Time flies, and in the blink of an eye, more than a decade has passed.
Smolder, the name the little red dragon found in its ancestral memories, was all it knew about its identity, with no other information regarding its origins.
The origins of the dragon egg, after thorough investigation by the Stan family, led only to the conclusion that it was discovered by an exploration team on an uninhabited island overseas, yielding no useful information.
Normally, a dragonling would take hundreds of years to reach adulthood. However, under the old mage's special methods, Smolder's growth period was shortened to match that of humans, without any side effects, showcasing the old mage's dedication in this area.
Still, Smolder lacked the characteristic wings of a dragon.
These past years have not been kind to the Stan family. Ten years ago, the Duchess passed away from illness shortly after giving birth to their second child, aging Duke Bronn overnight. Another heavy blow came five years ago when the old mage, Mork, died in an accident, casting a shadow over the Duke's demeanor, his smile unseen since.
While the old mage was alive, people in the Duke's manor behaved themselves. But after his death, Smolder, wherever it went, faced whispers and stares. Being nearly as intelligent as humans, it could only endure in silence until meeting that one person.
That person was Blight Stan, the young master of the same age as Smolder. Upon seeing Smolder hiding in a corner, Blight ran over, cheering and hugging the little red dragon, touching the nearly dormant heart of the red dragon.
...
Today, like any other Monday, Smolder arrived early at Blight's door, its crimson scales dazzling under the morning light.
Now about the size of a horse, Smolder's majestic dragon presence was undeniable, even without wings. Its sharp white teeth, razor-like claws, and sturdy tail intimidated all who saw them.
Mounted on the red dragon's back was a saddle and several saddlebags, crisscrossed by straps—it was now Prince Blight's companion and mount. This role was entirely of the red dragon's volition, as it seemed, for the time being, the best option available.
After waiting an indeterminate time, Prince Blight finally emerged, patting the red dragon's neck and saying, "Sorry to keep you waiting," before climbing onto its back and heading out. There were no reins or bits; the red dragon's movements were entirely its own.
At fifteen, Prince Blight was already a fifth-year student at the Imperial Royal Academy, having reached the level of a Silver Swordsman in just seven years, marking him as one of the empire's top talents.
"I don't want to go to class today. How about we go outside the city?" Blight suggested as they walked.
The red dragon shook its head resignedly. While Blight was a genius in combat, his academic pursuits were lackluster, not from inability but from a lack of interest, preferring to daydream rather than pay attention in class. Previously, it was manageable, but now with Smolder's increased size causing a classroom door to break, the strict teachers had forbidden its entry, giving Blight carte blanche during lessons.
"Absolutely not. The Duke has said if you skip class again, he will arrange your marriage with the Monge family," a personal guard riding alongside them said sternly.
Feeling the tremor on its back, Smolder smirked slightly. If there was anything in the capital that could scare the talented Prince Stan, it was the Monge family's "dinosaur."
They soon arrived at the academy entrance. After watching Blight enter, Smolder and the two personal guards turned to leave. For the students, the next few days were "hard" boarding periods at the academy, while for their guards, it was a holiday. The academy was one of the empire's safest and most solemn places, where noble students' guards were not allowed to follow unless necessary, even princes being no exception.
However, the red dragon was an exception. With many in the academy intrigued by dragons, after attending classes with Blight for several months, even Smolder grew weary of the constant harassment and no longer wished to enter.
Once they reached a quieter area, the two guards dismounted and skillfully removed the saddle and other items from the red dragon. Smolder nodded in thanks, flicked its tail in farewell, and left on its own.
Smolder understood the common tongue of the continent but was not fond of speaking. Dragon chatterboxes were rare; most dragons felt a roar sufficed for most situations, and indeed it did. Though Smolder was born and raised in human society, integration seemed nearly impossible for a dragon, and Smolder felt lost in finding its path in life.
Gazing at the grand buildings before it, excitement flickered in the red dragon's eyes. This was one of the few places in the capital that a dragon could enjoy—the arena.
Gladiatorial combat was synonymous with violence and bloodshed, one of the few forms of entertainment in human society. The arena forbade the use of magic and extraordinary powers, with gladiators fighting to the death with their bodies and cold weapons to please bored and crazed spectators.
Besides gladiators, who were often criminal slaves or desperate warriors fighting for their freedom, the arena also featured wild beasts and monsters captured from various places. Victory over these formidable creatures was the gladiators' only path to freedom; otherwise, even the strongest would eventually fall and never rise again.
Aside from the enslaved gladiators and beasts, the arena also hosted free men, usually nobles seeking to dazzle the crowd with their prowess by defeating weakened beasts for applause, or strongmen hired by the arena for their skills.
Entering the arena, a portly middle-aged man approached Smolder, "Ah, noble Lord Smolder, it's been a while since your last visit. We'll arrange your fight immediately." His exaggerated flattery had no effect on the dragon.
Hearing the amplified magic broadcast outside, Smolder frowned, "You know I don't like being watched."
"But you do like gold coins!" the man's mustache twitched, "This time, we can offer you double the reward."
Smolder's eyes lit up, the surroundings seeming brighter. Almost all dragons had a weakness for shiny gold coins, and Smolder was no exception. Being watched was a small price to pay for glittering gold. (It wasn't the first time, after all.)
After a while, the man took a registry from someone behind him, put on a monocle to read it, then closed the book and looked up at Smolder seriously, saying:
"This time, your opponent is..."
"A human."