Oh dear, the little one still didn’t know his name had been decided just like that.

He paused and turned back, feeling like he’d heard a familiar pronunciation. As a fellow member of the old “Ai” family, the little one was quite sensitive about his own name.

And sure enough, he heard the same syllables several more times afterward. Even though he didn’t understand a word, the little one listened intently for a long time, his golden eyes wide with excitement.

Nidhogg was actually saying to his son, “Esther is such a good name, isn’t it?” You must agree—beloved by the gods, once celebrated across Farreus, companion to ancient dragons, symbolizing courage and wisdom… He practically listed every conceivable virtue of Esther to his son. Don’t ask him where he saw the courage—this magical plant roams the world for its entire life. Isn’t that brave enough?

After repeatedly confirming the youngling truly looked at him because of this name, the black dragon became even more certain it was a rare gem of a name.

He finally added, “Most importantly, Esther can be shortened to El, making it easier when copying sentences as punishment in school.”

Other newbie parents eavesdropping in the shadows: “…”

Reasons for naming are countless, but alas, little El couldn’t yet grasp his dragon dad’s thoughtful intentions. He didn’t even know he’d gained a dragon father in this world.

He only belatedly realized this starting village seemed a bit different from what he’d imagined.

Yes, as far as El understood, his current experience boiled down to teaming up with a dragon he knew and heading to the newbie village together.

After days of memory chaos, the little one still hadn’t recalled much. But at least he’d emerged from the fog of acting purely on instinct, gaining a rough grasp of his situation: he’d teamed up with a dragon boss who looked seriously powerful, spent the past few days setting up their in-game home, and was finally ready to tackle the newbie quests.

Even without Nidhogg sending his son to join the group childcare, the little one would likely have taken his first steps to explore the world on his own.

Alright, he really should have done this long ago.

But Mr. Dragon’s ice cream was simply too delicious. After every meal, he couldn’t resist eating a lot. Eating too much made him sleepy, and sleepiness meant bedtime. By the time he woke up, the whole day had just flown by.

These past few days, Esther had been pondering a very serious question—who exactly had stolen his time?

Unfortunately, this was an answer even many adults probably wouldn’t know.

The little one never wasted energy on internal struggles. He spent the entire day diligently working for his and Mr. Dragon’s team on the pink sands of the newbie village. He questioned every “NPC” he saw, trying to trigger the first chain of errand quests in the newbie village.

But this newbie village was really tough.

The little kid sighed.

Not only was there a language barrier, but he couldn’t tell who was an NPC and who was a player. The initial quest acquisition process was extremely bumpy.

But brave El wasn’t afraid of difficulties.

After countless trial-and-error attempts (and various rejections), he finally secured his first quest in the newbie village through sheer social persistence (persistent pestering).

—Deliver small bread rolls to Uncle Green Dragon, who lived right next to their homestead.

Green Dragon Purle was currently showing Nidhogg the memory crystal, which recorded the little one’s entire day in crystal-clear detail.

Well, it was only a few hours—the hunting party had never been this efficient.

Nidhogg watched his son repeatedly approach and be repeatedly rejected in the crystal, his fists clenching. But just before he lost his temper, he saw Green Dragon’s solution.

Though a first-time father himself, the exceptionally nurturing Green Dragon Purle had anticipated the youngster’s potential predicament before bringing Nidhogg’s cub today, preparing two contingency plans.

Namely: the youngster persisting in friendship despite repeated failures, and the youngster never speaking to other dragons again.

The latter path wasn’t necessary, as it never came to pass. Nidhogg’s young one truly was remarkably forgiving—so much so that even Purle, who easily forgave other dragons (like quickly forgetting Nidhogg’s earlier threats), found himself thinking: You don’t have to be this understanding.

Purle’s heart ached deeply.

Yet in a way, he understood the young dragon’s choice.

Because he’d been that way too. From childhood, he’d been timid and prone to tears, lacking strength and struggling to make friends. He’d always been a solitary dragon.

He knew some dragons simply didn’t care about such things, like the legendary ancient dragon Nidhogg. Everyone feared Nidhogg’s power and madness; few dragons dared approach him. Nidhogg had only himself, but the great dragon didn’t mind. After all, fierce beasts always roamed alone—it was cattle and sheep that needed to travel in herds.

The green dragon Purle envied such psychologically strong dragons immensely, but… he just couldn’t manage it. He knew his own weakness made him easy prey for others’ contempt, yet he truly longed for a friend.

Even if it meant crashing headfirst a thousand times, he yearned for friendship—just one would suffice.

He was fortunate. Under the Dragon God’s blessing, he eventually met Alina—a formidable young dragon who would scold him for being hopelessly clumsy, yet fiercely defend him against any dragon daring to bully him. She was his only friend for a long time, and the dragon he could never stop loving.

So, thought the green dragon Purle, he understood Nilsen’s choice and was willing to help him achieve his dream of friendship.

Before heading out, the green dragon prepared a basket of honey cakes.

They were made with the finest honeycomb from the Light-Healing Bees.

Adult dragons could gain further strength by consuming certain foods, so different dragon species generally preferred different things—except honey.

It was hard to explain why, but most dragons were like this. Honey was one of the few foods they ate, not just for power. Of course, dragons occasionally produced variants like Elder Byron, who loved eating everything, but he was a rare exception.

Most dragons remain devoted to honey, especially the honeycombs of the Light-Healing Bees. If the queen bee’s honey—which takes thirty to fifty years to produce just a few ounces—were added, it would be a lethal combination.

The green dragon had toiled for years to finally obtain several nests of Light-Healing Bees. He practically emptied a third of his stockpile (another third belonged to Alina, and the final third was reserved for their young) to bake honey cakes overnight—treats no dragon could resist.

And indeed, when the little one set out again with his bread baskets, visiting every dragon on the beach, very few could bring themselves to refuse a taste.

But the Green Dragon’s help ended there. He never imagined it would unfold into this marvelous spectacle.

Clearly, this wasn’t solely due to the charm of the honey cakes—at least not entirely. Otherwise, the green dragon Purle would likely have already unified the dragon clans and crowned himself king.

What truly made these proud dragons set aside their prejudices was that when little El handed them the cakes, he truly meant only to give them, without attaching any other meaning or purpose to the act.

He seemed to have completed some monumental task. After the dragon accepted his sweet, fluffy, frosted pastry, he promptly trotted off on his busy little legs toward the next dragon.

This felt somewhat unfamiliar to dragons accustomed to others approaching them with ulterior motives.

It wasn’t that they were cheapskates, always demanding something in return. Though dragons were greedy by nature, they weren’t so shameless as to take advantage of a youngling.

When a crimson female dragon attempted to offer the child a pigeon-egg-sized gem as thanks—she could swear to the Dragon God she only meant to establish boundaries, to be even—that gem being the most commonplace in her vast collection—things spiraled out of control.

The young dragon from the Nidhogg family paused, one hand holding a bread basket and the other clutching the gem in confusion. He seemed deep in thought, sizing things up, and remained waiting in place for quite some time.

What was he waiting for?

Naturally, he was waiting for a quest.

Little El understood perfectly—this was the most common chain of errand quests in the newbie village. Uncle Green Dragon had something to deliver to Auntie Red Dragon. Once she received it, she would “just happen” to have a quest for him to run to the next location, familiarizing him with the entire newbie village and introducing him to every dragon there.

Red Dragon was indeed planning to give her friend a bottle of her homemade coconut oil. It could be used to polish his dragon egg, making it shinier and more lustrous.

Just like the dragon egg Green Dragon Purle had been carefully tending to.

Red Dragon pointed toward the direction of her friend, one of the dragons the little one hadn’t yet delivered cake to. Receiving the task, the little one happily set off with a small basket slung over their shoulder. Inside were honey cakes that made dragons drool and a bottle of coconut oil tied with a ribbon.

Few dragons in the parenting squad actually needed help hatching eggs; most were simply single dragons joining the festivities.

This tradition had started who-knows-when, because many dragons were like this: they had absolutely no desire to spawn young themselves, yet that didn’t dampen their affection for these soft creatures one bit. They weren’t willing to endure the hardships of venturing into the Rift Forest, but they were more than happy to stay in Helheim and play with the young ones.

This year, however, things started early—the young dragons were still inside their eggs.

As the only youngster present who could run, jump, and flash a dazzling smile, Esther of Nidhogg was impossible for the dragons to ignore. And dragons were a double-standard species—loving them meant wanting them alive, hating them meant wishing them dead.

They had once found human cubs as tiresome as most greedy humans, but now, no matter how they looked at it, Nidhogg’s cub didn’t seem human at all. Even if he once was, he was now the offspring of an ancient dragon. And since he was their own cub, well, he was adorable.

The fiercely protective dragons nodded in unison.

Before long, Little El’s beginner quests were firmly on track.

From delivering items back and forth to being carried by dragon uncles and aunts into the thick of battle, the child occasionally wondered why these newbie village quests didn’t grant level-up experience. But that didn’t matter—because the rewards were generous!

Super generous rewards!

The moment the mighty dragon returned, the little one dashed straight toward him. Running so fast, he nearly tripped over his own feet, but the dragon caught him perfectly!

El was startled for a moment, but quickly forgot about it, eagerly sharing his day’s haul with the dragon.

One for big boss, one for Ai Ai.

If Nidhogg hadn’t grasped what was happening at first, he soon evolved into someone who couldn’t resist showing off to the entire world: Look, gems my son gave me! He didn’t even spare his Lich friend in the distant Pania Federation, waking him up at 3 AM despite the time difference just to ask, “Did your kid give you any gems?” Oh, sorry, I forgot—you don’t have kids.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

Author’s Note:

Nonsense Skit:

Young El: We’re a team—of course, we split mission rewards evenly.

Other Dragons: Dammit! What gives Nidhogg?! Stealing even a cub’s gem? Shameless!

*Beasts always roam alone: Quoted from the great Lu Xun~

PS: The little one still has some confusion about time travel. Once they get through the adjustment period, they’ll realize this isn’t a game. No need to worry.