The Nurturer's Task

When Ferrum arrived at the gathering place, he found that many Dragon Hatchlings were already waiting there, bouncing around and crying to be fed.

After quite some time, the small Kobolds finally filed out of their huts.

They held rocks of varying shapes but similar sizes, carefully placing them before the hatchlings before retreating as if fleeing.

Although Kobolds were born to revere and serve dragons, the scents here were far too chaotic. Great Dragons and Lesser Dragons, True Dragons and lesser kin were all present, leaving them dizzy and unsteady on their feet. They could only keep a respectful distance.

Ferrum withdrew his gaze and looked at the rock before him.

The stone was a dark blend of reddish brown, rough in texture, with vein-like patterns across its surface. It lay heavily pressed into the mud.

It was a piece of Hematite Ore.

Ferrum reached out with a claw and prodded it twice. Heavy-Metal Dragons favored metal, and of course he liked ore as well, but liking it was one thing. It was mealtime now—surely they could not expect him to fill his stomach with something this hard?

Not long ago, he had been thinking that the family would not make Dragon Hatchlings eat dirt and gnaw trees. Had things changed in barely half a day? Were the regular blood meals now being replaced with stones?

Up above, Valyria surveyed the hatchlings below, her gaze slowly sweeping over them as though confirming their numbers. After a moment of silence, she finally spoke.

"Six-month-old hatchlings may begin training."

The Nurturer's voice was calm. "These ores contain a certain amount of iron, yet they are not as hard as actual iron chunks. Now, I want you to bite them into pieces."

"The ancestors of Heavy-Metal Dragons believed that while hatchlings had not fully developed, they could absorb metallic elements through the training of chewing ore, making their fangs sharper and harder."

Every little dragon sat up straight, falling silent for a moment.

Valyria bent down and picked up a piece of iron ore in her jaws. The thing was nearly as large as a Dragon Hatchling, yet it seemed insignificant between the Young Dragon's upper and lower jaws.

The sound of the ore shattering was faint. What was heavy was the thunderous clash of teeth, like two steel plates violently colliding.

The Young Dragon crushed the ore with a single bite, then slowly ground it with her back teeth, ruthlessly pulverizing both stone and metal between them.

After a while, Valyria opened her fangs. Fine powder seeped from between her teeth and fell onto the plateau, gathering into a high mound.

"Only this counts as perfect."

Having finished her demonstration, the Young Dragon sat upright again and looked around. "I will not force Lesser Dragons, but Heavy-Metal Dragons must at least bite their ore into six equal pieces. If you cannot do that, you will receive no blood meals for the next three days. This is a Dragon Hatchling's first training. Show me what you can do."

As soon as the Nurturer finished speaking, Ferrum saw Ladon move first from some distance away.

That Iron Dragon's full name was Ladon Longtan, and he was currently the largest and strongest among the hatchlings.

His scales had clearly gained a sheen, rather than the dullness of young scales, as though he wore a suit of armor. His fangs and claws were already formidable. Though only six months old, he did not resemble a hatchling at all, instead carrying some of the bearing of a Great Dragon.

Ladon bit down with force. The fin-like bony ridges along his spine flared fiercely, and the muscles in his neck bulged with every bite. The ore cracked beneath his tremendous strength, producing sharp crunches as his heavy breathing mixed with loud chewing.

"Ah, right now I suddenly wish I were a Lesser Dragon."

Beside him, Moqi covered his head with his claws and let out a mournful sigh.

Though it looked difficult to bite, after hesitating for a while, Moqi finally picked up the ore and stuffed one of its corners into his mouth. At the same time, the other hatchlings began moving as well.

Soon, low hisses rose and fell throughout the valley.

Ferrum saw a Nickel Dragon bite down too hard. Being the weakest and smallest to begin with, its mouth was immediately cut open by the ore.

They screamed continuously in pain, spitting out several mouthfuls of bloody saliva. Then fear appeared on their faces as they stared hesitantly at the ore, unable to continue for a long while.

Ferrum withdrew his gaze and remained silent.

He recalled what had happened earlier.

Leijieduolei had lost to him not long ago and had been mockingly called "the shame of Iron Dragons" by the other hatchlings. Yet he had still sworn that, after some time, he would stomp Ferrum beneath his feet again.

It was not because Leijieduolei possessed extraordinary talent or worked exceptionally hard, but simply because of the suppression of dragon bloodlines.

As the Royal Strain among Heavy-Metal Dragons, Iron Dragons had always faced Purple Dragons, Gold Dragons, and Red Dragons—the strongest members of other dragon races—not little dragons like them, who ranked lower.

The Dragon Legacy told Ferrum that rank could not be changed, and gaps in talent were inevitable. Iron Dragons were destined to be powerful, Chrome Dragons and Cobalt Dragons were a step weaker, while the other two types of Heavy-Metal Dragons were weaker still.

Because of this understanding, most Dragon Hatchlings could accept being easily defeated by Iron Dragons without complaint.

But Ferrum was unwilling.

He had not been in this world for very long, and he currently had no lofty dreams or ambitions. There was only one thing—

He did not want to fall behind the kind he spent every day with, nor was he willing to be effortlessly suppressed and defeated by dragons his own age simply because they had time to grow.

Because of that small unwillingness, Ferrum had constantly explored ways to become stronger. He had tried training his muscles, injuring and mutilating himself, even eating dirt and gnawing trees.

Unfortunately, some methods were completely useless, while others had produced only minimal results.

Still, he was willing to try. Valyria had said that chewing ore could strengthen teeth, and Ferrum naturally did not doubt her. So long as there was a chance to improve, he would take it seriously.

Just like those minimally effective exercises, Ferrum persisted with them every day.

Ferrum opened his fangs and began biting.

This was the first time he had gnawed on something so hard. It was far sturdier than the claws and scales he bit during fights. The moment he began struggling against it, the vibrations from his teeth spread from their roots all the way into his jawbone.

The edge of the ore was rough and embedded itself in his gums, immediately drawing a trace of bloody sweetness.

It hurt.

Ferrum did not stop. He pinned the ore down with his foreclaws, shoved one end into his mouth, pressed half his body over it, tensed his tail, and ground it with his back teeth.

Cracks appeared in the stone under his steadily increasing force. Before long, the cracks spread, and beneath the Chrome Dragon's repeated pressure, a piece finally broke off.

A strange taste spread through his mouth. Apart from blood, there was also the cold, damp flavor seeping from the ore, laced with metallic bitterness.

Ferrum lowered his eyes and slowly ground the ore with his teeth, savoring its flavor. To his surprise, it had a certain taste to it, as though some hidden ancient craving in his bloodline had been gently uncovered at one corner.

Time passed, and the sounds of biting in the valley grew sparse as more and more hatchlings gave up midway.

Several Nickel Dragons had stopped completely. Their mouths burned so badly that they could not endure it at all. They simply pushed their ore aside, curled up, and accepted their punishment.

On the other side, Moqi had only just bitten his ore into two pieces when three of his teeth snapped.

He looked around indecisively, first at the Nickel Dragons who had given up, then at the silent Ferrum beside him. After pondering for a while, his eyes shifted.

He copied Ferrum's posture and pinned the ore beneath himself, but instead of biting it, he secretly used all his strength to break it apart with his claws.

Several times, the Nurturer's gaze swept over him. Moqi immediately stuffed the pieces he had broken off into his mouth. In his panic, he even swallowed them whole, pretending he had bitten them into powder and absorbed them.

Ferrum glanced over from the corner of his eye and saw the fellow looking swollen and miserable, lying there twisting left and right, drenched in sweat and unable to sit still.

Worth mentioning was that, although the Nurturer had not forced them to do so, one Lesser Dragon was actually imitating them and biting ore as well.

Behind Moqi, beyond the rows of Dragon Hatchlings blocking the view, a Thunderclap Dragon could be seen lowering its body, hunching its back as it chewed slowly. Its progress could not be seen, but the rise and fall of its back showed that it was still trying.

The Iron Dragons performed the best.

They developed faster than other dragon races. Their bodies were stronger and their teeth harder, and the knowledge in their legacy told them that the Nurturer was not lying. Thus, every one of them worked especially hard.

Seeing this, the pressure in Ferrum's heart increased.

Because of the illness that had tormented him in his previous life, he was actually very capable of enduring pain, which was why he had held on. But he had not expected that not a single Iron Dragon would give up either.

Though they were all merely hatchlings, they displayed unyielding fighting spirit, each one stopping only after biting their ore into six pieces and completing the Nurturer's task.

Valyria looked down over the entire scene, her expression calm.

She was not surprised by the Iron Dragons' performance. Chewing ore had always been an Iron Dragon tradition. At six months old, the little ones should have been able to crush ore. Accomplishing it was only natural; failing to do so was what should not have happened.

Then she noticed Ferrum, who was still working. This little Chrome Dragon had already completed the requirement, yet he continued, seemingly wanting to do even better.

Valyria watched for a while and nodded lightly, but said nothing.

Ladon was also watching Ferrum.

By now, all the Iron Dragons had completed their training, but only Ladon had achieved the "perfect" result the Nurturer had described.

Expressionless, he looked down at the Chrome Dragon still gnawing away. He opened his fangs, and ore powder seeped from the gaps between his teeth, falling to the ground like flowing sand.

Ferrum ignored those gazes.

His mouth was a mangled mess. Sharp particles rolled around inside it, as though someone had thrust a sharp knife into his mouth and was wildly stirring it around.

The broken stumps and cracks in his teeth were horrifying to behold. Intense pain traveled along his nerves and spread across his entire face. Some fine powder choked his throat, giving him a true burning sensation.

Ferrum was much slower than the Iron Dragons. In the end, he still failed to grind the ore into powder, leaving behind many fragments of varying sizes.

But he could not continue.

His teeth had all been damaged, losing their former sharpness and hardness. He could no longer grind the ore. No matter how hard he persisted, it would be futile and would only injure himself further.

The Chrome Dragon finally stopped, his mouth full of blood.

He opened his mouth and breathed heavily. Blood ran uncontrollably down his lower jaw, staining the sandy ground a dark red.