“Hm. So the Fire and Lightning factions are at each other’s throats again.”
It had been thirty years since the Queen’s death.
Thirty years of burned forests and shattered mountains. The continent had not known peace since her fall.
Every faction Lord desired the throne, each believing themselves worthy of it.
Yet none possessed what the Queen once wielded—the crushing, absolute might to silence every Head with a single glance.
And so the continent burned for a position none were worthy of.
All of this would have ended if even one dragon had reached the Realm of Lord.
But alas, across the entirety of recorded history of this continent, only two beings had ever ascended to that height:
The Dragon Queen.
And the anomaly—the Troll King.
That alone spoke of the impossibility of it.
“Master! Look what I found!”
As I indulged in my thoughts, an excited voice echoed through my cavern.
I shifted my gaze toward the entrance.
Strata.
Once a dull, instinct-driven snake I had picked up on a whim. Now intelligent. Expressive. Far too expressive. He coiled proudly as he dragged something large behind him, scales scraping against sand.
“I haven’t seen anything like this before!” he said excitedly as he turned his head towards what he was dragging.
Behind him lay the half-buried body of a creature, sand still clinging to its hide.
A bull’s head.
Two arms. Two legs.
A Minotaur.
This is a surprise.
“Where did you find it?” I asked, mildly intrigued.
“A few miles from here. It was unconscious. The desert was almost done eating it.”
So a castaway or a stray.
I conjured a sphere of water above the creature and let it drop.
“GRAAAH—!”
The Minotaur jolted upright with a roar—then froze.
The moment its eyes met mine, its entire body began to tremble. It scrambled forward and prostrated itself before me, forehead striking the sand.
It's been a while since I saw this expression.
Name: ???
Species: Minotaur
Attribute: Fire
Age: 12
Mana: 0
Aura: 2
Prana: 0
The Inspect spell showed something interesting.
Twelve years old—with two points of Aura.
In all my long years, I had never seen anyone awaken aura that early.
I kept silence until his breathing steadied.
“Calmed down?” I asked.
I could hardly blame him. Waking to the sight of a colossal dragon—beings infamous for their savagery—would shake anyone. Even I flee from my kind on sight.
“Y-yes…”
At least he could speak.
“Stand.”
He obeyed instantly, though his legs trembled.
Up close, he looked worse.
Malnourished. Wounds across his body. One horn chipped.
His aura flickered faintly around him—thin and unstable, like the last ember of a dying flame.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
Minotaurs are herd-bound creatures. They rarely abandon their kin. And their kin do not abandon their young without reasons.
“I… I came to find the great blue dragon of the west.”
The blue dragon of the west?
Last I checked, I was the only dragon within this resource-starved wasteland.
Strata let out a low, pleased hiss.
“For offering yourself as food?” he added, voice playful.
The Minotaur flinched.
“…No.”
Silence filled the cavern.
A Minotaur reduced to bone and stubborn will. No mana. Barely any aura. Half-swallowed by the desert.
“Why are you looking for me?” I asked, lowering my massive head until a single eye loomed before him.
“I heard a rumour…” he began, then faltered.
“Rumour?”
He swallowed.
“…About a dragon who grants strength to those who seek it.”
Me granting strength? The irony of that. Well in their eyes all dragons might be creatures of absolute strength.
“Hm.”
A slow smile curled across my maw.
“And why,” I asked softly, “should I grant you that?”
“…”
“Did you think you were the only one who came to me seeking power?” I lied smoothly.
So far, no creature apart from the little bull has come to me seeking strength.
His shoulders trembled.
“I—I don’t… have anything,” he stammered, fighting to keep his tears from falling.
For a brief moment, guilt stirred within me.
Teasing a child on the brink of collapse was hardly dignified.
“Where did you hear of me?” I asked instead, breaking the awkward silence.
“I… rumors,” he whispered. “About a snake… serving a dragon.”
I slowly turned my head toward the most likely culprit of the rumour.
Strata has lifted himself as high as possible, chest puffed out in pride.
Of course, it's him.
Lately, he had been wandering farther from the oasis.
My gaze drilled onto him.
He froze mid-preen.
“…Master?”
“Explain.”
“They are accurate stories,” he replied quickly. “I merely described your magnificence.”
I ignored him.
“So,” I said, turning back to the boy, “you heard rumors of a dragon… and decided to seek it out.”
“Yes.”
“You are aware that to us dragons, Minotaurs are no different from livestock.”
“…Yes.”
“And yet you came.”
“…Yes.”
Silence lingered between us.
Hmm.
It was not rare for the desperate to gamble their lives against fate.
But they rarely survived long.
“You have no mana,” I said slowly. “But you have awakened aura.”
Aura required the body to be pushed beyond its limits. Lesser beings train for years to ignite that spark.
And yet here lay an anomaly.
Aura awakened… in a body barely trained and half a step from the grave.
Either he is talented.
Or he has exhausted all his luck for it.
Should I train him?
The child had potential. Crude. Untested. But undeniable.
And given enough decades… he might even surpass me.
And that—
That is what worries me.
Perhaps one day, he would point his blade at my throat.
I could send him away and spare myself the future trouble.
In his current state, however, the desert would finish what hunger had begun.
He would not make it a mile.
“…You may stay.”
The words left my mouth before I fully registered them.
In the end, guilt outweighed pragmatism.
“Th-thank you… Thank you!” he stammered, bowing over and over until his forehead nearly struck the stone.
“It is not a sin to be born weak,” I said evenly. “But to remain weak by choice, in this world, is.”
He nodded fervently.
“Strata.”
“Yes, Master?”
“Since you possess ample time to squander on spreading rumors, you will be responsible for restoring him to health.”
Strata’s eyes gleamed.
“Yes, Master. I will make him fat, juicy, and—”
I stared at him.
“—strong,” he corrected immediately. “Very strong. Exceptionally strong.”
“And you,” I said, turning back to the Minotaur. “What is your name?”
“Tranx… of the Ashfox Tribe.”
“Tranx of Ashfox,” I repeated. “The moment you fail to meet my expectations, you will be cast out. Remember that.”
“Y-Yes. I will rise to your expectations!”
We shall see.
Perhaps this would serve me as well.
An insurance policy.
Or a future threat.
Either way…
The desert had delivered me something far more valuable than solitude.
It had delivered entertainment.
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