After the Battle

Caesar paid special attention to the fatal wound on the Terror Wolf leader. The claw wound through its neck had turned the entire area into a mangled mess of flesh and blood. It looked as though it had been sliced by a blade, nearly severing its head completely.

Such a horrific wound was unquestionably fatal. No wonder the Terror Wolf leader had died on the spot. Even a dragon, with its formidable vitality, would likely struggle to survive an injury like that.

The feast began.

Though the herbivores had long since fled in terror from the chaotic brawl, the badly battered wolf pack had left behind plenty of corpses. The hatchlings, already dizzy with hunger, naturally welcomed every scrap and began devouring them in great mouthfuls.

Unlike Caesar, who ate anything raw without complaint, Garon and Blakeshia seemed far more "refined." They always used acid to corrode their food before swallowing the raw meat.

Above them, blood eagles and vultures formed a dark mass in the sky, crying out with harsh, unpleasant screeches even more piercing than crows. They circled above the lake, staring greedily at the Terror Wolf corpses.

"Roar, roar—"

Clutching a half-eaten meal, Blakeshia let out two low, threatening growls at the sky. Even though she could no longer eat another bite, she still had to protect the food. During this dry season, when natural resources were scarce, every scrap of meat was precious.

So she worked with Garon, dragging Terror Wolf corpses into the pool and burying them in the filthy mud. Black dragons ate carrion, and these wolf corpses meant they would not need to hunt for quite some time.

"Mm, Ortolenso, we really owe you this time."

Though Caesar had corrected him before, Garon could not change the habit so quickly. With meat still in his mouth, he followed behind Caesar and offered a muffled apology.

"Mm."

Caesar had a larger appetite than the others, so he was still working on the Terror Wolf before him. He gave a vague reply through a mouthful of meat.

Dragons had tremendous pride. Even when they knew they were wrong, they rarely admitted it. By dragon standards, Garon's muffled apology was already exceedingly sincere. He had probably come to deeply understand his mistake.

Caesar possessed an adult soul that did not match his appearance. Naturally, he had no childish interest in rubbing salt into a wound. He did not press Garon any further and simply let the matter pass with a casual response.

Yet the sight irritated Blakeshia. She had always enjoyed bullying and teasing Garon, but seeing him sincerely submit to Caesar and apologize in that muffled voice made her feel as if something had been taken from her. Jealousy gnawed at her.

Still, she also recognized her own earlier mistake and could find no reason to lash out. She could only vent her resentment on the mud before her, tearing the wolf corpses buried within into pieces.

The sky gradually darkened, and the hatchlings began preparing their first territory. Their bellies were full now, and they needed to make preparations for survival, hunting, meditation, and sleep.

At least so far, Caesar had not found any trace of aberrations or feral beasts. This place therefore seemed safer than the edge of the jungle. Once they had driven away the nearby carnivorous beasts, the young dragons would not need to worry too much.

With the help of the other two hatchlings, Caesar spent some time carving out a hollow in the shallow bottom of the pool. He then smoothed the surrounding area slightly, expanding it into a fairly spacious U-shaped underwater cave.

That was not enough. Hatchlings treated nests that concerned their lives with absolute rigor. To be safe, they continued working, diligently digging more than one exit at the bottom of the U-shaped nest so they could flee quickly if danger struck in the future.

The pitch-black cave was far inferior to their old swamp nest, but the black dragons were not picky. They only needed somewhere to hide, and it was even better if it also suited their fondness for mud and sludge.

Caesar once again entered that strange and unpredictable space in his dreams. The display cases towering into the darkness still stood in silence, as monotonous, dull, cold, and lifeless as ever.

He waited eagerly for a long time, but no new trophy appeared.

"What's going on?"

Caesar hesitated. In his estimation, if his life were a game, then trophies should be equivalent to rewards for upgrading in a game. There was no reason the experience gained from such a fierce battle should not have been enough for him to complete a second advancement.

Unless his deduction was wrong.

After waiting for a long while, Caesar simply sat down in front of the display cases. He stared into the boundless, profound darkness in the distance, deep in thought.

Killing could not make him stronger. If rewards did not come from a simple monster-killing, level-grinding routine, then what other way was there to gain something?

Black Dream was the foundation upon which he now stood. Of course, he wanted to understand its rules.

Predator, first time, anything is possible, trophy...

The scene of obtaining the bronze cup kept replaying in Caesar's mind. He carefully sorted through every detail, unwilling to overlook the slightest clue.

Trophy, trophy, trophy...

Time continued to pass.

"I get it."

Caesar suddenly understood. He shook his head, swished his tail, and rose to his feet. If his experiences in this other world were a game, then aside from leveling up and training, what other methods were there for earning rewards?

Considering the distinctive form of the reward, Caesar could think of only one possibility: achievements.

The reward for hunting the wild tiger had not come because he had gained enough experience to level up. It was because he had completed the "Predator" achievement.

"Anything is possible... so that was what it meant."

Caesar finally understood the deeper meaning of the small line engraved on the bronze base. He needed to keep trying to complete new achievements and exchange them for as many rewards as possible.

It seemed Black Dream had not arranged an easy path for him.

Among hatchlings without parental protection, fewer than half out of ten might successfully grow into adolescents capable of protecting themselves.

After the siege, the young dragons became even more aware of their weakness. Thus, in the days that followed, aside from Caesar, the glutton who still frequently ambushed animals coming to drink, the other two stayed in the nest as much as possible and survived on carrion.