Waterhole

After some deliberation, Caesar still chose to leave with the two hatchlings. It was not driven by emotion, merely a simple weighing of pros and cons—he wanted to bring along two helpers.

The road ahead was uncertain, and the newborn hatchlings were in a dangerous situation. The jungle was full of killing intent. Though forming a small group made them a larger target, it also greatly improved the three little ones' combat strength, much like a wolf pack.

In this place, strength was the only guarantee of survival.

Besides, Garon and Blakeshia were not burdens. They were true dragons, and with the genetically modified Caesar added to the mix, even though all three black dragons were still young, ordinary creatures were no match for them.

Still, if getting along proved truly unpleasant, Caesar was unwilling to compromise. Once they found stability, he would look for a chance to leave. There was no need to make himself miserable for the sake of temporary convenience.

He believed the other two hatchlings thought the same way.

What Caesar had never been able to understand was this: why had a Green Dragon suddenly taken over the black dragon's swamp nest?

Logically speaking, the black dragon mother was long past the age of irresponsibly laying eggs wherever she pleased. During pregnancy, she would only build a nest and lay eggs after confirming that there were no creatures nearby capable of threatening her.

Where had the Green Dragon come from? Why had the black dragon never known of its existence?

After escaping the swamp nest for several miles, Caesar finally understood. Greed for treasure had merely been a spur-of-the-moment impulse. The real reason the Green Dragon had traveled so far was this cursed climate.

It was now the dry season, and the temperature kept rising. The blazing sun of this other world was especially vicious. Riverbeds were rapidly drying up, water sources had vanished, and all that remained were vast stretches of cracked mud.

The temperate rainforest was gradually turning into hilly grasslands filled with withered yellow trees.

In search of a habitable environment, the Green Dragon had been forced to migrate. Thus, the black dragon's damp, dark swamp nest had become its target.

"Hiss..."

The two hatchlings let out uneasy hisses. They had a natural aversion to drought. The temperature here had risen above forty degrees. Though it posed no direct threat to dragons, it still made their entire bodies uncomfortable.

But discomfort had to be endured. They could not go back. That humid place had already been occupied by the Green Dragon, and an evil dragon with such a strong sense of territory would never tolerate the presence of foreign hatchlings.

The hatchlings had encountered their first problem since leaving their black dragon mother.

"Ortolenso, what do we do next?" Garon asked, fiddling with his newly acquired toy—a black-backed beetle.

Hearing that, Blakeshia also instinctively looked at Caesar. Although this "big brother" had secretly eaten the eggshells and run off alone, leaving her with a poor impression of him, it was obvious that Caesar's thoughts and actions were far more mature than those of the other two hatchlings.

Come to think of it, among the three hatchlings, Caesar—whose talent had yet to awaken—actually possessed more of their mother's temperament. Whenever he became serious, he carried a quiet strength that made them instinctively place a certain amount of hope in him.

"Call me Caesar," Caesar said.

In truth, by dragon naming customs, names like "Caesar," "Garon," and "Eileen" were more like symbols, while "Ortolenso," "Nefadixius," and "Blakeshia" were their actual names.

However, he had an obvious prejudice against long strings of names. He preferred that others, whether human or dragon, call him Caesar rather than by any other true name.

"All right, Caesar. What should we do next?" Blakeshia changed her wording, unwilling to waste time on forms of address as she waited for him to make a decision.

"First, the outside world is dangerous. It is nothing like the fishing game from before. Since we have decided to stick together, we must be responsible for each other's actions. There is no room for even the slightest mistake or wishful thinking."

Caesar spoke solemnly, though it was truly difficult for a hatchling to look serious. His head was large, and when he focused, his entire face seemed chubby, making him look somewhat cute instead.

Yet Garon and Blakeshia still nodded. They knew better than Caesar just how difficult it was for hatchlings without parental protection to survive in the wild. Dragon mortality peaked during the hatchling and young dragon stages—the former because they were weak, the latter because they were reckless.

That was also why they had chosen to follow Caesar. In fact, most hatchlings at this stage made the same choice. Grouping together did not dramatically increase their side's combat power, but it at least gave them a bit more security.

"Good."

Caesar responded, scraping at the dirt with his claws. He furrowed the skin over his brow bones—dragons had no eyebrows—and wrote the Draconic character for "water" in the sand.

Dragons were indeed magical creatures, but no matter how powerful they were, they could not escape the most basic physiological needs: water and food.

The genetically modified Caesar did not feel it yet, but the other two hatchlings were clearly thirsty. Even mighty true dragons were affected, so other creatures were surely even more desperate for water. Under such circumstances, they would instinctively gather around water sources.

During the dry season, in barren hills, finding water also meant finding food.

"Understood."

Garon nodded. Their first consideration had been building a nest and settling down, and that too was inseparable from the issue of water.

Once they reached an agreement, Garon immediately spat out a mouthful of acid, corroded the black-backed beetle, tossed it into his mouth, and flew into the sky to search for signs of rivers and lakes.

Blakeshia also beat her wings and followed behind Garon, intending to join the search, but Caesar grabbed her.

"There are not many blind spots in the terrain here. Searching together will not accomplish much. When he comes down, you can take his place."

Just as Caesar had expected, the once-abundant forest was gradually withering. Great swathes of trees had died, and the rivers that had once nourished countless creatures had become, as far as the eye could see, nothing but dry riverbeds stretching for hundreds of miles.

Fortunately, after nearly half a day of searching, they finally found a lake.

Calling it a lake was an exaggeration. It was really only a larger puddle. These were not oases, merely shallow watering holes scattered across the vast wilderness.

But that was enough to fill the little dragons with delight. This waterhole was sufficient for the hatchlings' daily needs. Caesar had been right: they were now at the height of the dry season, and the desire to quench thirst would draw a constant stream of animals here. Many creatures lingered around the waterhole.

As long as they could gain a foothold here, they would not lack meat for the entire dry season.

Though they preferred fish and aquatic creatures, the two hatchlings had no choice at a time like this. To survive, they could only endure it.

"Oh."

The hatchlings cheered to one another, impatient to rush into the waterhole, drink their fill, roll about in the mud, and coat their bodies in silt.

But Caesar's expression was somewhat grave. This place did not belong to them yet. Where there was prey, there were predators. His eyesight was even better than that of the other hatchlings, and he had clearly spotted large crocodiles rising and sinking in the water, along with traces of Spiketail Lions and Terror Wolves in the weed-choked wilderness.

They had come too late.

Giant crocodiles, Spiketail Lions, Terror Wolves, hyenas, leopards, and others had long since claimed this land. The banquet was already full, yet there was always another hungry mouth waiting to fight for every drop of blood.

If an adult black dragon arrived, these creatures would only be able to tuck their tails and flee. Even a single young dragon would be enough.

But Caesar was not one. The three of them were merely newborn hatchlings.

Although the other predators could sense the threat they posed, they continued to linger, unwilling to leave this food-rich land.