Serathus awoke from his slumber, his consciousness gradually returning. Yet, his mind was not filled with clarity but rather a hazy void. He struggled to make sense of the world around him, but a flood of chaotic emotions overwhelmed him, leaving him disoriented.

  His body was still not fully accustomed to its new form, and his heart was consumed by endless confusion and unease. He couldn’t understand why he had become like this. Once a human, he was now trapped in the unfamiliar body of a dragon. The drastic transformation left him feeling profoundly alienated.

  Serathus looked down at his small claws, wanting to reach out and touch his face covered in hard, crimson scales. But he felt no warmth—only a deep sense of sorrow.

  He slowly opened his eyes and saw the reddish glow of the rocks on the cave walls. The scent of the volcano still lingered in the air. Glancing down at his small body, he couldn’t help but sigh softly. “So small,” he murmured. His tiny claws seemed insignificant in the vast cavern, almost cute, as if they posed no threat.

  But Serathus knew that despite his diminutive appearance, as a dragon, even these seemingly insignificant limbs held immense potential. Though his claws were not yet as sharp or powerful as those of an adult dragon, they were already formidable weapons against ordinary plants.

  The air around him was hot and heavy, the volcanic walls shimmering with a red glow, as if every rock was silently roaring. The flow of lava resembled the heartbeat of the dragon race, shaking the ground of the cave. The faint smell of sulfur filled the air, making it hard to breathe.

  He took a shallow breath, the heat scorching his lungs as if the entire world was ablaze. His claws scraped against the rocks, producing a faint scratching sound, as if even the air trembled at his presence.

  Serathus stretched his neck, squinting as he surveyed the volcanic cave. Suddenly, a low growl broke the silence. He touched his stomach and realized he was hungry. Though he had grown accustomed to his new body, his appetite seemed stronger than ever. Now, standing only three meters tall, he was a mere speck compared to the towering Dragon Mother, a fully grown red dragon who stood at least forty meters tall.

  He paused, glancing toward the cave entrance, formulating a plan. The Dragon Mother would likely go hunting and bring back prey. If he waited for her return, he could enjoy a hearty meal. With this thought, Serathus decided to be patient. After all, the Dragon Mother’s strength far surpassed his own, and she could easily capture prey and bring it back.

  However, as time passed, Serathus’s stomach growled louder, and his patience began to waver. If the Dragon Mother didn’t return, he would have to find food himself. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. “Eating dirt wouldn’t be so bad,” he muttered. Despite the dragon race’s immense power, he was still just a newborn, incapable of hunting.

  Just then, Serathus heard movement outside—a faint rustling.

  He slowly opened his eyes and saw that his siblings, Agnas and Kartilia, were also stirring awake. Three days of slumber had allowed their bodies to recover slightly, though their strength was still far from matching that of an adult dragon. Yet, it seemed each of them had gained a faint boost in power from digesting their eggshells.

  He looked at Kartilia, who was curled up beside a rock, her tail occasionally tapping the ground as if waiting for something. Agnas, on the other hand, was staring intently at the Dragon Mother, his eyes filled with longing. For the newly hatched dragons, hunger was the most immediate challenge.

  The Dragon Mother remained perched on her golden hoard, seemingly oblivious to their presence. Her massive body coiled around the glittering pile of metals and gems, exuding a calm yet unyielding authority. Her eyes were closed, as if lost in deep contemplation.

  Kartilia and Agnas kept glancing at the Dragon Mother, their hunger growing more urgent with each passing moment. Despite their desperation, they dared not make a sound. The Dragon Mother’smajesty and power were such that even the newborn dragons hesitated to disturb her.

  Time ticked by, and the Dragon Mother showed no sign of moving. Finally, Agnas couldn’t hold back any longer. He whispered to Kartilia, “Should we ask Mother if she could prepare some food for us?”

  Kartilia frowned slightly, her eyes flashing with displeasure. Her gaze was sharp and confident, as if everything was under her control, but the unease in her tightly coiled tail betrayed her. She knew that as the future Red Dragon Queen of Calamity, she could not stoop to begging the Dragon Mother. Yet, her hunger was almost unbearable. She glanced at her siblings, a sense of resentment rising within her. But in the end, she forced a pleading smile. “I, the future Red Dragon Queen of Calamity, am destined for greatness. But for now, perhaps we should try…”

  Though her words were bold, Serathus could see the fear and anxiety in her eyes. She, too, was starving. After all, they had just digested their eggshells, and their bodies were still growing.

  Serathus sighed. He didn’t want to appear weak, but they needed food to survive. “Kartilia, you’re right. We are red dragons, and we will grow strong. But if we don’t call out now, we might starve.” He turned to Agnas. “Don’t you think so, Agnas?”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  Agnas nodded, a glimmer of determination in his eyes. “Yes, we should call out together. Even the Dragon Mother might show us some mercy.”

  And so, the three young red dragons stood together. Though each had a distinct personality and demeanor, their shared goal united them tightly.

  Serathus took a deep breath and led Kartilia and Agnas toward the golden hoard. They called out in unison, “Great and noble Dragon Mother, Magnus Ingrathus Fenglous Fentian! Your children are starving. Please grant us food!”

  Their voices, thoughyoung, were filled with reverence and hope. The calls echoed through the cavern, carrying a sense of urgency that reverberated off the rocky walls.

  The first time, the Dragon Mother did not respond.

  The second time, she remained motionless.

  But on the third call, Serathus felt a chilling aura rise from the Dragon Mother. His heart raced as he fixed his gaze on her massive form. Finally, those oppressive dragon eyes slowly opened, locking onto them.

  The Dragon Mother’s gaze was cold and indifferent, as if piercing through their very souls. In that moment, Serathus felt an indescribable pressure envelop his entire being. There was no anger in her eyes—only a detached observation.

  She slowly raised her head, her expression devoid of warmth. Serathus’s heart tightened, and he lowered his head, realizing that their lives hung on the Dragon Mother’s whim.

  The Dragon Mother stood at the center of the nest, her gaze icy andmajesty, as if countless years of wisdom and power were condensed within thosedeep eyes. “Foolish children, you owe your survival to my greatness,” she said, her voice low and cold, carrying an undeniable authority.

  Her words struck like thunder across a dark sky, and the air grew heavy, as if even the light had dimmed under her presence. Serathus felt a tightness in his chest, the Dragon Mother’s power making him feel utterly submissive. Though he had become a red dragon, he was still in awe of her strength.

  After speaking, the Dragon Mother turned her back to the nest, spread her mighty wings, and prepared to fly out in search of prey. Her wings sliced through the air with a roar, and she swiftly disappeared into the darkness beyond the cave entrance.

  The silence that followed her departure left Serathus with a strange emptiness. As a newborn, everything in this new world felt foreign and unsettling. The sense of disorientation gripped his heart. Though he had been reborn as a dragon, everything still felt so unfamiliar, as if he were trapped in a completely different world.

  The wait grew longer, and Serathus’s stomach felt like a bottomless pit. The passage of time only heightened his anxiety. Every slight sound made him tense, and he dared not stray too far from his siblings, fearing he might miss any opportunity. The Dragon Mother’smajesty kept him from acting rashly, but his patience was wearing thin. He suddenly stood up, almost instinctively lying on the stone floor to conserve energy, but a thought crept into his mind—if the Dragon Mother didn’t return, he might really have to eat dirt.

  Then, the air outside grew intensely hot, and a powerful fiery presence surged into the nest. Serathus looked up to see the Dragon Mother returning, carrying a flaming demon ox on her back. The ox was massive, its body engulfed in raging flames, emitting a pungent, burnt smell. The air itself seemed to grow hotter from its presence.

  The Dragon Mother hurled the ox to the ground, her eyes cold. “You should be grateful for my greatness,” she said before turning away.

  At the sight of the prey, the three young dragons wasted no time. They pounced on the ox, blood and flesh flying in all directions. Bones crunched, and the air was thick with the metallic scent of blood. Serathus’s stomach growled impatiently, the primal instincts of a red dragon overriding his hesitation. As he bit into the meat, the taste of blood filled his mouth, making him nauseous. But his hunger was too strong to resist. Before him lay raw meat—something he had never eaten before.

  He pursed his lips, forcing himself to ignore the discomfort, and took a large bite. The flesh of the flaming demon ox was slippery and tough. As he chewed, blood gushed into his mouth, the metallic taste overwhelming. He swallowed the slippery chunks of meat, his hunger temporarily sated, but the raw, bloody flavor left him feeling sick.

  “Is eating meat really so wrong?” he wondered, though he had never personally killed an animal before. He looked down at the blood and gore on his claws, a sense of dread washing over him. He had never imagined he would become such a creature, capable of suchBarbaric acts.

  Yet, his hunger was stronger than any moral qualms. The needs of his body overrode all reason. He continued to devour the meat until his stomach began to swell, the temporary satisfaction bringing a fleeting sense of peace. Though he had only eaten a third of the flaming demon ox, it was all he could manage.

  He stared at the bloodstains on his claws, the crimson marks a reminder of what he had just done. The nausea grew stronger after the initial rush of hunger had passed, but as his stomach finally felt full, he muttered to himself, “Is this the power of the dragon race?”

  Just then, a cold, mechanical voice echoed in his ears: *“Ding! Host behavior assessed: Karmic Sin +1. Continue to explore the consequences of your actions?”*

  Serathus froze, his gaze growing heavier. A flood of questions filled his mind: “Karmic Sin? Did I do something wrong?”

  “Karmic Sin?” Serathus instinctively furrowed his brow. How did this system determine “karmic sin”? Did eating an ox really increase his sin value? He suddenly felt incredibly small, even foolish. The mechanical nature of the prompt left him deeply confused. He couldn’t understand—was eating raw meat considered a sin in this world?

  He looked down at the blood on his claws, the stains a reminder that the rules of the dragon race were vastly different from those of the human world. A heavy feeling ofdepression weighed on his heart, and he couldn’t shake the sense of guilt.

  However, the heaviness in his stomach left little room for further thought. His body began to feel sluggish, and his eyelids grew heavy. Sleep was creeping up on him. He didn’t want to fall asleep too quickly, knowing that resting too soon after eating wasn’t good for his body. Struggling against the drowsiness, he forced himself to stand and walked toward the cave entrance, gazing out at the distant blue sky.

  Sunlight streamed through the opening, casting golden rays into the cave, stirring his curiosity about the outside world. The world beyond seemed vast and boundless, while he was just a newborn dragon, knowing nothing and having nothing.

  He took a deep breath and leaned back against the volcanic rock, trying to stay awake. But his eyelids grew heavier, his breathing slowed, and finally, he succumbed to the exhaustion, closing his eyes.

  Dreams began to blur his consciousness, but as he drifted off, his heart was filled with unease and doubt—could he adapt to this new world? Could he survive in this unknown land?