The First Familiar

"Great true dragon, thank you for saving my humble life. Please... please accept my worship."

It was worth noting that the kobold spoke in the Draconic language, but his accent was so heavy that even Jose, an orthodox true dragon, could barely understand him.

Jose puffed out his chest and accepted the kobold's worship.

For Lower Dragonkin and some Evil Races, the Five-Colored Evil Dragons were like infamous underworld bosses—objects of their worship. Whenever the opportunity arose, they would attach themselves to such dragons, taking pride in serving a true dragon.

However, what they worshipped was the power of the dragon race, not the dragon itself. If they encountered a true dragon with greater strength, these turncoat brats would unhesitatingly switch sides. History recorded more than one instance where two dragons fought, only for the weaker dragon to discover mid-battle that all its underlings had defected to the opponent.

Therefore, one had to be careful when employing these Lower Dragonkin, ideally maintaining an absolute advantage in power.

After a moment, he felt it was enough.

"Rise. Which tribe do you belong to? Why were the centaurs chasing you?"

"Great true dragon, I am a member of the Bloodtooth Kobold Tribe. As for why the Graytail Centaurs were chasing me, I originally went to seek help..."

Through the kobold's clumsy Draconic narration, Jose pieced together the whole story.

The Bloodtooth Tribe and the Graytail Centaur Tribe had once been "friends." Kobolds excelled at mining but didn't produce food; centaurs needed metal arrowheads but lacked ore. So the kobolds traded ore for the centaurs' grain—a mutually beneficial arrangement.

But some time ago, three Extraordinary Beasts—Petrification Lizards—appeared out of nowhere and raided the kobolds' mine, driving them out.

Caught off guard, the kobolds managed to bring out only a tiny amount of food. Starving and freezing, with no way out, they sent an envoy to seek help from their old trading partners, the Graytail Centaur Tribe. The envoy nearly ended up a slave instead.

Jose sensed a flaw in the kobold's story. Centaurs weren't fools—how could they let a captured slave escape at night? He voiced his doubt.

"How did you escape from the slave pen? Tell me."

The kobold grew excited. "In that battle against the centaurs, I awakened my magical power. I wasn't familiar with my new ability yet, so I pretended to collapse from exhaustion and let myself be captured. When night came and the guard dozed off, I used magic to finish him. Then I stirred up the other slaves to set fire to the centaurs' huts. We escaped in the chaos... and eventually, I encountered you."

After hearing the kobold's escape story, Jose couldn't help but regard him more highly.

This one had backbone!

At a critical moment, he awakened as a Dragon Vein Warlock, but trapped by overwhelming enemy forces, he couldn't fight head-on. The kobold feigned weakness, let himself be captured, found an opportunity to incite a slave revolt, and set fires to break out—a display of both courage and cunning.

Not only that, but he also had luck. Awakening as a warlock was luck, and encountering Jose at a desperate moment was even greater luck.

Luck was intangible, yet it truly existed—untouchable, unforceable.

If ordinary people wanted to seek it, their best bet was to befriend the fortunate and wait for a leg up when fortune smiled on them.

As a dragon, Jose had a better option. He decided to take this kobold as his retainer.

"Excellent." Jose spread his dragon wings and puffed out his chest to make his form appear more imposing. "Your courage and wisdom shall receive my reward. The great true dragon—Francisco Trinidad Jose—grants you the glory of becoming a Servant of the Dragon."

The kobold froze for a moment, then burst into ecstasy. He dropped to his knees with a thud. "This is my honor, my... master."

Jose nodded, very satisfied with the kobold's reaction. He took out a scale shed during his growth, thought for a moment, and squeezed out a drop of blood.

Seeing this, the kobold's face lit up even more. As an awakened Dragon Vein Warlock, he had glimpsed some basic dragon knowledge from his bloodline. Dragons had three tiers for taking on underlings:

The highest tier was the Essence Blood Contract. A dragon's mountain-sized body stored plenty of blood, but what could be called essence blood was only a small bowlful from the heart. The Essence Blood Contract required the dragon to force out a drop of essence blood and transfer it to the retainer, fundamentally transforming the retainer's bloodline into a dragon-blooded creature. The retainer would gain the ability to grow alongside the master. However, this contract drained the dragon greatly and was not used lightly.

The middle tier was Dragon Blood plus a dragon scale. Using the scale as paper and blood as ink, a magical contract established a spiritual connection with the retainer. The retainer would be transformed into a Dragonkin and could also benefit from the master's growth, but far less than with the Essence Blood Contract.

The lowest tier was simply being tainted by the dragon's aura—granting dragon blood, a scale, or even just staying near the dragon long enough to absorb some aura and gain a faint dragon vein. Such retainers gained no benefits from the master's growth but were correspondingly much freer.

Jose chanted a spell. The dragon scale and blood slowly rose into the air under an invisible force, drew close, and merged into one. The crimson scale flashed with a faint light.

Nearby, the white dragon—Kashi—watched enviously. Though he was two or three years older than his boss and had entered the Juvenile Dragon stage, the white dragon was called the shame of the dragon race for a reason. He hadn't yet awakened spellcasting ability and naturally couldn't contract retainers.

As the spell progressed, lines of tiny script appeared on the scale—a contract written in Draconic. This contract wasn't drafted by the dragon itself but passed down from the First Ancestral Dragon, refined over many years, and was considered one of the most perfect contracts in the Multiverse.

The contract completed, the scale slowly descended toward the kneeling kobold's forehead, adhered to his brow, and gradually melted into his skin, disappearing. The dragon vein contained in the scale dispersed throughout his body, nourishing flesh, blood, sinews, and bones, fundamentally improving the kobold's physique.

The kobold gritted his teeth and endured the pain—the throes of bloodline transformation reshaping his body. After enduring this suffering, he would be reborn.

After about ten minutes, the bloodline transformation was complete. The kobold's face, tense from enduring pain, gradually relaxed. He opened his eyes; his bright yellow vertical pupils had turned slightly red—a sign of the red dragon bloodline taking effect.

Jose sensed a faint spiritual connection between himself and the kobold before him, realizing his first retainer had been born.

"My servant, tell me your name."

"Answering master, my name is Ergou."

Ergou? Er Gouzi?!

For a kobold, the name fit perfectly.

"Alright, Er Gouzi, take me to your camp."

Er Gouzi?

Ergou felt some confusion but dared not raise any objection.

"As you wish."

Led by Ergou, Jose entered the forest. After traveling some distance, they arrived at a mountain foothill. On the woodland before the foothill was camped the escaped Bloodtooth Kobold Tribe.

Calling it a camp was generous—it was really just an open-air site in the woods. Stones formed a circle, with sticks propped up as frames, and a hanging pot suspended from one frame. That was the only structure in the camp.

Seeing their clansman return with two great true dragons, the shock among the Bloodtooth Tribe kobolds was immense. Those who had been lying on the ground like corpses scrambled to their feet, jaws dropping as they gazed up at the dragons' majestic forms.

Under the gazes of all the kobolds, Jose walked to the center of the tribe. With a flick of his tail, he sent a millstone-sized rock flying. With a thunderous crash, the stone smashed into a tree as thick as a grown man's waist, snapping it in half with a grating crack.

"From now on," Jose declared, spreading his broad dragon wings against the backdrop of the slowly toppling tree, "you are mine."