"Where is your magic?"
At this, I looked at Winters with a completely blank expression.
"Magic? What magic?"
Observing my innocent and bewildered countenance, Winters was, for a moment, at a loss for words.
There is no doubt that true Dragons are magical creatures.
Even she, a Quinquecolored Dragon most proficient in melee combat, was fundamentally a magical being.
Among the Draconic Clans, only certain species of Terrestrial Dragons were not classified as magical creatures.
Could it be that this wyrmling was not a purebred Argent Dragon?
Contemplating this, Winters brought her head close to her claws and, while meticulously examining me, employed her Inner Focus to probe my very being.
However, after a moment, Winters' bewilderment only deepened.
All the detailed features upon my form unequivocally declared me an Argent Dragon of the purest lineage.
Yet, both my muscular strength and the exceedingly faint elemental reaction indicated that I should be a Terrestrial Dragon type, excelling in physical prowess and possessing no magical talent.
Was it because the Dragon Blood of the Argent Dragon was more concentrated within me?
But that, too, was incongruous.
Argent Dragons are the Metallic Dragons with the most exceptional magical aptitude; this is evident from their more slender physique compared to other Metallic Dragons.
Moreover, Argent Dragons are the sole members of the five Metallic Dragon clans that possess a natural affinity for water elements yet can command magic of other attributes; the other four Metallic Dragons are restricted to magic corresponding to their inherent elemental affinity.
If my Argent Dragon blood were highly concentrated, then my reaction to the elements would not be nearly non-existent as it currently was, including the Argent Dragon's characteristic hydro-elemental affinity.
However, if the Terrestrial Dragon species blood within my body were highly concentrated, then the wings upon my back should have degenerated, or perhaps not even developed at all, for Terrestrial Dragons do not grow wings.
Why was this so?
Just as Winters stared at me, constantly pondering and attempting to find a rational explanation, my own heart began to pound uncontrollably as the duration of her contemplation lengthened.
Of course, my current anxieties were not centered on my physical condition.
Although the matter of my body was significant, the paramount concern, indeed, should be placed upon survival.
A wyrmling that differs from the others is tantamount to a unique experimental subject.
Speaking of these worlds, could there be those exceedingly cruel experiments termed 'biochemical experiments'?
Furthermore, even if I did not end up as experimental material, would a dragon incapable of wielding magic truly be accepted by this conclave of magic-wielding dragons?
Yet, I had surreptitiously tested it several times; I truly could not perceive that power called magic.
Speaking of which, was the magic here analogous to the magic in those online novels?
If it were the same, did that signify I would be unable to attain that dazzling and potent force in the future?
Contemplating it thus, it was inexplicably regrettable.
No!
Confound it, now was not the time to be preoccupied with such thoughts!
Winters, who was pondering to which category I belonged, inadvertently glanced at my constantly shifting expression and couldn't help but be stunned.
Observing the ceaseless changes in my countenance—sometimes suffused with gloom, sometimes brimming with hope, sometimes etched with despair, and so on—was this truly something a wyrmling, newly born, could manifest?
Winters suddenly felt she ought to have a thorough discourse with this fledgling named Vet.
But before that... "Vet! Can you grant me a droplet of your blood?"
On my side, my imagination, having slipped as if upon a banana peel, was contemplating whether the legendary world of the deceased existed.
I finally realized, upon hearing this sentence, that I had not yet been slain.
However, if she desired a drop of blood... I looked at my claws, er... I couldn't bring myself to do it.
Then, my gaze searched my body for a protracted period, finally settling upon the tail at my rear that paid scant heed to my commands.
A few more minutes later, as Winters was growing somewhat impatient, I finally gritted my teeth and gently scratched the tip of my tail with my claw, then squeezed out a drop, ah... a mere filament of blood, and then looked at Winters expectantly.
Winters stared at me quietly.
Was this creature truly a Dragon?
Thinking this in her heart, Winters used her Inner Focus to control the blood (a silken thread, truly), which was utterly imperceptible to her, and guided it into her maw.
Very well, I can barely analyze it.
After a moment, Winters' colossal draconic eyes, pupils contracting suddenly, then looked at me with a bewildered expression.
This pain-averse creature was actually a purebred Dragon, and its bloodline was even purer than her own!
But strangely, she could not discern the race of this bloodline at all.
Could there truly be a Celestial Dragon of the Starry Expanse?
How was that conceivable!
Shaking her head, she dislodged this absurd notion from her mind.
Then, her gaze fell upon me again.
After a moment's hesitation, she asked, "Little one, in your inherited memories, are there any images of your sire or dam?"
Hearing this, I was about to say no, but at that precise moment, two figures materialized in the depths of my mind.
One was a silver-white Dragon, an exact likeness of myself, but its magnitude was unimaginably vast.
The very stars were like marbles within her draconic claw—yes, like those vitreous, spherical objects.
The other figure was considerably smaller, only about ten metres in height, and entirely crimson.
It bore some resemblance to Winters in general form, but its body was adorned with golden, magma-like patterns.
Though its frame was small, I sensed an aura upon him far more potent than that of the Silver Dragon; that aura made the very starry sky tremble.
Looking at these two figures and feeling the gentle gazes they cast, I felt an overwhelming urge to weep.
Were these my parents?
Returning to my senses, I realized that tears were streaming from the corners of my eyes without my conscious volition.
Winters looked at me stubbornly wiping away my tears, a hint of pity flashing in her eyes.
"It matters not if you cannot recall, and, as a Dragon, weeping and sniveling is somewhat unbecoming of your station!"
I shook my head.
"No, in my inherited memories, I possess their likeness.
My dam looks just like me!"
Hearing this, Winters' eyes lit up.
"Most likely an Argent Dragon!"
As for why it was 'most likely,' one merely had to look at the wyrmling before her—it was definitively not a typical Argent Dragon.
"My sire... bears a strong resemblance to you!"
Winters was stunned for a moment.
"A Red Dragon? No, you said 'a strong resemblance'?"
I nodded.
"Indeed, very similar, but my sire has magma-like golden patterns upon his body, particularly upon his chest!"
I stopped there.
I did not intend to mention the aspect of their size; even though I lacked a proper bloodline inheritance, I could still discern that my parents' dimensions were not those of ordinary Dragons.
Hearing my words, a hint of surprise flashed in Winters' eyes.
"An Aberrant Dragon!"