Byron convinced Nidhogg with an unassailable argument.

“You know how long that name is? Think about how much your son will suffer copying it as punishment in school!”

The dragon father, who’d been too brilliant in his youth to ever face real punishment, was clueless about this. Still, he grasped Byron’s meaning perfectly.

Both dragons turned their gaze in unison toward the cub beside them. The little one held a knight figurine in each hand, babbling away in an incomprehensible language. The child looked like it was made of pudding—springy, soft, and carrying a milky fragrance. Yet this caramel pudding’s behavior baffled the dragons. After arranging the toy knights in a circle on the milky-white carpet like a formation, the child began trying to make them move on their own.

As if that were their natural state.

Alas, the little knights neither moved nor made a sound. A hint of frustration flashed across the child’s chubby face, yet he refused to give up. Persistently, he examined each toy from top to bottom, fruitlessly searching for that imaginary switch.

It wasn’t until Daddy Dragon quietly wiggled his fingers and cast a short-duration transformation spell that the two armies finally began their battle.

Ai Ai, the little one’s wish was finally granted. He nodded contentedly. That’s more like it! This was the toy he remembered. Though he still hadn’t found their sound mechanism, it didn’t matter. At least they could move now!

The easily pleased little one beamed with delight, flashing the brightest smile imaginable at the two dragon kin who looked his way.

The youngling was utterly adorable, though…

…he seemed a bit dim-witted.

Byron hesitated to voice his thoughts aloud. But considering the human cub’s past “glorious achievements”—facing a green dragon alone, challenging a porcupine—and most importantly, his understanding of the cub’s age and lack of speech, he felt compelled to gently remind his friend: “You really should start thinking about his future.”

The black dragon nodded. He had indeed considered that. But this had nothing to do with the child’s intelligence. No matter what his cub was like, he would love him. He simply wanted to give his child the very best this world had to offer.

For instance: “Should we stick with the old tradition for the engraving ceremony?”

The Engraving Ceremony was a unique tradition among dragons—more accurately, a modern dragon practice modeled after ancient dragon rituals, a modified form of inheritance performed on dragon eggs. Under the witness of the Great Dragon God, precious magical materials were used to engrave layer upon layer of amplifying runes onto the dragon egg, granting the hatchling unparalleled power from the moment of birth.

Simply put, it’s like giving the child a cheat code.

This ritual has no strict requirements for materials—magical artifacts, monster cores, even magical plants—anything goes. The only stipulation is that each material must be more potent than the last, and ideally, freshly acquired, not prepared in advance.

Whether this unique parenting method truly makes the young dragon more powerful than it would have been otherwise remains uncertain, but the dragon clan is deeply superstitious about it.

Regardless of whether a young dragon ultimately hatches, they will exhaust every effort to build a future for their offspring.

This is precisely why dragon clutches are laid in Helheim’s breeding grounds rather than on the Dragon Island itself.

The Dragon Island is too isolated, hindering new dragon parents from frequently venturing to other regions of the continent for extensive gathering. Helheim, however, is different. It lies not far from the southern edge of the Rift Forest. At a dragon’s flight speed, it’s merely a matter of hours.

The Rift Forest is the largest and oldest forest on the continent of Farreus, spanning three realms and traversing numerous tribes. It serves as the primary stage for countless adventure tales. Here dwell countless high-level monsters, rare magical plants, and diverse dungeons, including the greatest underground labyrinth of the modern age, Daedalus. With luck, one might even stumble upon temple ruins or ancient divine tombs.

In short, it holds inexhaustible treasures that haunt the dreams of countless adventurers, drawing them forward in relentless waves.

For the dragonkin, the Rift Forest’s most significant feature lies in its connection to the Kabala Forest of the elven race.

Put simply, it’s just a forest. Most continental races, led by the dragons, call it the Rift Forest, while the elves name it the Kabala Forest after their Life Tree. In dragon terms, these strong-willed elves just have to be different—they’d die without standing out.

And anything that angers the elves? Dragons absolutely love doing it.

Each breeding season, dragon parents-to-be would swarm out en masse. Within this vast forest, home to elves and dark elves for generations, they would scour the land for nutrients to nurture their young.

It’s said Alina’s parents practically plundered half the treasure trove of the Elf King’s younger brother back then, carving nineteen layers of inscriptions onto their dragon egg to make their daughter so powerful.

Of course, it nearly sparked the greatest diplomatic crisis between dragons and elves.

“So we can’t rob them so blatantly anymore, but other than that, yes, the inscription ceremony follows the old rules.” Elder Byron nodded with dignified restraint, indicating that they were now civilized dragons actively building a law-abiding society.

As he spoke, he rose to pick up a knight figurine that had accidentally rolled out of bounds. After receiving an excessively sweet smile from the young dragon and enduring countless dagger-like glances from the stingy dragon father, he suddenly seemed to realize something and asked, ” Wait, why are you asking this? No, you didn’t deliberately stay in Helheim just to scheme this, did you?“

Nidhogg nodded with righteous conviction, his deep, handsome face radiating a maniacal aura that screamed, ”Well? Aren’t you fascinated by my genius idea, too?”

He had said he would give his son the very best.

This naturally included the full childhood a dragon deserved—like the engraving ritual.

“…How exactly do you plan to engrave him?” Byron was stunned, his speech unconsciously quickening. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you—engraving a living creature is entirely different from engraving an egg. People die.”

Unable to withstand the immense magical power, the creature would explode from the strain.

If amplifying the imprint were so simple, countless races would have copied it long ago. It wouldn’t remain a dragon-exclusive practice to this day. At the very least, those treacherous elves next door would have stolen the technique.

Nidhogg knew this well. Though he was a rather mad dragon, anyone who studied his performance during the Third Expedition would realize he never fought without certainty. He would never risk his own offspring. He had already prepared a dragon egg for his son.

“Pardon?” Byron doubted his own ears. “You said you prepared what for your son?”

“A dragon egg,” Nidhogg repeated, enunciating each syllable clearly. A magical replica crafted from the dragon egg he himself had hatched from, it possessed all the advantages of a true dragon egg: a hard outer shell, a soft interior, and contained immense magical power along with the nutrients necessary for the young dragon’s growth. Just as half-elves and dark elves—unable to bear children from the Tree of Life—would choose to hang their offspring upon its branches, Nidhogg intended for his son to reside within the dragon egg, engraved with amplifying runes, for a period of time.

For a moment, Byron genuinely wanted to peek inside Nidhogg’s mind—or ask the elders who raised him: Did you truly teach this ancient dragon what constitutes normal dragon thinking?

He had so much he wanted to say, yet found himself at a loss for words. In the end, all that remained was an exhausted declaration: “Enough talk! Let’s settle this with a fight! Whoever wins gets to decide!”

When the thunder dragon Alina arrived to visit, they were still in the midst of their argument. One was declaring, “Do you even have young ones? What do you know about raising them?” while the other retorted furiously, “Debate is one thing, but don’t attack my dragon form, I’m telling you! So what if I don’t have young ones? I may not have young ones, but at least I have a normal brain!”

Seriously, it was terrifyingly childish.

The little kid who opened the door, Ai Ai, actually acted more like an emotionally stable adult. Not only did he fetch Auntie Dragon a small stool, but he also generously shared a bowl of his colorful sunset slushie with her.

The little one enthusiastically entertained their guest, sharing ice cream while watching the evil dragon roar.

Don’t ask where this ice cream came from. As a highly responsible dragon dad, Nidhogg never forgot his son, even during arguments.

Rich milky aroma, icy cool texture—this summer essential for human nobility, taught by Job, had conquered the little one’s stomach and heart the very day Nidhogg mastered and actually made it.

The dragon dad even suspected his son behaved so well just to anticipate this little dessert after every meal.

Today’s treat came early because Nidhogg and Alina had planned to go out together. Worried the little one might be scared, he prepared it beforehand to soothe him.

The little one was indeed easy to placate—a bowl of slushie could keep him quiet for at least an hour.

Byron finally understood why Nidhogg had suddenly become so generous about accepting other dragons as neighbors: when he went out hunting, the neighbors could look after his child.

For the imprinting ritual, new dragon parents need to venture out frequently. This naturally raises a new question: Who watches the dragon eggs while they’re gone? Since not all dragons form families, communal childcare becomes the optimal solution.

Throughout the breeding season, they split into hunting and dragon-rearing teams, taking turns venturing out and cooperating.

This ensures both the safety of the dragon eggs and their healthy development.

Nidhogg may seem erratic in his actions, but he possesses a cunning philosophy of dragonhood, following his own distinct logic. Take this moment, for instance: to shield his son from bullying by the exclusionary dragon clan, he meticulously selected Purle, the green dragon among the males, as the most suitable guardian to care for the young.

In the weeks leading up to this, he had even cautiously avoided going out, secretly observing his neighbors’ families.

Though timid and prone to tears, Purle proved exceptionally skilled and meticulous in caring for the young. Whatever task entrusted to him—especially dragon eggs—was handled flawlessly, without the slightest mishap.

Most crucially, this green dragon’s friendliness knew no boundaries, extending equally to young dragons and non-dragon offspring alike.

Only after confirming the green dragon truly possessed innate nurturing talent did Nidhogg finally accept Alina’s invitation, agreeing to join the hunting party and lead the other dragon parents on their outing.

Though Nidhogg was a bit of a madman, it must be said that his combat prowess gave the dragons genuine peace of mind.

Ever since word spread that Nidhogg would join this year’s hunting party, the dragon parents in this batch grew immensely confident, convinced they would hatch even mightier offspring. Even some mother dragons who hadn’t planned to lay eggs this year began to get restless, eager to see if they could catch the last train to this once-in-a-millennium opportunity.

Elder Byron was so moved that he nearly wanted to present Nidhogg with a banner of gratitude for his outstanding contributions to the Dragon Island’s dragon population.

This was Nidhogg’s first group hunt, yet all the dragons instinctively began aligning their wills with his. Alina was giving him a brief overview:

“Where would you like to start? The Daedalus Great Labyrinth is the largest dungeon and one of the most thoroughly explored by adventurers. While magical items there are likely worthless, the monsters are high-level and highly nutritious. Plus, it’s relatively safe and well-documented.

“Or shall we venture deeper eastward? It would take considerably longer—possibly beyond a single day’s round trip. But word has it the Dark Elf royal family has been hunting in those lands recently. The wealth gap among Dark Elves is immense; most resources are concentrated in the hands of a few nobles, and the royal family, needless to say…

“Of course, there’s another option: the recently discovered temple ruins. Rumored to be a temple dedicated to the Water Goddess, a consort of the Nature Goddess, no one has successfully entered yet. It’s likely dangerous, but the magical items inside would definitely be worth the risk.”

From Alina’s dragon’s perspective, she definitely wanted to choose the third option. Any place connected to the gods had a high probability of yielding valuable items—high risk, high reward.

Nidhogg pondered for a moment, then asked only: “Which one would be more useful for enhancing the youngling’s language learning?”

Alina: “Huh?”