Miles stood in front of the cage he’d escaped earlier, staring at it with a mix of frustration and disbelief. "You’ve to be kidding me," he muttered, hands on his hips. "This isn’t a full circle. It’s a spiral of despair. The universe just hates me.”

  "Correction: the universe is indifferent. Your navigation skills, however, remain questionable."

  “Thanks, system,” Miles snapped. “Glad to see you’re still my number one fan.”

  "Your sarcasm is noted and remains an ineffective coping mechanism."

  “Oh, I don’t know, it’s keeping me from screaming,” Miles retorted. He rubbed his temples and sighed. “Okay, fine. Maybe I need to rethink my approach.” He reached into his metaphorical toolbox of decision-making strategies and settled on the tried-and-true method: dumb luck.

  “I’m rolling to check if there’s a lucky way out of this.”

  "Acknowledged. Rolling…"

  A moment passed, and Miles’s heart soared as the system delivered the news.

  "Result: maximum success. Status: absurdly lucky. Congratulations."

  "YES!" Miles pumped his fist in the air. “I knew it! Sometimes, all you need is a little faith.”

  The floor promptly gave way beneath him.

  With a strangled yelp, Miles plummeted into a hidden pit, landing with a thud that knocked the air out of his lungs. "Owwww! What the hell was that?!" he groaned, clutching his side.

  "Clarification: your roll uncovered a hidden passage. Gravity did the rest."

  Miles glared at the dirt walls around him. “Oh, great. Fantastic. My ‘luck’ just landed me in a dungeon pit! What’s next, a skeleton army?”

  "Unlikely. This area appears unguarded. Though your landing was… less than graceful."

  “Gee, thanks,” Miles muttered, sitting up and dusting himself off. "Note to self: don’t trust the system when it says ‘maximum success.’ Apparently, it’s code for ‘instant karma.’”

  "Noted. Shall I prepare a reminder for future rolls?"

  “No!” Miles snapped. Then his breath hitched as his eyes adjusted to the dim light in the pit. On the far side of the room, something enormous and glimmering in the faint glow caught his attention.

  His jaw dropped as he realized what he was looking at—a small dragon, chained to the wall. Its scales shimmered with an otherworldly light, a kaleidoscope of blues and silvers, but its wings drooped as though weighed down by exhaustion.

  Miles scrambled backward instinctively, his heartbeat skyrocketing. "Oh, no. No, no, no. Why? WHY?! This is the part where I die, isn’t it?”

  "Observation: the creature is restrained and currently unaware of your presence."

  "Yeah, well, it’s a system! Ever heard of those? Big, scaly, breathes fire, ?”

  "Correction: this specimen appears to be a juvenile. Its size and demeanor suggest immaturity."

  “Oh, great,” Miles said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “A baby dragon. That makes it SO much better. Now I only have to worry about getting roasted by, what, half-power fire breath?”

  "If you require clarification, dragons of this age often struggle with elemental attacks."

  “Well, hooray for me!” Miles snapped, cautiously inching closer to get a better look. “Okay, okay. I need to know if this thing is going to kill me the second it notices me. I’m rolling to see if it’s friendly.”

  "Acknowledged. Calculating likelihood…"

  A pause, and then:

  "Status: indeterminate. Observation: the dragon’s temperament cannot yet be assessed due to its young age and current condition."

  “Are you kidding me?” Miles hissed, gesturing wildly at the chained creature. “It’s ? What kind of answer is that? Just give me something—anything! Friendly, hostile, neutral—"

  "Recommendation: avoid antagonizing it until further data is available."

  “Yeah, no kidding!” Miles muttered, eyeing the dragon warily. Its eyes were closed, and its breathing was slow but steady. “Okay, fine. I won’t poke the murder lizard. But what am I supposed to do? Just… leave it here?”

  "Unclear. Your options remain limited."

  Miles sighed and sat cross-legged on the floor, glaring at the chains binding the dragon. “You know, system, you’ve been acting a lot chattier lately. Not that I’m complaining, but you used to be… I don’t know, less of a personality and more of a tool.”

  "Observation: user has exhibited signs of psychological distress. Increased interaction reduces likelihood of mental deterioration."

  He blinked. “Wait, are you saying you’re to keep me sane?”

  "Affirmative. Would you prefer a reversion to original settings? Note: this change would be permanent."

  Miles paused, his mind racing. A part of him missed the old, straightforward system. It never teased him, never argued, and never made him feel like it was judging his every move. But the thought of going back—of losing this odd, sarcastic companionship—left a pit in his stomach.

  “...No,” he finally said. “Keep things the way they are. You might drive me crazy sometimes, but you’re the only thing keeping me from losing it completely.”

  "Acknowledged. Observation: user’s choice appears suboptimal, yet commendable."

  “Gee, thanks,” Miles muttered, shaking his head. “Now, back to the dragon situation. What am I supposed to do about ?”

  The dragon stirred slightly, its tail twitching. Miles froze, holding his breath as its massive eyes fluttered open. The creature’s gaze locked onto him, and he felt his heart drop into his stomach.

  “Uh… hi there,” he said weakly, forcing a nervous smile.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  The dragon tilted its head, its glowing eyes narrowing as if assessing him.

  "Observation: the dragon remains non-hostile. Recommendation: maintain cautious neutrality."

  Miles barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Oh, sure. I’ll just act natural. No big deal. It’s only a DRAGON.”

  The dragon let out a low rumble, and Miles wasn’t sure if it was a growl or just the creature breathing. Either way, he didn’t plan on sticking around long enough to find out.

  “Okay, system,” he whispered. “New plan. Get me out of this pit I become barbecue.”

  "Acknowledged. Searching for solutions…"

  “Any time now,” Miles muttered, inching backward toward the wall.

  The dragon’s gaze followed him, its head lowering slightly.

  “Uh… good dragon. Nice dragon,” Miles stammered, plastering on his most awkward grin. “I’m just gonna… y’know… go.”

  The chains binding the dragon rattled as it shifted, and Miles’s heart leaped into his throat.

  “System!”

  "Solution identified: climb the wall. Probability of success: marginal."

  “Oh, ,” Miles muttered, eyeing the smooth walls. “Guess I’d better start practicing my rock-climbing skills.”

  The dragon let out another rumble, this one softer, almost inquisitive. Miles froze, torn between panic and curiosity.

  “...Is it just me, or does it seem less murder-y?” he whispered.

  "Observation: insufficient data to determine intent. Caution remains advised."

  “Yeah, thanks,” Miles muttered, inching closer to the wall. “Remind me to never trust a ‘lucky’ roll again.”

  "Acknowledged. Note: user’s survival remains statistically feasible."

  “Comforting,” Miles muttered, glancing over his shoulder at the dragon one last time before gripping the wall and starting his climb.

  The dragon watched him go, its glowing eyes unblinking. For a moment, Miles thought he saw something in its gaze—curiosity, maybe? Understanding?

  Or maybe it was just sizing him up for dinner.

  Either way, he wasn’t sticking around to find out.

  ______

  Miles crouched low, his knees popping like ancient wood under stress. The dragon—chained, massive, and snoring softly—loomed ahead. Its shimmering scales reflected the faint light trickling in from somewhere above, and its tail twitched occasionally, scattering pebbles like they were confetti.

  "Okay, easy does it," Miles muttered, barely above a whisper. "Step one: Don’t wake the dragon. Step two: Get out of here alive. Step three: Complain about this nightmare to literally anyone who will listen."

  "Observation: Plan noted. Probability of success: 3%. Recommendation: Prepare last words."

  “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Miles hissed. He moved carefully, placing each step as if the floor were made of brittle glass. Despite the aching silence, his boots seemed determined to audition for the lead role in .

  Halfway across the chamber, he reached a pile of chains and immediately caught his foot on one. He teetered for a moment, windmilling his arms wildly before crashing to the ground in a spectacular display of clumsiness. The sound echoed like a dinner bell.

  The dragon stirred.

  "Oh no," Miles whispered, going rigid.

  The massive creature yawned, revealing teeth that could slice through a castle wall. One luminous eye cracked open, glowing like molten gold.

  “Uh, hello?” Miles squeaked. “Nice dragon. Pretty dragon. I’m just passing through, no need to—”

  The dragon’s head shot up, the motion accompanied by a chain-rattling roar.

  "Warning: imminent incineration likely. Suggest rolling for survival."

  “Oh, come on!” Miles scrambled to his feet and threw a hand forward. “Roll! Roll like my life depends on it because it does!”

  There was a moment of silence before the system responded.

  "Result: Critical success. Status: Immediate danger neutralized."

  The dragon stopped mid-snarl, its massive nostrils flaring. It lowered its head slightly, sniffing the air around Miles.

  "Okay," Miles muttered nervously, keeping his hands up. "This is good. Neutralized. I'm alive, right?"

  "Correct. Status: Alive. Clarification: for now."

  The dragon blinked at him, tilting its head like a curious puppy—a massive, terrifying, scaly puppy. Then, without warning, it let out a chirp.

  "Wait...what?" Miles froze. “Did it just—chirp?”

  The dragon stepped closer, nuzzling its snout against Miles’s shoulder. The force sent him stumbling backward.

  "Analysis: Subject has imprinted on you. Role: Parental figure."

  "Parent?! What do you mean, 'parent'?" Miles whispered sharply, waving his arms as if that might undo the bond.

  "Explanation: Dragonlings establish a familial connection with those they deem trustworthy. This is irreversible."

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Miles groaned, clutching his forehead. “Irreversible? Like ‘tattoo of your ex’s name’ irreversible or ‘cosmic law’ irreversible?”

  "Clarification: cosmic law."

  The dragon chirped again, nudging Miles’s chest with a force that knocked the wind out of him.

  "Okay, buddy, personal space," Miles wheezed, gently pushing the creature’s snout away. "Look, I’m flattered—really—but I’m parent material. I don’t even have a stable income!”

  The dragon crooned softly, its enormous eyes wide and...adoring?

  Miles sighed. “Of course. I’ve gone from prisoner to accidental dragon dad. This is my life now. Great. Fantastic.”

  "Observation: your parenting instincts appear underdeveloped. Suggest improvement for long-term survival."

  “Not helping, system.”

  The dragon tilted its head again and gave a happy rumble that shook the walls. Miles could feel it vibrating in his bones.

  "Alright, let’s get this straight," he said, pointing a finger at the beast. "I’m not your dad. I’m...I don’t know, your cool older brother? Or your eccentric uncle? But your dad."

  The dragon nuzzled him again, nearly sending him sprawling.

  "Counterpoint: evidence strongly supports paternal bond."

  “I will uninstall you,” Miles snapped at the system.

  "Observation: empty threat."

  The dragon suddenly turned its head toward the chains binding it, giving them a sharp tug. The metal groaned, but it held firm.

  "Oh no, no, no," Miles said quickly, holding up his hands. "You’re not breaking those chains! You’ll bring the whole building down or, worse, wake up your jailers! Then we’re both toast—literal toast.”

  The dragon gave him a look that could only be described as pouty, and Miles felt his resolve waver.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered. “I’m not falling for the big sad dragon eyes.”

  The dragon’s tail thumped against the floor.

  "Analysis: resistance to emotional manipulation failing. Suggest alternative strategy."

  “Fine!” Miles threw his hands up. “We’ll deal with your chains. But you have to promise not to do anything stupid.”

  The dragon chirped, which Miles decided to take as a yes.

  “Alright,” he said, examining the massive bindings. “How do I even start with this? System, ideas?”

  "Recommendation: leverage dragon’s physical strength to weaken the chains. Note: this may cause significant noise."

  "Great. Subtlety’s overrated anyway," Miles muttered. “Okay, big guy—girl? Whatever. Pull on these chains gently. ”

  The dragon leaned back and gave the chains a half-hearted yank.

  “Good, good,” Miles encouraged. “See? Teamwork makes the dream work—”

  The chains snapped with a deafening , sending a shower of sparks flying.

  Miles’s heart sank. “Or, you know, wakes up everyone in a five-mile radius. That’s fine too. Totally fine.”

  The dragon chirped happily, stepping forward with its newfound freedom.

  “Great, now we just have to figure out how to get out of here before—”

  A loud bang echoed through the chamber, followed by muffled voices from above.

  "Observation: hostiles detected. Suggest immediate action."

  Miles turned to the dragon, panic setting in. "Alright, new plan: we run. You do know how to run, right?”

  The dragon gave him an eager look, crouching slightly like a cat about to pounce.

  “Okay, great,” Miles said, stepping toward the nearest exit. “Let’s—”

  The dragon bolted, shoving Miles forward in the process and nearly flattening him.

  “I said run, not trample!” he shouted, scrambling to keep up.

  The voices grew louder, accompanied by the sound of boots pounding against stone.

  "Why do I always end up in these situations?" Miles groaned, running alongside his new “child.”

  "Observation: poor life choices."

  “Thanks for that.”

  As they rounded a corner, the dragon suddenly stopped, its tail whipping out to block Miles’s path.

  “What now?” he asked, gasping for breath.

  The dragon sniffed the air, then let out a low growl.

  "That’s not ominous or anything," Miles muttered. “System, what’s it doing?”

  "Analysis: likely detecting threat ahead. Suggest preparation for potential conflict."

  "Conflict? With what? We just broke you out of jail, big guy! Who’s still mad about it?"

  The dragon snarled, and Miles could hear the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps approaching.

  "Great," he muttered, backing up slightly. "Just great."

  The dragon crouched low, its muscles coiling like springs.

  “Wait, what are you—”

  Before Miles could finish, the dragon launched itself forward, straight toward the approaching enemies.

  Miles stared after it, his jaw hanging open. “...I am ready for this parenting thing.”

  "Observation: ready or not, subject’s decisions are no longer optional."

  Miles sighed, clutching his head. “This is why I have trust issues.”