on the forest’s outskirts, yet by morning, you could find yourself in its very heart.

These fragments range from mere square meters to vast expanses like the Kabala Forest of the Elven tribes, spanning thousands of miles.

Each fragment’s movement is utterly unpredictable—some shift daily, others remain static for millennia. Just when you believe it’s a fixed anchor point, it suddenly undergoes a major realignment.

No matter what magical methods are employed, or even when surveying the entire forest from above, the dense canopy obscures the true conditions beneath. Even elves who have lived in this forest for generations rarely venture beyond the borders of the Kabala Forest.

This is why Alina suggested visiting the Spring Temple first. The Great Labyrinth and the dark elves could be sought out anytime, but such a suddenly appearing temple might vanish completely after its next shift, leaving no trace to be found.

The dragon hunting party transformed into agile humanoid forms better suited for traversing the forest, descending one by one. Entering the ever-shifting, enigmatic woods was like a drop of water vanishing into the sea.

Perpetually shrouded by towering trees that blocked out the sky, the forest echoed with strange, unidentifiable cries. Misty vapors constantly billowed through the air, so thick and damp that it felt as if one could wring water from it at any moment.

Yet the stifling humidity was the least significant aspect of this adventure.

The dragon clan was fortunate this time; after walking for a short while, they found the Weeping Cliff. The Spring Temple still stood atop the steep cliff face, not having moved an inch. A temple, overgrown with vines and moss, rose silently from the earth. Its scent blended the earthy stench of decaying soil, the subtle fragrance of magical flora, and an indescribable, ancient aura.

Like most plants in this forest, though rooted in muddy soil, it yearned for the open sky. Together with the epiphytes clinging to its walls, it continued to creep upward, growing ever higher.

As if alive.

The dragonkin watched this eerie spectacle with palpable apprehension.

For within those epiphytes, they truly glimpsed the shadow of Esther from millennia past. Though perhaps not her true form, it was undeniably a variant interwoven within.

Esther’s vitality was exceptionally resilient, capable of thriving almost anywhere magic lingered. Yet it would only take root when it deemed the location sufficiently safe, ensuring the continuation of its kind. The mere presence of so many Esthers drifting near the Spring Temple, none choosing to settle, spoke volumes about the peril.

Of course, the most crucial factor was that Nidhogg himself had halted his advance.

That face, usually so arrogant and overbearing, now wore an expression as if confronting an unprecedented challenge. One must remember that even when facing the Demon King who sought to destroy the world, he had never displayed such a look of grave readiness.

“Is it that dangerous? Maybe we should head for the Dark Elf royal family first. Stealing openly is illegal, but if we aren’t caught, it’s not a crime,” suggested Lei Long, the seasoned rogue from Fa.

While high risk often brings high reward, if even Nidhogg is exercising caution, they’d be wise to heed the advice. Alina suggested switching to a lesser prey target first, returning to prepare properly before making this place their final hunting ground.

Yes, she would not abandon the Spring Temple. Such was the nature of dragons—beneath their formidable power, arrogance, and greed always lay at their core.

Nidhogg finally snapped back to attention. “Hm? Why change?“ This spot was perfect—he was quite satisfied with it as the first stop for his son’s power upgrade.

”Then why the frown?“

”Oh, I’m still pondering the cub’s name.” Nidhogg had been thinking about it all along. Though his list of potential names stretched as long as a dozen-foot parchment scroll, when it came time to choose, he always found fault with this one or that one.

Take Theodor, for instance—blessed by the Goddess of Light. Sounds nice, right? But then he wondered: Why only the Goddess of Light? What about the Dragon God? The Dark God? And the Goddess of Fortune?

Or take Nom, symbolizing sacred wisdom. What about health? Happiness? Wealth?

Each seemed perfect at first glance, but held no up to scrutiny.

Alina: “…”

Other Dragons: “…”

They clearly recognized the flawed logic in his reasoning, yet found themselves drawn into his train of thought, gradually convinced by his arguments. What to do?

Dragon parents, still searching for names, grew even more anxious. Those who had settled on promising options now plunged into deep self-doubt.

Amidst this eerie silence, Nidhogg—utterly oblivious to the mental turmoil he’d unleashed upon every dragon—acted as if nothing was amiss. He simply summoned his black wings and soared skyward. Once reaching sufficient altitude, he unleashed a dragon’s breath, a concentrated blast of his entire being. The ultra-high heat, purple-white with flames, instantly engulfed the entire temple.

The dragons of the hunting party were horrified. In the flames that seemed capable of consuming all evil in the world, the danger was gone, but so was the temple! Aaaaaaah!

Only Nidhogg remained expressionless in the sky, shrugging his shoulders before gliding back into formation. He glanced curiously at the flustered dragons, pondering for a moment before clapping his left palm against his right fist. “Ah, my apologies,” he declared. “I forgot to ask if you’d like to grill something while we’re at it. What would you prefer? I brought honey and spices.”

…Well, you’re doing a pretty good job as a dragon, then.

Wait, why did you burn the temple? What good does burning it do for us?

Nidhogg just looked even more puzzled. “If it couldn’t withstand my flames, what value did it hold for marking our young?”

Look at it this way: whatever survives his flames afterward must be a treasure worth bringing back, right?

No danger, just treasure. Simple, brutal, and a permanent solution. What to do? He makes such a compelling argument, I’m starting to believe him.

But disbelief was futile. After all, the ancient dragon’s fire had already begun to burn, and it wouldn’t stop until its target was consumed.

He’d even meticulously erected an invisible barrier around the ruins to prevent accidental damage and forest fires.

Very eco-friendly.

The ancient dragon’s breath fire was famously swift and effective. Whatever dangers once existed were now reduced to treasures resilient enough to withstand the dragon’s flames.

They actually got the real thing!

The entire hunting party erupted with unprecedented excitement. Not only had today’s haul been bountiful, but the efficiency was extraordinary—they could finally head home!

All dragons were eager to return home, with Nidhogg leading the pack. Carrying the temple’s treasures, he demonstrated what it meant to fly like the wind, repeatedly accelerating until he left nearly all the other dragons in the hunting party far behind.

Only the thunder dragon Alina could barely keep pace, though she could only glimpse his tail.

Yet Alina wasn’t worried about losing him. She felt she’d finally grasped the true reason behind Nidhogg’s earlier frown. As a seasoned dragon, she knew exactly where he was headed—the pink sands of Helheim’s Tooth.

It could only be this place.

For this was where the dragon clan collectively raised their young.

Many new dragon parents were like this. On their first day joining the hunting party, they couldn’t bear to stray far from their dragon eggs. The slightest separation left them restless and anxious.

Nidhogg had once looked down on this behavior, thinking they weren’t true dragons at all. But now that it was his turn, he finally understood. Even though he had everything planned out, even though the youngling was perfectly fine when he left, even though he knew he could finish quickly and bring back treasures beneficial to the youngling’s growth, he still couldn’t stop worrying.

Of course, from Nidhogg’s perspective, his worries were entirely justified. After all, other dragons left behind dragon eggs. In these times of declining dragon populations, every young dragon was precious. The dragons left behind would never harm them.

But his son was different.

Many dragons were xenophobic snobs, looking down on all other races as weak and foolish, utterly unworthy of being considered fellow intelligent beings.

Dragons like Nidhogg, who would raise young of other species, were rare oddities.

Truth be told, Alina was a bit worried. Nidhogg’s young was lovely and adorable, but certain dragons left behind might not be so kind. Though she had complete faith in her boyfriend, Purle was timid and prone to tears, yet a dragon who’d fight to the death to protect the young—keeping the young unharmed and unalarmed were two entirely different matters.

Before they even reached the shallow waters near the beach, the clang of blades clashing echoed through the air, as if confirming Alina’s fears.

Nidhogg’s golden pupils suddenly contracted, and an unprecedented, viscous danger erupted from his entire being, as if he were darkness itself. It also made Alina suddenly realize that Nidhogg had been remarkably courteous during their previous confrontation. The dragon accelerated again, churning up rolling waves on the sea surface, nearly flinging the pursuing thunder dragon straight off course.

When Alina finally caught up, she saw that dragons were indeed clashing—but…

The scene before her wasn’t quite what they’d expected.

The green dragon, carrying its dragon egg, now charged toward the wooden dragon while holding aloft its giggling youngling. Trailing behind them were numerous colorful dragons, each declaring, “You’ve been a dragon rider long enough! Now it’s my turn—I should be Nilsen’s mount!” “Nonsense! It should be me!”

“Nilsen, what do you say? Let’s join forces and beat them to a pulp!”

Nilsen, son of Nidhogg.

Before dragon eggs are named, they’re always called this.

Worried the son wouldn’t be accepted by the dragon clan? Not a chance. Ai Ai, little ones adapt to this like kittens arriving at a new home. All you need to do is bring them back, then leave the rest to the little cat.

Because they have no fixed home, they can adapt anywhere.

They don’t particularly care about anyone, nor do they feel others care especially about them.

Always alone, yet unaware of the loneliness.

Just like he was as a child.

“Esther.” The dragon blurted out instinctively.

In that very instant, as if connected by telepathy, his son, perched atop the green dragon’s head, turned back amidst the dragon herd. His eyes shone brightly, like the most dazzling star among countless others.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

Author’s Note:

Nonsense Skit:

Dragon Father: The Demon King’s curse was right—I’ll always have Esther by my side. Let’s say it together: Thanks, Demon King.

Demon King Baimeng: ￥%%#……&&*（%&（Censored due to excessive profanity）