I lay on the rock, belly full, watching the murky water.
The pit was spent. Blood and sediment had turned it into a brown soup — visibility zero, prey scattered or smart enough to hide in the cracks. A few hatchlings were still pawing at the mud, but even they looked like they knew the banquet was over.
Good timing, really. I was already bored of watching translucent shrimp get torn apart by fifteen sets of dragon claws.
I shifted my attention back to the three Sense Vines.
Something was happening behind the thorn vine net.
A three-meter Kelpfang had drifted close, pressing its face against the vine barrier. But it wasn't studying the fish in the pit. Its eyes were locked on my Sense Vine's eyeball.
And behind it — a whole cluster of Kelpfang had gathered.
Dozens of them. Shadows stacking behind shadows, needle-teeth glinting in the dim green light of my vine eyes. They'd come from deeper in the underground river — I could tell by the way they moved, cutting against the current with the ease of things that had been hunting these waters since before we hatched.
These things were interested in my vines?
An idea formed.
Let me test it.
I extended one vine toward the net.
The instant it neared the thorn barrier, the small Kelpfang moved. Its tail whipped. Its jaws — full of needle teeth — tore through the vine in one bite and lunged for the eyeball.
Before it could connect, a larger Kelpfang *exploded* from beside it.
*Splash.*
A burst of water. The headless Kelpfang was launched into the air, spinning end over end.
A red hatchling on the bank stared at the spray with a dumbfounded expression. She instinctively rose to her claws at the sight of prey—
But the headless Kelpfang was dragged under before she could move.
The big Kelpfang had bitten through all three of my vine eyeballs in a single strike.
Three views gone. I opened my eyes.
My gaze settled on the blood-stained water at the channel mouth. My jaws parted slowly.
I'd just found a better bait than fish and shrimp.
But why did these Kelpfang love Sense Vine eyeballs so much?
What did the vines have that they wanted?
Life force.
Sense Vines concentrated all their life force into the eyeballs. That was exactly what the Kelpfang were sensing — a dense cluster of life energy, wrapped in a thin membrane, floating just beyond their reach.
To a Kelpfang, my vine eyeballs must have looked like the most delicious thing in this entire underground river.
My grin widened, revealing sharp white teeth.
A perfect plan formed in my mind. Like a project manager who'd just found the leverage point in a negotiation, I rose and walked to the water's edge.
"Vesperra."
Her head emerged from the water, a half-eaten fish dangling from her jaws.
"I found a better bait than fish. Call everyone out."
She swallowed the fish in one gulp and nodded once, then slipped under again.
One by one, the hatchlings climbed out. Soon all fifteen of us stood on the bank — including Vesperra and me.
Most of them hadn't eaten their fill. Their bellies were still flat, their movements sluggish. Their eyes were fixed on me with clear annoyance — I'd interrupted their meal.
Annoyed or not, none of them could do anything about it.
*"Mrah~"*
Munch pressed against my side. I felt the cool scales of her round belly. Full. She'd actually eaten well — which surprised me. Most of the hatchlings looked barely fed.
She pushed her snout toward me. I pushed it back with my claw.
I stepped forward, meeting the group's collective stare.
"Small fish and shrimp are done."
My voice carried across the bank.
"We're switching targets."
I paused, letting the words sink in.
"Kelpfang. That's our new prey."
At the word *Kelpfang*, every round head turned toward the underground river. A few hatchlings exchanged glances. They'd heard of Kelpfang — everyone had. The name carried weight. Kelpfang were the predators of the underground rivers, the kind of fish that could bite a hatchling in half if it caught one sleeping.
"You have a way to lure them into the pit?"
The question came from a green hatchling — one I didn't recognize at all. I didn't even know her name.
"My Sense Vines can lure them. You're green dragons — you should understand how the spell works. Sense Vines concentrate life force into the eyeballs. That's exactly what the Kelpfang underwater are looking for."
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Three green hatchlings in the group received questioning looks from their allies.
They were checking if I was telling the truth.
Each of the five dragon colors had their elemental specialty. Red — fire. Blue — lightning. Black — curses. White — ice. Green — life magic.
Two of the three green hatchlings nodded reluctantly.
The third — a green dragon I'd seen near Nyx — nodded even more reluctantly, under the gaze of her black-scaled companion.
She clearly didn't want to help me confirm anything. But the truth was the truth.
With the confirmation, every gaze returned to me.
"Can you summon enough vines to lure them?"
I glanced at the black hatchling who'd asked and nodded once.
"Yes. I can summon enough."
I *could.* But I wasn't doing this for free. This was a negotiation, and every good negotiator knew when to play their trump card.
My jaws split open. My green vertical pupils narrowed with undisguised greed.
Something stirred in my chest — something old and deep and distinctly *dragon.* The word *magic core* hadn't even left my mouth yet, and already my scales prickled with it. Possession. Accumulation. *More.*
"But — I have a condition."
Silence fell across the bank.
"The Kelpfang meat is your payment. Every hatchling who participates gets a share of the flesh."
A few tails flicked. That was fair.
"But every magic core belongs to me."
The silence shattered.
Every hatchling's pupils contracted into thin slits. Their gazes turned colder than the underground river itself.
Magic cores were the shortcut to increasing magical capacity. For a dragon whose bloodline depended on spellcasting, they were the single best way to grow stronger in the early stages. For the stat monsters — the reds, the blues — they were less critical, but still valuable.
I was asking for all of them. Every single one.
And the worst part was — I could feel that the same greed burning in me was burning in *them.* Fifteen pairs of slit pupils, each one calculating. Each one wondering if they should just take the cores by force.
Nobody moved. Not yet.
The second red hatchling — Ferra — turned her head toward Vesperra.
"Vesperra, do you agree to his terms?"
Every gaze shifted to the largest red dragon. None of them were blind — they could all see that Vesperra had been deliberately looking out for this green hatchling from the start.
Vesperra scanned the group. Her crimson gaze lingered on each hatchling in turn, then settled on Ferra.
She remembered every hatchling's name. Including this one.
"Ferra, I have no objection."
Her voice was calm. Absolute.
"If Sylvaros has the strength to back it up, then he can set the terms."
Five-colored dragons. Strength decided everything.
Vesperra's meaning was clear: if anyone disagreed, they could challenge me. Dragon-style.
Ferra's crimson pupils narrowed. She turned to face me.
She didn't believe this green male dragon could possibly be her match. In this entire clutch, the only one she feared was Vesperra.
"Then let's settle this the dragon way."
"Sure."
No reason to back down. I nodded once.
In the hatchling stage, red dragons were the undisputed stat monsters. But I wasn't exactly ordinary either.
I checked the stream of magic flowing through my body. Still plenty left from the spell modification. Enough for a fight.
My jaws parted in a grin.
The hatchlings spread out, clearing space for the fight. They formed a loose circle, eyes bright with anticipation. A challenge was entertainment — especially when neither combatant was likely to die.
Ferra was four meters long — only slightly smaller than Vesperra. Her claws showed the faint swell of muscle. Not as dramatic as Vesperra's, but there.
A miniature stat monster.
But I wasn't weak either.
I felt a flicker of excitement. This was, technically, my first real fight as a dragon. The first time someone was trying to hurt me on purpose.
"How do we start?"
"See this rock?"
I scooped up a stone and held it out for Ferra to see.
"Yeah, I see it."
"I'll throw it. When it hits the ground, we go."
"No problem. But—"
Ferra's jaws parted slightly. She'd already figured out what gave this green male dragon the confidence to face her.
His spellcasting talent was absurd.
But even so — in the hatchling stage, the most he could manage was low-tier magic. Vines and thorns. Nothing that could hurt a red dragon with her scales.
"Want me to step back further?"
"No need. Get ready."
"Hmph. Hope you don't regret this."
Looking at Ferra's brimming confidence, I thought: *good.* Confident and arrogant — that was how a proper red dragon should be.
"Ready."
My claw tossed the stone. It arced ten meters into the air, spinning slowly.
One, maybe two seconds.
The stone hit the ground with a sharp click.
Ferra *moved.*
Her powerful hind legs kicked off. The earth where she'd stood exploded into a small crater, dirt and pebbles spraying outward.
She was fast. Faster than I'd expected.
But I was ready.
Black thorned vines erupted from the dirt like a nest of snakes. In an instant, they wrapped around the charging crimson form.
Weaving, coiling, tightening — a sphere of pure thorn vine, complete.
I didn't even look at the trapped Ferra.
My green pupils tightened.
The double green spell circle before my snout split — one ring became two, then four. Overlapping. Expanding. The second ring merged into the first, transforming it from a simple vine summoning circle into something far more complex.
*"Hraaah—!"*
Crimson flame bled out of the thorn vine sphere. Ferra was burning the vines apart from inside.
Red-scaled claws tore through the vines with brute force, ripping open a gap wide enough for her head.
I didn't flinch.
A second ring of darker thorn vines burst from the ground — a solid wall, encircling Ferra completely. This time the vines were thicker, the thorns longer, coated in a faint green sheen that spoke of enhanced hardness.
Vines kept erupting from the earth, each one striking like a hunting snake, wrapping around Ferra's limbs, her tail, her neck.
Ferra's claws swept them to shreds. Again and again. But for every vine she destroyed, two more took its place.
Then she felt it — pain.
She looked down at her claws.
Black thorns were embedded in her crimson scales. Not deep. But *sharp.* Each thorn was drawing blood, tiny rivulets of red running down her legs.
*"RRAAAAH—!"*
The furious roar from inside the thorn wall didn't move me.
*Grow. Grow.*
Magic poured from my claws into the earth.
More vines. More thorns. Endless.
This was the advantage of a pure caster. I didn't need to be faster or stronger. I just needed to outlast them.
The wall tore open.
A crimson form burst through — Ferra, bleeding from a dozen wounds, charging straight at me through the pain. Her eyes were wild, her jaws split open in a snarl.
Every claw-step left a bloody print on the ground.
I had to admit: *impressive.*
She really was a stat monster. Even bleeding and exhausted, she was terrifying.
Three meters. That was all that separated us. But for Ferra, wrapped in thorns, losing blood with every step, those three meters might as well have been a canyon.
The vines kept coiling around her. Her charge slowed. Slowed.
Stopped.
Her vine-wrapped claw froze less than a centimeter from my snout.
Ferra was a thorn ball again. Only one claw and a pair of furious crimson pupils were visible.
She stared at me.
My claws never left the ground. Not once.
I didn't need to move. I didn't need to fight. I just needed to cast.
That was the difference between a pure caster and a stat monster.
The humiliation in her eyes was palpable.
She was a *red dragon.* How had she lost to a green hatchling?
How was the gap this wide?
Blood loss was catching up. Her vision was blurring. The green dragon in front of her was overlapping, fading—
Ferra collapsed.
I lowered my head and looked down at her.
It was over. I was the winner.
My head rose. My gaze swept the watching hatchlings.
*Anyone else?*
Every hatchling my eyes touched looked away. If Ferra couldn't win, none of them could.
Except two.
Munch and Vesperra didn't flinch.
I skipped over them. One because she wasn't afraid. The other because *I* wasn't afraid of her.
I finished my scan. No one met my gaze.
A pressure built in my throat — something that *had* to come out.
My jaws opened.
*"RAAAAH—!"*
The roar echoed off the cave walls, bouncing back and forth until it faded into silence.
The pressure in my throat released.
Satisfying.
With a thought, all the thorn vines began retracting into the earth — including the ones wrapped around Ferra.
Her bleeding form was revealed. Barely a scale left intact. Dozens of puncture wounds, though they'd stopped bleeding.
*Lost.*
Ferra tried to push herself up. Then saw my head lower toward her.
As the loser, she stopped.
As the loser, she had no voice.
Time passed. I just... sat there, looking down at her.
She didn't say anything. I didn't say anything.
I could feel her gaze — humiliation and fury tangled together.
*Is this green hatchling trying to humiliate me?*
*I'll get revenge. Someday. I swear it.*