The Wilds

The hatchlings let out excited screeches and rushed impatiently toward the pool, rolling around in the mud on their own and ignoring the hostile or wary gazes of the other predators.

They had no reason to fear. While their black dragon mother had still been around, these predators—even the more formidable dire beasts—had been nothing more than food.

Why would lions fear livestock?

Garon and Blakeshia had nothing but contempt in their eyes, but they had forgotten one crucial point: bloodline and status aside, a hatchling's actual combat strength was not much greater than that of these powerful predators.

Fortunately, Caesar remembered.

And as he watched the various predators gradually close in on the hatchlings, Caesar was certain that they remembered as well.

These lesser creatures were not to be underestimated. They were very intelligent. Once they realized the hatchlings posed a threat, the animals reached an agreement through nothing more than exchanged looks and formed an alliance.

In nature, when predators outnumbered their prey, they either starved to death or kept eliminating the weak until balance was restored.

Clearly, the predators around this pool had already reached near saturation. They could no longer accommodate other carnivores.

In this area, no single animal could defeat three hatchlings. If they did not want to be driven out and eliminated, they could only join forces against the black dragon young.

To survive, they had to kill the three hatchlings. At the very least, they had to drive them away and chase off these newly arrived competitors.

"This is a little troublesome."

Caesar had a slight headache. Garon and Blakeshia had been too domineering, claiming the very center of the pool the moment they arrived and provoking the greatest possible resentment from the other predators, leading to the worst possible outcome.

They were true dragons, yes, but black dragons at this age were not necessarily a match for such a large pack of predators.

A bloody battle was unavoidable.

Still, though he was somewhat displeased by the two hatchlings' recklessness, Caesar did not truly blame his brother and sister. Thirst was an instinct black dragons could not suppress, as natural and essential as eating and relieving oneself for humans. Even he felt an unconscious urge to rush into the water.

But he could restrain that urge. What truly angered Caesar was the hatchlings' dull reaction.

The other predators had already formed an encirclement and bared their killing intent, yet Garon and Blakeshia were still playing in the mud, stirring up sludge without the slightest hint of caution.

"I'm guessing you've awakened some new dragon talent again, so you don't think you need to take these carnivores seriously at all."

Caesar had a mean streak. He suddenly decided not to warn them. The jungle was no game; the two hatchlings needed a sufficiently painful lesson.

Fortunately, dragons had thick hides and tough bodies. Even under siege, they would not be in serious trouble for a while.

Thinking this, Caesar crouched down maliciously amid the hills and watched the situation unfold. His gaze shifted between the Spiketail Lions and the Terror Wolf pack. These creatures, which clearly did not exist in his memories, made him somewhat uneasy.

The Terror Wolf leader was noticeably larger than the other male wolves, with an exaggerated scar along the underside of its neck. It was a mark left by battles with other predators. Though it had healed, the twisted wound was still shocking to behold.

Its fur was thick and stood erect like steel needles as it paced sideways.

Though wary of the black dragon young, this Terror Wolf was not afraid. It studied Garon and Blakeshia with narrowed eyes, its bright yellow irises flickering as a restrained growl rumbled in its throat.

Behind it stood the wolf pack.

The two Spiketail Lions swayed their scorpion-like tails as they slowly approached. One of them opened its mouth in a silent yawn, revealing sharp teeth still flecked with scraps of meat.

Caesar could even smell the rank stench carried on the wind.

There was no imagined furious roar. The Spiketail Lions pounced directly, launching their attack without warning. They shifted from stillness to motion in an instant and charged straight at the two hatchlings.

The next moment, the wolf pack began to run as well. They leaped into the marsh one after another, splashing through the water as they closed in on the hatchlings from another direction.

Whether Spiketail Lions, Terror Wolves, or the hyenas and leopards waiting for an opening, they all remained quiet and silent throughout.

The first roar of the entire encounter actually came from the black dragons.

"Roar!"

"Damn it, you insolent bastards!"

Blakeshia screeched in the common tongue. The two hatchlings had finally realized something was wrong. These lesser races actually dared to bare their claws and fangs at dragons. The hatchlings moved closer together and roared shrilly.

They were using Ferocious Presence, but a hatchling's dragon might was too thin to intimidate equally ferocious large predators, and it failed to achieve its intended effect.

Watching from the ridge, Caesar wanted to cover his face. The two hatchlings still had not grasped the situation. Instead of trying to break out, they were still roaring threats.

In this land of raw flesh and blood, without strength, forget dragons—even gods from the heavens would be torn apart by these animals that acted on instinct.

It seemed they were bound to take a thorough beating. Unless they got hurt and lost a few scales, they would never learn.

The hatchlings were surrounded.

Fortunately, they were not collapsing as badly as Caesar had imagined. Though they had fallen into an ambush and were immediately struck by the mucus sprayed from the Spiketail Lions' scorpion tails, losing the ability to fly, they still fought their opponents blow for blow with their sharp claws and teeth, sturdy scales, and the brutal, vicious savagery ingrained in black dragons' bones.

There were simply too many opponents. The Spiketail Lions and Terror Wolves alone were difficult enough to handle, not to mention the hyenas and leopards circling nearby and striking them from time to time.

As time passed, the hatchlings, deprived of flight, would sooner or later be worn to death.

"Hmm... Besides their usual methods, there's that tail. It looks pretty sharp. Getting stabbed by it could be fatal."

Caesar watched the battlefield and muttered to himself. He was not merely watching the hatchlings get beaten out of malicious amusement. His mind was racing as well, analyzing the attack patterns and strength of creatures he had never seen before.

Creatures like Spiketail Lions and Terror Wolves, unique to this world, had already gone beyond the level of ordinary beasts and barely qualified as dire beasts.

"Ortolenso!"

Garon slapped the Terror Wolf biting his tail to the ground and shouted loudly for help.

"They don't fly using magic? Yet the mucus still restricted them. That means the Spiketail Lion's mucus has some ability to block the flow of magical power."

Caesar noted down his deduction, then turned his gaze toward the Terror Wolf pack. "Their attacks are orderly, their roles clearly divided. They have an obvious social structure, and the alpha seems quite intelligent."

"Caesar!" Blakeshia was flipped over by an agile Spiketail Lion and shrieked.

"The hyenas and leopards are about the same size as those on Earth. They haven't shown any extraordinary strength, so they probably can't pose much of a threat to hatchlings on their own. No wonder they're hiding in the back."

Caesar ignored her and continued observing the battlefield, sorting through the information he had gathered once more. Only after confirming that there were no oversights did he mutter softly, "Call me Daddy, and I'll come help you."

He lightly spread his dragon wings and began to trot with nimble steps. Only after several paces did he gradually accelerate, eventually reaching his limit and charging headlong into the wolf pack.

"Bang, bang, bang..."

This was a genetically modified black dragon, far stronger than his siblings. Caesar was like a heavily armored tank, crashing into the wolves with a howl. Only after knocking over the fourth Terror Wolf did his momentum finally slow.

"Kill the alpha first!"

Caesar roared, shoved aside the mangled beast corpse stuck to his body, accelerated again, and charged toward the Terror Wolf leader protected deep within the pack.