The forest had grown strangely silent. Days of hunting had carved out a space of emptiness around his domain, the lesser beasts either slain or long since fled. No cries echoed at dawn, no movements in the underbrush at dusk. Only the steady rustle of the wind through the trees and the rhythmic thrum of his wings as John patrolled his skies.
It was a strange kind of silence. Not peaceful—never peaceful in a place like this—but heavy. Watchful.
John's body had grown with every battle, and he could feel it in ways both subtle and overt. His wings stretched broader, carrying him further with each beat. His scales were thicker, gleaming faintly when the twin moons caught them at night. The strength coiled in his muscles was enough to crush stone, and the fires within his chest burned hotter than they ever had before.
He felt stronger. Faster. Sharper.
But feelings weren't facts.
And facts, he had learned, were often cruel.
On the eighth morning since he began pressing deeper into the forest, John stumbled upon a lake.
It lay at the very edge of his expanded domain, nestled between ridges of jagged rock and draped in a curtain of mist. The water was still, black as polished obsidian, reflecting the world above with eerie perfection.
John landed at its edge, claws digging into the stone. He leaned forward, staring into the water.
What stared back at him wasn't the same dragon that had first awakened here.
His reflection had changed.
His horns, once stubby ridges, now curved back in sleek arcs, sharp as blades. His wings stretched wide, the membranes taut, veins glowing faintly with streaks of violet mana. His eyes burned brighter—amber flames in the void of his scaled face. His body was thicker, longer, a predator's frame honed by endless hunts.
The dragon in the water looked… dangerous. Regal, even.
John tilted his head. The reflection followed. For a moment, he didn't recognize himself.
"…I've grown," he muttered under his breath, the words almost foreign.
The system answered, cold and mechanical.
[Status Updated.]
[Growth: Due to continuous combat, natural draconic evolution has accelerated.]
[Physical stature: Increased by 12%.]
[Dark Mana Core: Stabilizing.]
John exhaled a low rumble of laughter. "So it's not just in my head."
But as the pride swelled, so did a darker thought. Growth was good. Strength was necessary. But how far had it truly taken him?
"Status," he commanded.
The familiar translucent screen unfolded in his mind.
[Status]
Name: John Davis
Race: Black Dragon (Dragon Child Rank – Tier 5 High)
Level: 49
EXP: 44,811 / 50,000
HP: 7,200 / 7,200
MP: 5,600 / 5,600
Strength: 435
Defense: 402
Agility: 375
Intelligence: 305
Perception: 366
Skills:
• Dark Flame Breath (Lv. 4)
• Predator's Instinct (Lv. 5)
• Aerial Mastery (Lv. 3)
• Scale Hardening (Lv. 4)
• Spatial Storage (Lv. 2)
• Territorial Authority – Your influence over claimed territory increases monster deterrence by 15%.
John's gaze froze on a single line.
Race: Black Dragon (Dragon Child Rank – Tier 5 High)
Dragon Child.
Even now. Even after doubling his territory, hunting countless monsters, and growing larger and stronger, the system still labeled him a child.
His lips curled back in a snarl, teeth glinting in the lake's reflection.
"Child…" he hissed, claws gouging lines into the stone beneath him.
The words were more than just a rank. They were a reminder. No matter how strong he felt now, no matter how far he thought he'd come—he was still only at the beginning. A hatchling to the world. A spark against a storm.
His tail lashed, sending a spray of stones into the water. Ripples tore through his reflection, fracturing the image of the dragon he was becoming.
For a long moment, John simply stared at the broken reflection. He thought of the dark grove. The oppressive aura. The distant roars of something far larger than him. He remembered the gouged tree trunk, claw marks that dwarfed his own.
And then he remembered the oppressive silence that now cloaked his territory.
It's not respect, he realized. It's fear.
The lesser beasts didn't avoid him because he was king. They avoided him because he was noise—violent, disruptive noise in a forest balanced by predators far above his level. If he grew too loud, too bold, eventually something would come to silence him.
The image of being crushed beneath a Tier 6 beast's claws flashed in his mind, unbidden.
John shook it away, forcing his breathing steady. No. He wasn't weak anymore. He had power. More than enough to survive—for now.
But "for now" wasn't enough.
Never enough.
The lake rippled again. John froze.
His reflection shifted.
It was no longer his face staring back at him—but something larger, monstrous. A dragon far older, far greater, with wings that blotted out the moons and eyes that glowed like endless voids. For a heartbeat, those eyes locked with his.
Then the water stilled. His own face returned.
John's chest tightened. His instincts roared, hackles raising along his spine. That hadn't been imagination. It wasn't just the reflection of his potential. Something else had been there, using the water as a veil.
"…So you're watching me," he growled.
The forest answered only with silence.
But John felt it. A gaze, distant yet piercing. The same presence that lingered in the dark grove had shifted, if only slightly. Watching. Measuring. Waiting.
The thought sent a surge of conflicting emotions through him—fear, yes, but also exhilaration. His blood burned. His claws dug deeper into the stone.
"One day," he rumbled, his voice low, dangerous. "One day, I'll drag you out of the shadows."
The system pulsed faintly.
[Warning: Detected influence of higher-tier entity.]
[Recommendation: Avoid further provocation.]
John's lips curled. "Not today. I know."
But the hunger in his chest—the dragon's instinct to dominate—didn't fade.
He turned from the lake at last, wings stretching wide. Mist scattered, rolling across the water as he leapt into the air. His body felt heavier than before, weighed down by the truth of his still-childish rank.
Yet the heaviness didn't break him. It anchored him.
He would grow. He would rise. Dragon Child or not, the world would one day bow beneath his wings.
Above the treetops, the forest spread beneath him like an endless sea. His domain stretched further than ever, but beyond it lay ridges, valleys, and the impenetrable veil of the dark grove.
His heart pounded at the sight.
The forest would not remember the weak. And John refused to be forgotten.
With a thunderous beat of his wings, he flew toward the horizon, hunger burning hotter than ever.
And behind him, deep within the black waters of the lake, ripples spread outward again—though he was no longer there to see them.
Something had stirred. Something had taken interest.
And it would not forget him.