As a stone giant, Dominic possessed no conventional concept of eating. He only supplemented his diet with appropriate geological substances when his magic was depleted or his body required repair—elements like mithril, rare metals, or high-grade magical crystals.

He even found it perplexing that humans required three meals a day, never missing a single one. How did these human creatures manage to survive on this perilous magical continent?

Much like how Earth humans might search “how often whales surface to breathe, and what happens when they sleep” out of sheer boredom late at night, this seemingly taciturn stone giant possessed a richly inquisitive mind. He had engaged in earnest and rigorous academic discussions on this very topic with the only human he’d come to know in recent years—Young Master Job.

Topics included, but were not limited to:

“One meal at seven in the morning, one at twelve noon, and one at six in the evening—meaning you must eat every five to six hours. But what about the time from six in the evening until seven in the morning? How can you go without eating for over ten hours?”

“Both eating and sleeping benefit the body. Why don’t you sleep three times a day?”

“If eating a monster’s thigh meat doesn’t actually give you an extra thigh, why bother eating it at all?”

In short, Dominic knew the answer to why the cub’s stomach growled.

But after speaking, he dared not relax. He cautiously observed the dragon before him, who had slain the viper without batting an eye, waiting for its response. Seeing the dragon nod thoughtfully in acknowledgment, he exhaled a sigh of relief as if escaping a catastrophe. He even felt a surge of gratitude, wishing he could thank Lady Luck’s entire family.

He had actually guessed correctly!

Dominic was unaware of the One-Eyed Viper’s earlier reckless provocation of the dragon. He’d only seen a field of scorched vipers and a dragon politely asking questions everywhere.

A simple equation formed in the stone giant’s mind: answer the question wrong or unsatisfactorily, and you’d meet the Grim Reaper.

Some people seem polite, but they’re actually twisted!

Some dragons are the same!

One problem solved, another problem arose: Who could cook?

When the golden eyes of the dragon Nidhogg, that ultimate predator, turned back toward him, the stone giant’s scalp tingled.

Fortunately, Young Master Job broke through the encirclement at that moment, rescuing his guard in a reversal of roles.

Two species, their instincts so overwhelmingly primal they’d evolved past the need to eat, now sat before the crackling campfire. Eyes fixed on the finicky humans, they used a milk pot fashioned from a mithril teapot to simmer porridge for another troublesome youngling.

“Have you two never known hunger in your lives?” Three and a half years of wilderness survival had transformed the pampered young master into a skilled cook, returning from the chaos.

Cooking for the little ones, Young Master Job even hygienically secured a net over his bushy beard. With the same meticulous care he’d learned brewing potions under Professor Kronberg, he slowly stirred the wooden spoon in the pot. Watching the oats gradually swell and burst open until the milk turned a beautiful custard color, he couldn’t resist muttering to himself.

From how Dominique never returned to find him, nearly getting struck by lightning into an apple-roasted chicken, to recounting his years of narrow escapes from sea monsters, goblin tribes, and petrified bird flocks.

Finally, he miraculously circled back to his original question: “Why isn’t anyone speaking? Look me in the eye and answer me! A child’s stomach growling—what else could it mean besides hunger? Could it be because they’re happy?”

The eldest son of the Ponce de Leon household was truly brave.

Dominique said this, but his body betrayed him as he shifted closer to his employer, his hand already creeping toward the hilt of his sword at his waist, assuming a subtle yet professional protective stance.

This Mr. Dragon seemed to be earnestly pondering whether it was more cost-effective to endure your chatter for the sake of the cub’s food, or to kill you and find a new cook.

And that latter option was truly tempting.

Your Excellency Job was indeed very noisy, like a colorful parrot. But no. The stone giant, ever the professional—or stubborn as a mule—thought to himself. He couldn’t betray the gold coins his employer had paid him.

The stone giant tried to save the situation, raising his hand to change the subject: “It could also be because he’s in a good mood. I have a witch friend who keeps a black cat, and it always acts like that.”

The dragon, utterly ignorant of human customs, was about to nod in agreement when the human cook roared: “You said it yourself—that’s a cat! Can cats be like humans? Like ancient dragons being like you? Dragons can even consume Chaos Energy to replenish magic! Try eating one of those, and I swear it’ll make you explode in seconds!”

The stone giant dared not utter another word.

As for the demon dragon…

He had already straightened his posture and was following Lord Job to learn the technique of simmering milk porridge.

“Must it be a mithril pot to cook the milk?”

“A tin pot, iron pot, or stone pot will do. I chose mithril simply because it’s the least likely to scorch milk. If you ever want milk porridge yourself, you can buy one. Or if you don’t mind, just take this one when it’s worn out.”

The duke’s son was remarkably generous.

The dragon lord of the Chaos Abyss stared blankly. Why would anyone lack mithril? “No, I mean—does it have to be cow’s milk?” Where would he find cows? Would beast milk work? What about milk fruit?

In any case, contrary to Dominic’s expectations, there was no bloodshed over a single disagreement. Instead, he found himself unexpectedly immersed in a cooking lesson.

Young Master Job shared his knowledge freely, even sprinkling his secret ingredient over the milk porridge at the end—roasted almond flakes. As the bubbles popped, piercing the thickening surface and milk skin, a rich, lingering aroma of creamy fat enveloped the honey-soaked wheat fragrance and almond sweetness, drifting in with lingering tenderness.

The child, still deep in slumber, imperceptibly wrinkled his rosy little nose. Though his mind hadn’t stirred, his stomach had awakened first—so hungry, so hungry.

The little one was clearly sleeping soundly, oblivious to the passing hours. Though his tummy had growled countless times, he was still slowly “booting up” at his own leisurely pace. First, he snuggled against the warm “blanket,” then yawned widely, and finally, with a tuft of white hair perched on his head, he followed the scent of food and automatically sat down at the “dining table.”

The little one was truly easy to care for. Holding the milk porridge, magically cooled to just the right temperature, he began slurping it down heartily. No one needed to feed him, and he showed not a hint of fussiness.

Before drinking the milk porridge, he even instinctively lifted his neck. Only after the dragon tried to tuck the handkerchief Job handed him into his collar did he finally start happily eating.

You could say he was a very hygienic little one.

And incredibly unreserved.

Job exclaimed in wonder, “Is this even possible?”

Nidhogg looked over in confusion. Why wouldn’t it be?

“This is our first day finding him, right? Not only does he not cry or fuss, he’s not afraid of us at all. And he eats so obediently?” Job had a nephew about the same age as this child, so mischievous that even the king had heard of him. Three personal maids chased after him to feed him, and they couldn’t even hold him down.

How could there be such a well-behaved child in this world? Job watched, his appetite growing.

But no.

There was serious business to attend to.

His Excellency Job, whose thoughts leaped wildly, clapped his hands. Facing the other two “people,” he declared solemnly, “Alright. Since the child can feed himself, let’s discuss something important. Like… what should we do with this child now?”

The stone giant froze. “What do you mean, ‘what should we do’?”

“He was clearly…” abandoned. Job struggled to utter the word that might hurt the child, his mouth hidden behind his thick beard. “What should we do? Any ideas? Never mind, I’ll share mine first. See if it works. I believe fate is predestined. Since we found him, we must take responsibility.”

Young Master Job always placed unwavering faith in the intangible—destiny, fate, such things held no sway over him. His imagination even ran wild, wondering if this wasn’t the very future he’d divined in the crystal ball?

Though three years ago, he never would’ve imagined his future involved a child.

But honestly, sending such an exceptionally beautiful child to an orphanage without a second thought? Not exactly the wisest move. If the other two weren’t keen, he’d gladly take him in. Money wasn’t an issue for him, as long as his parents…

Before he could finish the sentence, a palpable, thick aura of murderous intent—almost tangible—had already enveloped Job.

“My child!” This was the child given to him by the Dragon God! His!

The dragon narrowed its eyes, fixing Job with a deathly stare. Its golden beastly pupils glowed coldly, finally revealing the inhuman madness lurking beneath its polite facade.

It was in that instant that Dominic realized how laughable his attempts to protect his employer had been—if the dragon had chosen to act earlier.

He knew he couldn’t possibly stand against a legendary ancient dragon, but he’d always believed his sturdy physique could buy his employer a precious second to escape. Truly, just one second. Enough for his employer to tear open the escape magic scroll he’d paid a fortune for at auction. Crafted by a Mage-Archbishop himself, it could transport his employer back to his home in the capital of the Glorious Empire in the Far Realm in the blink of an eye.

—The terrifying pressure bearing down on Dominic screamed that his naive notions these past days had been nothing but a delusion. One second? In the blink of an eye, both his head and Young Master Job’s would likely be rolling across the solid earth of the Abyssal Depths.

At this critical moment, Dominic blurted out the words he would thank his lucky stars for for the rest of his life: “Yours, yours, it must be yours! This child’s eyes are so much like yours! But the child is watching…” He couldn’t let the child be traumatized.

The terrifying pressure instantly receded, and even the magical particles that had been violently dancing around the dragon vanished without a trace.

Nidhogg immediately turned his anxious gaze toward the child.

The child remained utterly oblivious to the commotion, still puffing out his soft little cheeks as he leisurely savored the last spoonful of milk oatmeal in his bowl. Young Master Job’s culinary skills were truly exceptional—his future likely lay in becoming a chef. The little one was thoroughly satisfied with this sweet, delicious treat, savoring every last bit. He was completely absorbed in the act of finishing the entire bowl.

This was the first time he’d ever eaten so much in one go. He even felt like he could have another bowl. He was so good!

Then, the little one sat quietly in place, waiting obediently for his medicine.

But after waiting a long time, the bitter pill still hadn’t arrived. The child tilted his head slightly in confusion, glancing at the dragon who was still staring intently at him, opening his mouth as if to signal.

Still nothing.

The stone giant, however, was quick to catch on. He’d already dragged the completely petrified young master Job back to the stove to boil more water. They thought the child hadn’t eaten enough and were preparing to make more. One of them stammered, “D-dragon?” while the other urged, “You’re just now getting it? What did you think that great being was? Move faster if you don’t want to die.”

The child understood not a word of this otherworldly language, but he finally remembered. A voice had once echoed in his mind, struggling to hold back sobs, speaking in the gentlest tone: “Don’t be afraid. The pain will be over soon. We won’t have to take medicine anymore, or get shots.”

“Really? Never again?”

“Yes! Aren’t you happy?”

Happy! The child nodded vigorously, his head bobbing like a joyful sunflower. He thought, Oh, right! How could he have forgotten? He wouldn’t have to take medicine anymore. He was so amazing!