Parting

After the covenant was forged, the old shaman withdrew with the elite orcs, putting some distance between them and the young dragons. Before leaving, he gave Caesar a meaningful smile.

"You've lost your mind!"

With a formidable enemy at their side earlier, Blakeshia and Garon had no choice but to restrain themselves and force down their emotions as they followed Caesar's arrangements. The young dragons would never turn on each other before outsiders or show their brother a sour face in front of an enemy. But the moment the orcs left, they could endure no longer.

"What the hell were you thinking? You actually wanted to negotiate with orcs, babbling nonsense about friendship and friends!"

Blakeshia leaped and darted about before Caesar, looking as though she wanted nothing more than to claw his face to shreds. "You even signed a divine oath with those lowborn wretches. Do you know that unless one possesses the power of a god, no creature can break such an oath?!"

"I know that very well."

Caesar nodded. He had considered it carefully—the advantages of signing the covenant clearly outweighed the drawbacks. The little female dragon's reaction left him utterly baffled; he could not understand what exactly Blakeshia was so furious about.

When he turned to Garon, however, he found that even the ever-obedient Garon wore an expression that said this was only natural.

"You don't know! You don't understand anything! You're not a true dragon at all!"

Blakeshia was beside herself with rage. Her vocal cords rasped out a shriek, and her voice nearly broke into sobs. "How could you place yourself on the same level as those lowborn wretches? Those slaves, those mongrels—how are they worthy to have their names written on the same parchment as a true dragon's?!"

"Ortolenso."

Garon, who rarely spoke, opened his mouth as well. "I know I'm stupid, but even if we died, we would never bow our heads and negotiate with this scum. Even if we couldn't escape, we would fight to the bitter end, until the last drop of blood ran dry."

For seven years, they had depended on one another as they traveled together. Though there had always been bickering, arguments, and even fights between them, both Blakeshia and Garon had regarded Caesar as family they could rely on.

That dependence ran so deep that when Caesar decided to migrate, the two young dragons packed up without a word and followed him away from the hills where they had lived for so long. Even on the journey north, where the heat grew ever more unbearable for black dragons, they had not uttered a single complaint.

That trust ran so deep that when Caesar negotiated with the orcs, though humiliation was exploding within them, the two young dragons still bit back their words and remained silent.

"You have betrayed us."

Blakeshia looked straight into Caesar's eyes. "Caesar Ortorenso Targaryen, you have defiled your name and brought shame upon House Targaryen. The entire black dragon race would despise you for it."

The trust and dependence built over so long collapsed completely in that instant. No wonder Blakeshia's reaction was so fierce.

"I'm leaving. These lowly green-skinned orcs make me want to vomit."

With that, Blakeshia turned and walked away.

Caesar did not try to stop her.

He understood now. Although he could not truly share the young dragons' feelings, Blakeshia's words had allowed him to understand their thinking.

Dragons were exceedingly stubborn in their beliefs and bore an intense racial prejudice against orcs. They viewed orcs the way humans viewed livestock pigs. To Blakeshia and Garon, Caesar's act of negotiating with the orcs and signing a covenant with them was as incomprehensible as a nobleman choosing to sleep in a pigsty.

The young dragons were not actually wrong. They were true dragons in every sense, carrying the most deeply rooted dragonkind perceptions of other species. It was only natural for them to think this way.

On the contrary, Caesar had become the odd one in their eyes.

Their conflicting beliefs could not be reconciled, so it was better to part ways.

Caesar turned to Garon. Compared to him, the two young dragons were somewhat smaller, so he had to lower himself slightly to speak with them. "What about you?"

Garon froze for a moment. He glanced at Blakeshia's retreating figure, then at Caesar standing still, his throat working.

At last, Garon met Caesar's eyes and said softly, "Ortolenso... farewell, my brother."

Garon followed Blakeshia away.

Caesar smiled. Though Garon usually seemed dim-witted and foolish, he was actually smarter than Blakeshia. That final sentence had clearly been laden with meaning. He seemed to have discovered that Caesar was not truly a dragon, yet did not care.

"House Targaryen... why does that name sound so familiar?"

Caesar scratched at his ear and watched the two young dragons leave side by side, puzzled by his own surname. Fortunately, black dragons were not as sentimental as humans. Even in parting, they were decisive and clean, without a shred of lingering reluctance. He did not feel much emotional turmoil either.

"Come here."

After thinking for a moment, Caesar beckoned with a claw to the new dread wolf leader. The little fellow immediately came panting over with its mouth open.

He was about to move into the orc tribe, and there was little use in keeping the dread wolf pack with him. He might as well let them follow Blakeshia and Garon. The pack could still be of some use in the wild, and it counted as this elder brother's final gesture of care.

"You're changing masters. Go, follow those two fools."

Caesar gently stroked the fur around the dread wolf leader's neck, carefully controlling his strength. His claws were so sharp now that a careless move could slice open the "little dread wolf's" throat.

The dread wolf leader twitched its nose and sniffed, then stretched out its tongue to lick his claw. Only then did it let out a long howl and lead the pack after the young dragons.

Caesar entered that strange and unfathomable space again in his dreams. Ever since receiving his first "Predator" trophy, the display case in Black Dream had fallen silent and shown no further response.

As time passed, if not for his constantly improving physical condition, Caesar might have believed that experience had been nothing but an illusion. But this time, the display case finally opened its doors to him once more.

Two bronze trophies as tall as he was stood in the darkness, leaving Caesar astonished. Seven years had passed without Black Dream making another move, and he had begun to feel discouraged.

Yet this time, it had given him a grand gift—two bronze trophy pedestals had appeared in succession. Several lines of text were printed on the front of each base. Caesar hurried over and began reading carefully.

Light of Wisdom

When faced with danger, you made full use of your mind, turning peril into safety and danger into peace.

—The power of talking people to death is limitless.

Reward: Type I Neural Reflex Enhancer.

Caesar's gaze lingered briefly on the words "Light of Wisdom." Combined with what had happened during the day, he quickly understood that this was a reward for everything he had done after encountering the orcs.

A reward that enhanced reaction speed?

Caesar thought for a moment and roughly guessed what kind of reward it was, then shifted more of his attention to the other bronze trophy.

Anomaly

You are cut off from humanity, and neither are you a dragon in the truest sense.

—One of a kind. Embrace solitude.

Reward: Breath Weapon Implant.