Just minutes ago, the proud dragon dad was smashing mashed potatoes and adding cheese chunks while enthusiastically sharing his parenting success stories with his skeletal friend.

Though the Lich King never quite understood what there was to be proud of.

But since he currently needed the dragon’s help, he naturally couldn’t argue. He just patiently repeated his question: “How do you get a child to eat?”

Young Eliadeos, whether as the sole grandchild of the Duke of Ponce de Leon or the special, grievance-laden Holy Son of the Church of Light, never really enjoyed eating properly.

But before, the whole family would coax and plead with him. Now, his Lich teacher only said, “Eat it or not, it’s not my stomach growling.”

Then…

The Lich Master turned and humbly pleaded with his old friend, begging him to help out of respect for his old age. He was truly at his wits’ end. He’d assumed a child would eat once hungry enough, but not this Holy Son. If he refused to teach a certain spell, he wouldn’t eat—literally refusing to eat, preferring to starve himself to death rather than take a single bite. But Savvy couldn’t let the Holy Child starve to death—the Pope would hunt him down.

His dragon friend, now coating himself in breadcrumbs, tilted his head in genuine confusion. “Should I try persuading him?” Wouldn’t a child only throw a tantrum because something was too delicious, wanting more, and even offer to pet his head in exchange?

Lich: “… …“ Seriously, you dragon-born winners are so annoying, you know? How come you never have to deal with common kid issues like picky eating?!

”Probably because I’m better at taking care of the little one.”

And so, the ancient dragon who knew how to care for young ones found himself utterly overwhelmed at the dinner table. While fastening a bib adorned with little dragons around his son’s neck, he urgently imparted essential knowledge—at the very least, the child must know his father’s name was Nidhogg. That way, when venturing out, he could declare his lineage, deterring ordinary punks from causing trouble.

Lich Savvy: “?” Is that how parents’ names are used? I’m not well-versed, don’t try to fool me.

“And your name is Esther, shortened to Ell. You can call yourself ‘Ai Ai’ if you like, but when introducing yourself at school, you must say your name is El, understand?”

The cheese potato balls the little boy had anticipated all morning finally emerged from the fryer under magical command. Burying his face in the golden, crispy balls on his fork, he blew on them in small puffs as he asked, “Why?”

Holy Child Eli: “Because someone might use your real name to curse you.”

Nidhogg: “Because it saves you a lot of letters when you’re copying as punishment.”

The big and small spoke in unison, then fell into an awkward silence at each other’s answers.

“Oh, I see.” Only little El nodded vigorously, taking big bites of the now-cooled potato balls, savoring their delicious aroma.

This time, without the Lich King’s prompting, the Holy Son Eli, seated beside Esther at the table, speared a potato ball with his fork of his own accord.

The entire thought process likely went something like: Tasty? — He looks like he’s enjoying it — I’ll try some — It really is delicious!

Cheese is power!

Nidhogg shot his Lich friend a dismissive glance, offering a suggestion with his eyes—What to do when the child won’t eat? How about improving your cooking skills?

The Lich truly wanted to slay the dragon.

Alas, before he could act, Elder Byron arrived again. He opened a portal directly, silver light forming a rectangle in the air stroke by stroke, followed by a rhythmic knocking from the other side.

“You dragons sure are polite,” the skeleton remarked sarcastically.

“Come in!” The polite little fellow responded cheerfully.

Elder Byron was frantic. His first words upon approaching Nidhogg were “Thank goodness, you’re still alive!” But his next utterance instantly transformed into a dragon’s roar: “Then what the hell are you up to now?” 

Ever since the Elder Dragons departed the Chaos Abyss, the Time-Dragon renowned for his elegance had long since abandoned such decorum: “If you’re alive, then what was that Giant Dragon Crest over Helheim last night?”

The Giant Dragon Crest—a symbol that appears only when an Elder Dragon is born or falls. A translucent rune matrix, roughly three miles in diameter, would appear in the sky, like some grand proclamation ceremony.

According to the last sea-dweller who witnessed this ritual, she was still young when she first learned to surface for air. She saw the collective fall of the ancient dragons, the entire sky enveloped by a magnificent matrix, two moons shining together, heaven and earth merged as one. Clouds within a hundred-mile radius formed a vast counterclockwise vortex, then began pouring down like waterfalls, like whales plunging.

All across the Faires Continent, it is known that Nidhogg is the last surviving ancient dragon of this age. No more dragons shall be born.

“Do you know how many tribal leaders sent me condolences this morning alone, asking when the funeral rites will be held so they can clear their schedules to attend?”

Elder Byron of the dragon clan possessed a heart of steel, drawing his sword with composure even as enemy forces besieged the city. Yet he’d rather have been struck dead long ago than endure this perpetual terror. Yesterday, they had just weathered the apocalyptic threat of the dragon’s demise, and today they faced the seemingly comforting yet secretly gloating taunts of “Your strongest warrior is gone now.”

“You’d better give me an explanation! Otherwise…” 

Forget it. Can’t beat them? Guess I’ll just have to kill myself!

Nidhogg was surprisingly cooperative this time, replying with utmost honesty: “My son hatched last night. A dragon’s rite of passage is essential.”

Byron: “?”

Lich Savvy promptly handed over a memory crystal: “Observe.”

It contained last night’s entire sequence—precious footage he’d recorded for experimental documentation.

This explained why Esther remained unharmed, yet Lich Savvy still kept his holy son disciple here until today.

He’d been retained as a researcher.

After his son nearly met danger, Nidhogg’s sole thought beyond vengeance was that the engraving of the dragon egg could no longer be delayed.

In the past, he always felt his preparations were insufficient—this area lacking, that aspect weak. Even though the replicated dragon egg was already covered in engraved runes, he constantly sought stronger, more formidable creatures to replace it. But now, he feared delays would bring complications. His son’s strength could be enhanced later; he always had ways to make his young more powerful. The most urgent matter now was preventing him from being casually injured by a Deep Sea Giant Octopus again.

Savvy: “…Do you know how many mages train their entire lives, yet still can’t defeat a Deep Sea Giant Octopus together?”

Nidhogg merely gave him a strange look: “Why should I care about others?”

Good question.

Lich Savvy finally remembered—no matter how approachable this dragon appeared, at its core, it remained that same frustrating madman who had caused the Demon Lord Bymon to perish.

The Lich said no more, simply helping the other party place the sleeping youngster back into its eggshell.

The little one’s soft body curled up like a kitten, its fair, delicate face nestled within fluffy curls, long, upturned lashes gently trembled as it rose and fell with even breaths. Adorably so.

Upon witnessing this, Elder Byron couldn’t help but utter once more, “What on earth has Nidhogg ever done to deserve this?!”

Meanwhile, the little one had finished breakfast. After carefully wiping juice stains from the corners of its mouth, it hopped down from the table, holding a forkful of potato balls to feed its dad.

Byron: …Even if we take a step back, can this little one really not be mine?

Within the memory crystal, the dragon egg was surrounded by treasures Nidhogg had painstakingly gathered over recent days. Even Byron’s less-than-keen eye could make out the Crossblade of the Seven Heroes, the remnant crystal core of the Eternal Royal Court—the mightiest dynasty in elven history—and the fragment of an autobiography belonging to some unidentifiable, yet clearly Archmage-tier master.

Each had once been a peerless treasure of its age, yet most now lay discarded by the dragon as though they were worn-out shoes.

Because they were useless to his son.

The dragon egg was carefully placed within a shimmering magic circle.

This was the crucial step linking the dragon egg to its young—Savvy the Lich’s crowning achievement, and the primary reason even his own Lich kin now hunted him, the once-supreme Lich.

Nidhogg had never asked Savvy what purpose this array originally served, and that was precisely what the dragon most admired in his lich friend—his lack of curiosity.

What mattered was not what had been done in the past, but what served a purpose now.

The pragmatic dragon held his hand in the air. Beneath his broad palm, one profound and obscure rune after another materialized into a complex array. He felt his own heartbeat gradually synchronizing with the faint pulsations emanating from the young dragon within the egg.

Beat after beat, steady and strong.

The Lich beside him promptly offered the final silver flask, its flowing liquid shimmering with brilliant silver light. “This is all the mithril left—crafted by a Dwarven Weapon Grandmaster…”

“You can have all the useless junk I don’t need,” Nidhogg replied, expressionless. “Now, could you please shut up?”

The old fossil, having gotten what he wanted, promptly made a zipping-mouth gesture—perfectly timed.

The black dragon’s slender fingers tapped the lid lightly. The highly malleable mithril within, like a score following a conductor’s baton, began queuing up to infuse the dragon egg’s runic inscriptions. Neither too much nor too little, the magic flowed evenly, gradually emitting a unique silvery-white glow under the moonlight. Nidhogg constantly sensed his son’s heartbeat and pulse. remaining steady and reassuring throughout the infusion of power, like a soothing lullaby.

As the runes gathered magical energy, the dragon egg began to glow ever brighter. The symbols lit up one by one, like constellations being illuminated in the night sky.

Until a powerful surge of magic erupted from the point of contact. The dragon egg and every vessel within the entire chamber clanged and trembled, overflowing with an overwhelming force that threatened to sweep everyone off their feet. Yet the dragon and skeleton present remained utterly unmoved—Nidhogg’s black hair stirred slightly in the wind, but not even a brow lifted on his face.

The sunken eye sockets of the mad researcher, Lich Savvy, brimmed with excitement. He knew it! He knew it! His theory could succeed!

Though he couldn’t fathom why past attempts had failed, it didn’t matter. Success was all that counted now.

Without hesitation, the black dragon slashed its own finger, watching as golden blood trickled into the dragon egg’s engraved patterns. Every part of a dragon was precious; even the finest mithril couldn’t compare to the utility of their own blood. This was also the first time Lich Savvy had ever laid eyes on the legendary blood of the ancient dragons.

Mysterious, shimmering, like the blood of gods from myth.

Did Savvy want it? Of course he did. But would he take it? No. He understood the principle of moderation.

Amidst his excitement, the Lich did not forget his mission. He moved swiftly, retrieving five elemental crystals from a nearby prepared shelf. He placed them one by one in the prearranged spots around the dragon egg to maintain balance.

The pulsations within the dragon egg are now perfectly synchronized with Nidhogg’s heartbeat.

“By blood I swear, by moon I bear witness… Ancient dragon Nidhogg summons here the slumbering spirits of dragon heroes… Protect this child as you would your own, bless this child as you would your own, forever illuminate his path ahead…”

As the final syllable of ancient dragon magic echoed from Nidhogg’s maw, a crisp crack echoed. A burst of magical light surged from the fissure, piercing the heavens.

The dragon raised a finger toward the heavens, warping the sky itself. An atmospheric resonance—triggered only by a dragon’s roar—emerged. Clouds coalesced into a slow, colossal vortex. At its core, crystallization began. Struck simultaneously by multiple bolts of lightning, it wove the rune foundation tens of thousands of feet above the earth, eventually synthesizing into a constantly shifting geometric matrix.

At the core of the dragon emblem, the unique ancestral runes of the ancient dragons faintly emerged, while the long-extinct ancient dragon language swirled ceaselessly around its edges.

“What does it say?” Byron asked curiously.

Nidhogg shrugged. “How should I know? The ancient dragons were long gone when I was born.”

Byron couldn’t argue with a lunatic, so he turned his frustration on the Lich: “Why won’t you just show me the last part?”

The mad skeleton remained utterly absorbed in his own artistic creation from the night before.

Only the young Saint Son cut straight to the point: “How else could I demonstrate the perfection of his magical artistry if I didn’t show you all of it?”

Lich: “Exactly! Exactly!”

Meanwhile, little El was busy running back and forth, shoving a cookie into his dad’s mouth one moment, then a crispy snack the next. He had no experience with family life, but it should be similar to raising a pet, the child thought uncertainly—like making sure his dragon dad didn’t starve to death.

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

Author’s Note:

Nonsense Mini-Drama:

Dragon Dad: I knew it! My son loves me more than anyone in the world!

Little El: I’m raising a dragon! I’m raising a dragon! I’m raising a dragon! [Go!][Go!][Go!]