Newborn

The sunset over Ochre Valley was beautiful. Evening clouds flowed down the rolling hills like molten gold, gilding the layered Ironwood Forest.

A sudden breeze stirred, and the leaves of the ironleaf wood trees struck one another, chiming like tiny bells.

Ferrum sneezed as fresh air entered his nostrils and filled his lungs for the first time. Then he rolled over and, with little squeaks and grunts, struggled to straighten his four limbs and stand.

He was a newborn Chrome Dragon hatchling, covered in soft gray scales that had yet to harden. His membranous wings drooped limply, his eyes were bright, and his head was shaped like an inverted triangular spade.

Ferrum Solax. That was his true draconic name.

"Did I just... transmigrate?"

Ferrum raised a hand and stared blankly at the claw before him.

He had originally been an obscure streamer with no girlfriend and a fondness for iced cola. With a little talent for games, he had earned his meals by playing with clients and boosting accounts. In his free time, he watched movies and read novels. Life had not been great, but it had not been bad, either.

One day, while working late into the night, he had suddenly felt the pain in his knee grow sharply worse. Each flare-up lasted several days. Having always assumed it was arthritis, he had finally been forced to go to the hospital for an examination.

The diagnosis had been an advanced malignant tumor. It progressed swiftly, tormenting him for only a year before ending his life.

"Even if you're young, you still need to look after your health..."

Those had been Ferrum's final words in his previous life.

Before he could think any further, the gifts of the true dragon legacy came flooding in. He immediately acquired the language, writing, and sensory instincts of dragons, along with an understanding of his identity as a Heavy-Metal Dragon.

His human soul merged with his dragon body, and the legacy intertwined with his memories until they were inseparable.

Once the astonishment passed, Ferrum found himself feeling rather happy.

He had died young and far too soon in his previous life. Looking back, he had neither earned much money nor properly seen the world. Now that he had discovered a chance to live again, of course his spirits rose.

Although he was no longer human in this life, becoming a healthy, long-lived dragon seemed like a good thing to Ferrum.

He stared at his claws, loosely closing and opening them several times. Then he twisted his neck and tail, shook his membranous wings, and rolled over twice. His body felt so familiar, without the slightest sense of awkwardness or disconnect.

"Mm, tired."

Still, prolonged activity was no easy feat for a newborn. The little Chrome Dragon had little strength. After moving about for a while, he muttered, splayed his hind legs, and plopped back down.

Fortunately, he knew enough to brace his back with his tail instead of simply flopping flat.

Once seated securely, Ferrum began turning his head from side to side, surveying this strange, unknown world.

The scent of damp red earth washed over him, accompanied by a faintly sweet metallic fragrance.

Warm red ochre hills stretched across his vision, dotted with blue-green groves of ironleaf wood trees. A swift, clear stream ran through the middle of the valley. Its mineral-rich bed gave the water a magnificent amber hue.

An enormous head appeared above Ferrum, filling his entire field of vision.

Valyria's scales were as dark as black steel, their edges carrying a faint iron sheen. Angular bony ridges extended along both sides of her head, lending her face a cold, restrained look.

Her eyes glowed red like burning coals. Her spreading horns grew from behind her forehead and swept slightly backward, their rough texture resembling unpolished metal branches.

As the Young Dragon breathed, her immense chest rose and fell slightly, stirring a low rush of air like a furnace slowly working.

What an enormous dragon.

Facing a Giant Dragon whose scales were a completely different color from his own, Ferrum's first reaction was not fear. All sorts of thoughts tumbled through his head. ...Looks like I really did transmigrate.

While Ferrum gazed up at the Great Dragon, Valyria finished inspecting the newborn.

The standing of Chrome Dragons among Heavy-Metal Dragons was roughly equivalent to that of Silver Dragons among Metallic Dragons or Blue Dragons among Chromatic Dragons. They were the second-most powerful kind of Heavy-Metal Dragon. Though their innate physiques were weaker than those of Iron Dragons, they were still well worth nurturing.

Having only just hatched, the little fellow possessed little of a True Dragon's imposing presence. Though he came from an evil-aligned breed, he did not look vicious, only short-limbed, big-headed, and round-bellied.

Only his bright yellow eyes with their vertical pupils, the color of hexavalent chromium, proclaimed his equally noble pureblood status.

After the Supreme Dragon fell, the Heavy-Metal Dragons lost their deity and suffered an unprecedented catastrophe.

From that point onward, the notion of being destined from birth ceased to exist. Whether a Heavy-Metal Dragon was good or evil now depended entirely on their own temperament and experiences. These days, the lands held gentle, friendly Chrome Dragons as well as savage, cruel Tungsten Dragons.

It was clear that this newborn Chrome Dragon was in good condition. Though not as large as an Iron Dragon, he was slightly bigger than other Heavy-Metal Dragons. He was sturdy, lively, and healthy, and one glance was enough to tell that he had a steady temperament and would be easy to raise.

Valyria nodded, satisfied. Then she extended her claws and dropped a piece of beast meat almost as large as the Dragon Hatchling himself.

As soon as the food landed, Ferrum moved instinctively. He quickly crawled forward a little, raised his foreclaws, and supported himself on his hind feet alone. First he pinned the meat beneath him, then he inspected the raw flesh he had secured.

The food looked like a cow's leg, only much larger than an ordinary one. It was certainly good stuff and looked extremely fresh, clearly torn off only recently. Fat and lean meat alternated at the torn end, where the grain of the flesh and white sinews were plainly visible.

Unfortunately, it was completely raw, and blood was still slowly seeping out.

Should I eat it?

Ferrum smacked his lips, seemingly reluctant to eat raw flesh and blood.

Reluctant as he might seem, his body never lied. From the Young Dragon's perspective, the hatchling was hugging the leg meat with shining eyes, drool running back and forth along his mouth. His craving was impossible to conceal.

After hesitating for a few seconds, the little Chrome Dragon seemed to reach a decision. At last, he took an enormous bite, nearly burying his entire head in the meat.

The surface of the leg meat retained the resistance of freshly torn flesh, yet it was not difficult to chew. It was astonishingly tender. As soon as Ferrum's teeth sank in, the muscle and sinew parted gently beneath them, like fat sliced by a hot knife, yet still held a pleasantly springy bite.

What followed was an immediate, intense rush of bloody freshness.

There was none of the complex flavor of seasoned, cooked food, only the wilderness's most primal delicacy-

The sweetness of blood, the richness of fat, and the firm savor of muscle itself burst across his mouth at once.

Like a ball of fire, it slid down his throat and settled deep within him, warming the dragon from head to tail.

"It's actually pretty tasty."

Ferrum narrowed his eyes and wagged his tail involuntarily. Sprawled over the leg meat, he chomped away noisily.

Simply put... he was thoroughly enjoying his meal.

However, he was not the valley's only hatchling. Among the surrounding stones and red earth lay numerous Dragon Hatchlings with scales of different colors. Hearing the commotion, they turned their gazes toward him one after another.

They had hatched earlier than Ferrum and had also been fed by Valyria. They had already finished eating.

Every hatchling knew that leg meat tasted best, which only sharpened their longing. Now their eyes gleamed, and the greedy appetite innate to dragons drove them to itch for action.

But dragons were not witless beasts. Even Lesser Dragons without a dragon legacy were cleverer than most intelligent creatures, born knowing how to read expressions, seek advantage, and avoid harm.

They did not rush forward to fight over the food because they had yet to understand the Young Dragon's temperament. They did not know the Great Dragon's likes, dislikes, or rules, and feared that acting rashly would anger her. Thus, they hesitated, unwilling to be the first troublemaker to step out of line.

After a while, a slightly larger Iron Dragon finally could not resist moving.

This hatchling had also received a piece of leg meat earlier. Believing that this meant special treatment, the Iron Dragon was a little bolder than the others.

Even so, the hatchling did not immediately pounce to snatch the food. Instead, the Iron Dragon circled around a little and advanced slowly, testing the way with alternating steps, approaching Ferrum while watching the Great Dragon's reaction.

Valyria sat motionless, her expression blank.

Ferrum did not even glance at the approaching Iron Dragon. He merely wagged his tail and continued eating, having nearly finished the leg meat.

Only when the Iron Dragon came close did the Chrome Dragon finally raise his head and stare straight at the intruder. His throat vibrated softly, producing a low, muffled growl.

The Iron Dragon answered with the same sound.

Seeing that the other hatchling would not retreat, Ferrum bared his sharp teeth, the bony spikes behind his neck trembling faintly. He had already adjusted to the air of the outside world, and after eating the bloody meat, strength had surged through his body.

The little Chrome Dragon planted his feet on the leftover bone, propped himself higher, and prepared to fight.

Only then did the Young Dragon finally intervene. With two clawed digits, she lifted the Iron Dragon and placed the hatchling back in the original spot.

"Every hatchling here is a member of the Ashmark Lineage, regardless of scale color or bloodline. For now, you are not permitted to fight over food distributed by the lineage."

The Young Dragon opened with that low declaration. Only then did she look down at those around her and speak slowly. "Valyria · Burningheart. That is my name. You may call me the Nurturer. From now on, I will be responsible for your upbringing and training."

At last, the sun sank below the horizon. Night fell, and Ochre Valley grew dim.