Chapter 10: A Dragon
The hatchling sat at the edge of the cave, his gaze fixed on the horizon as his claws tapped idly against the stone. The word "Unnamed" still hung in his mind, glaring at him every time he checked his profile.
"A name…" he murmured, his voice low. "I need something strong. Powerful. Something that suits me."
He paused, his glowing eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "How about… Scaled Doom? No, too dramatic."
"Black Fang? No, sounds like a bad mercenary."
He clicked his claws together in frustration. "Dark Claw? No, that just sounds stupid."
The hatchling sighed, his tail curling slightly as he stared into the distance. Why is this so hard? It's just a name.
A faint aroma wafted through the air, catching his attention. His head tilted slightly as the scent grew stronger—gamey, earthy, and oddly enticing.
His stomach growled loudly, snapping him out of his thoughts. He turned toward the source of the smell, his glowing eyes narrowing.
The goblins were bustling near the center of the cave, their crude pots clinking together as they worked over a small fire. The young goblin spotted him and waved enthusiastically.
"Sir Lord! The soup is almost ready!"
The hatchling smirked faintly, rising to his feet. "Fine. I'll think about the name later."
He approached the makeshift cooking area, the goblins immediately stepping aside to give him space. A bowl of steaming soup was presented to him with great care, the young goblin practically bouncing with pride.
"Sir Lord, we made it just like you commanded! It's… uh… edible, I think."
The hatchling took the bowl, his claws curling around its edges. The aroma was strong, a mix of gamey meat and earthy herbs. His stomach growled again, louder this time.
Edible is all I need.
He took a tentative sip. The taste was… questionable, to say the least. But the warmth that spread through his body with each gulp was undeniable.
The system chimed.
[System Alert]
Congratulations! You have eaten your foe.
Title Unlocked: Merciless
Effect:
• Increases damage dealt to enemies by 10% when attacking a previously defeated foe.
• Slightly suppresses emotions during combat, enabling calculated and ruthless decisions.
The hatchling blinked, lowering the bowl as the notification hovered in front of him. A cold calm washed over him for a brief moment, as if something deep within had shifted. The lingering tension in his claws eased, replaced by an unsettling clarity.
Merciless, huh? he thought. That fits.
The young goblin's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Sir Lord, do you like it? Is it good?"
The hatchling glanced down at the half-empty bowl, then back at the goblin's eager face. "It's… effective," he said simply, taking another sip.
The goblins murmured among themselves, their respect for the hatchling growing with every passing moment. Not only had he defeated the Clawstalker, but now he was consuming it—claiming its strength for himself.
A faint, emotionless smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. They'll follow me even more now. Good.
The hatchling stretched out on a smooth patch of stone near the back of the cave, his body finally relaxing for the first time since his arrival in this world. The goblins had settled into their own routines, leaving him undisturbed.
Ten hours of rest… that's all I need. Then I'll figure out the next step, he thought, his glowing eyes flickering shut.
Sleep came quickly, pulling him into a deep, dreamless void.
"…zeth."
The crash came without warning, a deafening sound that echoed through the cave like a thunderclap. The hatchling's eyes snapped open, his body jolting upright as the vibrations reverberated through the stone.
"What was that?" he growled, his voice low and sharp.
The goblins were already stirring, their frightened murmurs filling the air. A few scrambled toward him, their wide eyes reflecting their fear.
"Sir Lord!" the young goblin cried, skidding to a halt beside him. "Something's happening outside!"
The hatchling's claws scraped against the ground as he stood, his gaze shifting toward the cave entrance. The faint glow of the outside world beckoned him, and the distant sound of more crashes reached his ears.
Another problem, he thought, his muscles tensing. This better not be what I think it is.
With a final glance at the goblins huddling behind him, he stepped toward the cave's mouth, his glowing eyes narrowing as he prepared for whatever awaited him outside.
The hatchling emerged from the cave, the cold night air biting at his scales. The goblins crowded behind him, their whispers filled with fear as they peered into the clearing.
A single figure stood near the edge of the forest, tall and imposing in the moonlight. The goblin scout was unlike the others the hatchling had seen—its lean, muscular frame was clad in patchwork leather armor, and a jagged blade hung at its side. Its yellow eyes glinted with malice as it stepped forward.
[System Alert]
Target Identified: Rusty Stone Scout
Level: 6
Status: Hostile
The hatchling's claws flexed instinctively, his glowing eyes narrowing.
"So," the scout began, its voice cold and mocking. "You're the little 'Reaver Lord' I've been hearing about."
The hatchling said nothing, his gaze steady as the scout sneered.
"I heard all about your supposed fight with a Clawstalker. A beast that dangerous would leave behind a body, wouldn't it? But I couldn't find anything. No blood, no carcass. Nothing."
The scout's grin widened, revealing sharp teeth. "So either you're lying, or you're hiding something."
The hatchling's tail flicked slightly, his voice calm but firm. "And what does it matter to you?"
The scout's expression darkened, its claws twitching toward its blade. "It matters because you're spreading falsehoods about some imaginary tribe. Reaver Tribe? Please."
The goblins behind the hatchling shuffled nervously, their whispers growing louder.
The scout's gaze shifted to them, its grin returning. "You're trying to build yourself up, aren't you? Make these pitiful creatures think you're something special. But you're not. And I'm here to prove it."
It stepped closer, its movements deliberate and menacing. "Fight me. Prove your lies. Or pay the price."
The hatchling tilted his head, his glowing eyes unflinching. "And if I refuse?"
The scout's grin turned feral. "Then I'll destroy this place. Kill every last one of these weaklings. Burn it to the ground. That's what happens to those who defy the Rusty Stone Tribe."
The goblins recoiled, their fear palpable as they huddled together. The young goblin clung to the hatchling's tail, its trembling voice barely a whisper. "Sir Lord…"
The hatchling exhaled slowly, his claws scraping lightly against the ground. His gaze locked onto the scout, his voice low and measured. "You want to fight me?"
The scout chuckled, unsheathing its blade. "Oh, I'll do more than fight. I'll make an example of you."
The hatchling took a deliberate step forward, his glowing eyes fixed on the scout. The goblins behind him held their breath, their collective fear thick in the air.
"Fine," the hatchling said, his voice calm but laced with menace. "A fight it is, then."
The scout smirked, gripping the hilt of its blade. "Good choice. At least you'll die with some dignity."
The hatchling's lips curled into a faint smirk of his own. "But let's be clear about one thing…"
The scout's grin faltered slightly as the hatchling's tone dropped, each word cutting through the silence like a blade.
"In the worst-case scenario, for you," the hatchling said, his voice steady and deliberate, "if I do so happen to kill you… the Rusty Stone Tribe will be wiped out of existence. I can assure you of that."
"And if I end up dying, the same would happen anyway."
The scout's confidence wavered, its grip tightening on the blade.
"Messing with a dragon…" The hatchling's smirk widened, his glowing eyes narrowing. "Yeah, you should have been knowing better than that. But alas," he paused, his tone turning cold, "you're just a goblin."
He let out a small chuckle, clicking his claws together as he shook his head. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Just a goblin."
The scout froze, the weight of the words sinking in. Its yellow eyes widened, its sneer replaced by a look of raw disbelief.
"D-dragon?"
"You… you're a dragon?"
The cave fell silent for a moment before the goblins behind the hatchling began murmuring. Their voices were a mix of shock and awe, echoing softly like ripples in water.
"A dragon?" one of the elders whispered, his trembling voice barely audible.
The young goblin practically exploded with excitement, its wide eyes sparkling. "I knew it from the start, hehe. Sir Lord is a dragon!" It bounced on its heels, its enthusiasm overflowing like an uncontained flood.
The hatchling tilted his head slightly, a slow, unsettling smile spreading across his face. His glowing eyes locked onto the scout, who remained frozen in place.
"What gave it away?" the hatchling asked, his tone cold and taunting.
He began to move, his steps deliberate and predatory. The sound of his claws clicking against the ground was the only noise as the scout took an involuntary step back.
"You… you can't be…" the scout stammered, shaking its head as though trying to dispel the thought. "You're not a dragon. No way. You're lying!"
The hatchling chuckled, a low and menacing sound that sent shivers down the spines of those watching.
"Not wrong," he said, his voice calm and almost conversational. "Technically, a hatchling for now…"
The scout flinched, its grip on its weapon tightening as the hatchling's smile grew wider.
"But I…" he stepped closer, his glowing eyes narrowing as his voice dropped to a chilling whisper, "…am a dragon."
The scout's composure crumbled, its trembling legs betraying its fear. The goblins behind the hatchling watched in stunned silence, the young goblin practically vibrating with excitement as the tension in the air grew thicker.
"And this dragon…" he said, his tone low and menacing, "…will do the honors of taking the life of this pathetic, idiotic little goblin scout, who has mistaken himself to be a dragon slayer."