The dragon dad moved for only a second and quickly regained his composure. He felt none of the wreaths his son later gave away could compare to the one he had made. Only his wreath featured perfectly symmetrical spirals of black and gold flowers, delicate stems dotted with tiny sparkles—the proud creation of young El.

He must be the one his son adores most out of all his favorites!

Thus began the ancient dragon’s hunting life: rising at eleven, retiring at three, working just three days a week.

If a documentary were made about this year’s hunting squad, their narrative might go something like this: “Honestly, I’m rolling in dough right now. My lair’s practically overflowing with mithril ore, but even with all this wealth, I still only work three days a week. Sometimes I even put in overtime, stretching it to four days, four hours a day. Dragons as down-to-earth as us are a rare breed on Dragon Isle these days.”

Indeed, it’s quite rare.

The world knows dragons’ defining traits: powerful, greedy… and lazy.

Working at such an “intense” pace has even convinced the elves—who’d long harbored suspicions about the jelly rolls, a species notorious for raiding during breeding season—to abandon all doubts about the dragons.

They firmly believed the noisy neighbors on the neighboring island could never be this industrious.

Even if one dragon had mutated, it was impossible for the entire dragon clan to follow its madness. Hadn’t Silver Dragon Byron “coincidentally had business” again at this leader’s meeting? He could never attend more than twice during a week-long conference. And yet, among dragons, such a Byron could even be called a diligent elder.

But the impossible had happened, and it was unfolding almost every other day.

Because no dragon could defeat Nidhogg—not even collectively. Though lazy, the dragon clan still prioritized strength above all; the most formidable ruled.

The hunting squad initially grumbled about this “internal competition,” but…

Observing the ever-increasing engraved patterns on their own dragon eggs—layer upon layer—made it abundantly clear these were eggs nurtured exceptionally well by their parents, destined for greatness. What dragon wouldn’t feel proud? Aside from Alina’s parents, who were practically model workers, who else had witnessed such a magnificent sight on a dragon egg? Seeing tangible rewards for their hard work naturally gave them something to strive for.

While the hunting squad was “busy,” the childcare squad wasn’t idle either.

They had to ensure every egg got ample sunlight daily, received steady and continuous power from the magic ore vein’s vent, and even felt every loving heartbeat.

Green Dragon Purle firmly believed the latter increased the egg’s hatching probability.

Dragon populations dwindle not only due to the new generation’s low egg-laying initiative, but primarily because of the immense difficulty in hatching. Despite the hunting team’s tireless efforts, they knew full well their sacrifices might yield nothing. Among the many dragon eggs, many remained unhatched even after a decade.

This marked the eighth breeding season that Thunder Dragon Alina and Green Dragon Purle had endured together, watching over an egg whose hatching date remained unknown, clinging to an increasingly faint hope.

As the sole surviving youngling on the island, Esther’s daily routine consisted of eating and drinking to his heart’s content, happily playing under the watchful eyes of his dragon aunts and uncles. It must be said that amidst the endless loneliness, hearing the young dragon’s clear laughter truly brought comfort to the elder dragons, invisibly adding vitality and hope.

This was also one of the reasons young Esther was able to integrate smoothly into Helheim without being excluded.

Nidhogg had truly slept far too long in the Chaos Abyss—so long that he could scarcely fathom the dire straits the dragon clan’s reproductive crisis had reached.

Perhaps only the green dragon, eight years later, still clung to unwavering faith in his own dragon egg, as if the young dragon he and Alina conceived might hatch at any moment.

All the dragons had grown weary of Purle’s theories about conversing with dragon eggs, save for Esther, who would sit with golden eyes blinking, listening to the end.

Because he considered Uncle Green Dragon his good friend. Of course, every dragon in Helheim was his friend, but Uncle Green Dragon was an especially good friend.

That day, when the ancient dragon—who had left early and timed his return just before noon—grabbed the top-tier monster from the deepest layer of the Daedalus Great Labyrinth and led his team back, he saw his son sitting among rows of neatly sunbathing dragon eggs, once again whispering away with his green dragon friend.

The dragon narrowed his eyes.

This wasn’t the first time this had happened. It had been happening in cycles for the past two days. Nidhogg could even predict what would happen next: the youngling would spot him returning, run toward him joyfully, but when he asked what they’d been doing, both the child and the green dragon would simultaneously look away guiltily in different directions.

Whether he asked in a language his son could understand, or one the green dragon could comprehend.

With their languages still incomprehensible to each other, what could they possibly be whispering about?

The great dragon fixed a dangerous stare on the green dragon.

Then, nothing happened. Because Nidhogg’s son was hungry. The dragon lifted the youngling high above his head and cheerfully carried the little one back to prepare a meal.

Only after experiencing the chill of being targeted by a massive predator, drenched in cold sweat, could the green dragon grasp what he’d just endured—a brush with death, a narrow escape from the brink. He asked his girlfriend, utterly defeated: “Did I do something wrong?”

His girlfriend was busy engraving runes onto their dragon egg using the latest catch. With the recent bountiful harvest, there was barely any space left on her dragon egg to engrave. Alina had been quite troubled by this sweet dilemma lately.

Yet amidst her busyness, she still found time to answer her boyfriend. After all, Alina, a mighty dragoness who feared nothing—not even challenging an ancient dragon alone (though she’d lost miserably)—had one weakness: she couldn’t stand hearing other dragons cry. She hinted, “I think Lord Nidhogg was just curious about what you and El were talking about earlier.”

The green dragon stubbornly shook his head. “I can’t tell you. I promised El I’d keep it secret.”

“You and Nidhogg’s cub have a secret even Nidhogg himself can’t know?” Alina pursed her lips, prompting further. “You know how ancient dragons are—they never share.”

“Exactly,” the green dragon still didn’t grasp his girlfriend’s meaning, only emphasizing, “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you. I swear, when I can speak freely, I’ll tell you first. There will never be secrets between us. But this secret doesn’t involve you, and I made a promise to El.” A promise means keeping secrets!

“Not even a little bit?”

“Nope!”

The deep purple thunder dragon paused her actions, patted her boyfriend’s shoulder, and offered sincerely, “How about this? Have you picked a spot for your dragon tomb yet? If not, I can recommend a place with gorgeous scenery.”

Green Dragon: QAQ Seriously, is there really no way to salvage this?

Probably still possible. At least right now, Nidhogg had no time to think about the green dragon.

He was chatting remotely with the Lich Savvy.

Still dealing with the time difference, still maintaining that hellish schedule. The Lich had long since given up on getting annoyed. Well, ever since he first saw this crazy dragon on the battlefield, he’d never dared to get annoyed with him anyway.

Savvy would never forget how the dragon stood expressionless amidst a sea of corpses and blood, surrounded by an unnatural vacuum zone—strikingly clean. Slowly and patiently, he wiped a blood-dripping sword with something. The instant he lifted his head to meet the Lich King’s gaze, he remarked: “Ah, my apologies. Seems I borrowed your handkerchief without permission.”

Polite yet twisted.

Now, he was working for this twisted individual, assisting him in researching the feasibility of engraving runes onto replicas of ancient dragon eggs.

Truth be told, even without compensation, Savvy would likely have gladly accepted this task. As a research maniac, he was deeply fascinated by this subject. Beyond teaching the young Holy Son magic each day, he devoted nearly every waking moment to this research. He believed that success might grant him a glimpse into the secrets of the ancient dragons’ immense power—a truly magnificent achievement.

Savvy was utterly enamored with the dragon father and son who had sparked his inspiration.

This was evident in his willingness to follow Nidhogg’s lead, both now insisting that Esther was an ancient dragon.

“Dragon” El was currently perched on the other side of the walnut-colored wooden table, peering cautiously at Mr. Dragon.

First, just the edge of his white curls peeked out, then his ears pressed flat against his head, and finally, a pair of golden eyes appeared. The little boy didn’t understand magic communication, but he could interpret this gesture—Mr. Dragon was on a video call. He looked incredibly busy, which was perfect!

Convinced he wouldn’t be spotted, Esther cautiously began leaning forward. He braced himself with all his might, one hand on the tabletop, the other…

…reaching for the peach pie on the table.

It was his and Mr. Dragon’s dessert after today’s meal. El had already eaten two slices, while the rest had been “ruthlessly” reserved for the evening by his parent. As the little one lay in bed with eyes closed, pretending to nap, his mind was filled with thoughts of the peach pie: its golden, crisp caramelized crust, the plump, juicy, sweet filling, and the slightly chewy texture when bitten into.

How could there be such a delicious peach pie in this world?

How could any dragon in this world resist devouring it all in one go, choosing instead to save some for later?

Even though the little one’s belly was already round as a ball, he couldn’t resist the beckoning aroma of butter. Rolling off the bed, he began plotting a devastating surprise attack on the peach pie while Mr. Dragon wasn’t looking!

The two sneaky adults on either side of the magic message had, of course, already spotted this scene. The little one thought their quiet movements were impossible to hide, but the adults silently chose to stay quiet.

They just waited for the little one to walk right into their trap.

Until the little Holy Son suddenly spoke up: “Run! You’ve been spotted!”

The dark-haired, blue-eyed Saint Child, Iledos, appeared to be about the same age as El, yet his aura was strikingly different. How he had appeared, no one knew. How long he had been watching silently, no one knew either. All anyone knew was that when he, clad in the traditional white-gold robes of the Church of Light, finally spoke up to warn him, Esther immediately sounded the retreat. He scrambled back to his bed in three-step-at-a-time haste, feigning sleep as if everything that had just happened was merely Mr. Dragon’s hallucination.

Would Mr. Dragon notice?

Probably not, the child thought uncertainly, closing his eyes tightly in nervousness.

The Holy Child, with his beautiful blue eyes, had already been led away by the Lich beyond the range of the magic communication. Only intermittent sounds drifted back: “How did you wake up? … Your current condition… The immortal calamity Nidhogg is right across from you!”

But the small Holy Child only asked, “Who is that child?”

He really is beautiful.

When Lich Savvy returned, both Dragon and Bone tacitly avoided mentioning the earlier incident. Savvy didn’t ask why Nidhogg hadn’t fed the child (?), and Nidhogg didn’t inquire why the Holy Child of the Church of Light seemed to radiate the aura of dark magic.

Both simply resumed their engraving research as if nothing had happened.

Whether the Lich loved or not was painfully obvious. Amidst his research frenzy, he still found time to consider his friend’s young: “Should you start training your son in hide-and-seek skills now?”

The dragon toyed with the dark hair draped over his shoulder, seemingly troubled by something. After a long moment, he snapped back: “What?”

“I mean, your son will be in that egg for a very long time. You can’t communicate with him yet. Put yourself in his place—if someone suddenly locked you in a pitch-black space, how would you feel?”

Given Nidhogg’s insane, doom-obsessed nature, he’d probably drag the entire world into destruction with him.

The only difference between him and the former Demon King, Baimeng, was that Baimeng shouted his desire to destroy the world until the whole continent knew about it. Nidhogg, if he truly acted, would strike instantly, giving no one a chance to react.

Nidhogg stared at the skeletal figure across from him as if he were an idiot. “Are you serious?” Wasn’t there a possibility that he could slip his son into that place while he slept? Then, upon waking, his son would painlessly possess everything—language, strength, magic. He’d already given his son cheat codes. Why make him suffer?

Savvy: “…” Though a research genius, the lich occasionally experienced brain fog. He immediately hung up the magic call, likely too embarrassed to face the dragon anytime soon.

But Savvy had a point—what if the little one woke up scared? Nidhogg decided to consult the green dragon nursery teacher.

Purle, still stuck in the previous version: QAQ My life is over.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

Author’s Note:

———————-

*Honestly, I’m rolling in dough right now*: This is an old joke, not sure if anyone remembers it. It’s based on an interview where an Arab oil tycoon complained that his daughter didn’t work because the family was rich, unlike him, who worked three hours a day and sometimes even pulled overtime until 2 PM hhhhhhh