The system spoke to me again that morning, just as I was enjoying my breakfast—a half-dead fish.
[Biological Update]
Species: Young Ludroth (male)
Age: 2 weeks and 1 day
Size: 2.0 m
Status: Stable / Accelerated growth
Note: Current size exceeds average juvenile measurements.
Cause: Reincarnation — body adapted to maximum biological potential.
In short: I'm a giant baby.
Two meters of slippery, slimy confidence, coated in pride and a faint sense of evolutionary superiority.
The other hatchlings look at me with what can only be described as slimy admiration.
And while I'd love to think they respect me for my charisma, the truth is they probably just think I'm too big to bite without breaking their teeth.
"Perfect. Respect through sheer mass statistics."
The pack kept to its usual routine.
Five adult Ludroths, including my mother—who had already mastered the mystical ability of knowing exactly when I was about to do something stupid.
And of course, the Royal Ludroth: my father.
A golden mountain of muscle, wet mane, and a general attitude of "I am the law of this swamp."
Our territory stretched across a muddy strip near the sea.
We didn't live underwater, but rather in a humid area where fresh and salt water mixed.
The air buzzed with insects, the ground was a sticky trap, and every step sounded like someone crushing pudding.
Beautiful.
I spent most of my time with the other hatchlings, learning how to catch small fish and move on land without looking like a noodle in crisis.
My mother, patient as a saint, would nudge me with her snout whenever I tripped or wandered too far.
Sometimes she'd even toss me a dead fish as a reward.
Nothing says "good job, son" like getting smacked in the face with a corpse of trout.
But not everything was as peaceful as it looked.
The swamp, no matter how calm it seemed, was full of predators.
Some hunted fish.
Others hunted… bigger things.
And us? Well, we were still a few meters and a lot of experience short of being off the menu.
That day, the air felt different.
Heavy.
The water smelled strange, as if something rotten had mixed with the mud.
My mother was the first to react—raising her head, mane dripping, staring toward the river.
The other females tensed too, letting out a low, deep hum… a silent warning.
I didn't understand what was happening.
The hatchlings kept playing, but the air felt… thicker.
The system confirmed it seconds later:
[Warning]
Unknown entity detected
Threat level: Moderate
Location: Northern sector, near territorial boundary.
"Moderate. Oh, great. I'm sure it's something tiny… like a pocket dragon or a steroid snake."
My mother growled—not in anger, but in warning.
She pushed us with her head toward a patch of dense mud where we could hide beneath roots and rocks.
The other females moved in the opposite direction.
They were going to intercept whatever was coming.
But I… I stayed to watch.
Curiosity, stupidity, or both.
Something in me had to see.
So, when my mother turned away, I crawled between the roots and peeked out.
The river stirred.
Small waves slapped against the bank.
And through them, a long, spear-shaped shadow moved in zigzags.
Not a Ludroth.
Not a big fish.
Thinner, sharper, hungrier.
When it broke the surface, my human memory helped me name it:
Wroggi.
A small wyvern—carnivorous, reddish, and dripping with venom.
Hunters saw them as pests, but to a newborn like me, it was basically a scaly serial killer.
The Wroggi turned its head.
Its eyes locked on me.
And it smiled.
Or at least, it looked like it did.
"Wonderful. I'm lunch."
I tried to back away, but my tail hit a rock, making a loud clack.
The wyvern hissed and dove into the water with a violent splash.
Instinct kicked in.
I ran.
Well… aggressively slid in the opposite direction.
The water slowed me down.
Every step was a desperate attempt not to faceplant into the mud.
The Wroggi closed in fast, its body slicing through the water like an arrow.
I could hear it—its breathing, the slosh of water, the hiss of venom.
And just as I turned to look—something slammed into me from the side.
My mother.
She crashed into the Wroggi with such force the sound echoed through the swamp.
The wyvern shrieked, biting wildly, but she was faster.
With a single sweep of her tail, she struck it and hurled it against a rock.
It tried to rise, but she didn't give it the chance—her body pinned it down, pressing it into the mud until it stopped moving.
It was over in seconds.
I was frozen.
Half-covered in mud, trembling, my heart racing so fast I expected the system to pop up with "Reboot imminent."
My mother turned toward me.
Her gaze wasn't angry.
It was firm.
And somehow… disappointed.
"Yes, I know, Mom. I did something stupid. You can kill me now if you want."
She approached slowly, dipped her snout into the water, and nudged me upright.
Then she just stood there, watching me, while the Wroggi's body drifted downstream.
The system broke the silence:
[Environmental Update]
Threat neutralized.
Status: Mild stress / No major injuries.
Recommendation: Avoid leaving the group unsupervised.
"Thanks, system. Really helpful advice after nearly being poisoned to death."
My mother nudged me again—harder this time—back toward the safe area where the other hatchlings huddled.
She stayed there for a moment, watching, before returning to her post beside the other Ludroth.
No need to roar. No need to scold.
Her message was clear: learn.
That night, while the pack rested, I couldn't sleep.
The swamp water felt colder than usual.
I glanced at my mother's sleeping form, her massive body dimly lit by the moonlight.
She breathed slowly, peacefully.
And I thought about how fragile I still was.
How close I'd been to dying.
I didn't want to feel that again.
Helpless.
Small.
Afraid.
As sleep finally dragged me under, I buried my head in the warm mud and, for the first time since waking up in this world, I didn't dream of being eaten.
I dreamed of a future where I wouldn't have to be.