I learned quickly that hunger was not my greatest enemy.
Humans were.
I sensed them before I saw them—sharp, irregular mana signatures cutting through the wasteland. Organized. Focused. Not monsters.
Hunters.
I crouched behind the broken remains of a stone wall, suppressing my presence the way instinct demanded. My heart—my dragon core—slowed its rotation. Every scale tightened.
There were five of them.
Leather armor reinforced with metal plates. Spears etched with runes. One carried a staff, its crystal tip glowing faintly. A mage.
They moved with confidence.
Which meant they had killed dragons before.
"Tracks are fresh," one of them said. "Small. Injured."
A woman's voice. Calm. Professional.
My claws dug into the dirt.
So that's what I am to them.
Prey.
The mage crouched, touching the ground. "Residual mana confirms it. A newborn or a failed spawn."
Failed.
The word burned more than any wound.
"We take it alive if possible," another said. "Weak dragons sell better."
Sell?
My thoughts fractured. Dragons were not legends here. Not sacred beings. We were resources.
Suddenly, the dragon core pulsed violently.
Danger.
I moved.
The ground exploded where I had been hiding as a spear slammed down, runes flaring blue. I sprinted without thinking, weaving through ruins as shouts erupted behind me.
"It's fast!"
"Cut it off!"
I felt mana surge as spells ignited. A bolt of compressed wind grazed my side, ripping scales free. Pain screamed through my nerves, but my body didn't stop.
Run. Survive. Learn.
I burst into a collapsed plaza and leapt onto a fallen pillar. My wings—still too weak for flight—spread instinctively, stabilizing my landing.
They surrounded me.
Five against one.
The mage raised her staff. "Don't kill it. Break its legs."
Something snapped inside me.
Not fear.
Rage.
I was not born in this world to be chained.
I inhaled.
The air burned.
For the first time, I consciously felt it—mana flooding my lungs, condensing, turning volatile.
Fire.
A weak, unstable flame burst from my mouth, more smoke than blaze, but it forced them back.
"What—?! It can breathe fire already?!"
I didn't wait.
I lunged.
My claws tore through flesh, blood spraying hot against my snout. The scream cut off abruptly. One down.
The others reacted instantly.
The woman with the calm voice moved first, slashing with a short blade aimed at my neck. I twisted, feeling steel scrape scales.
Too close.
A shock spell detonated against my chest.
Agony.
My body convulsed as lightning coursed through me, muscles locking, vision blurring. I crashed to the ground, unable to move.
"So fragile," the mage muttered. "Bind it—"
No.
I refused.
The dragon core spun faster, faster—painfully so. Something tore open inside my mind.
Another image.
The altar.
Chains.
A human hand pressing down on a dragon's head.
Rage flooded everything.
My body moved on instinct alone. I slammed my tail into the mage, snapping bone. I surged to my feet and roared—not loud, but dense, heavy with pressure.
They froze.
For a split second, they didn't see a weak dragon.
They saw something ancient.
Something wrong.
The woman staggered back. "It's… glaring at us."
Good.
I charged her.
She fought well. Too well for a simple hunter. Every strike was precise, controlled, aimed to disable. But she hesitated.
And hesitation meant death.
My jaws closed around her arm.
I felt bone crack.
She screamed, dropping her blade.
I hesitated.
Just for a moment.
She was human.
So was I—once.
That moment nearly killed me.
A spear pierced my side, pinning me to the ground. Pain exploded anew. I roared, tearing myself free as blood poured from the wound.
No more mercy.
I ended it quickly.
When silence returned, I collapsed among the ruins, chest heaving, body shaking uncontrollably.
I had won.
Barely.
The dragon core slowed, glowing faintly brighter than before.
New information surfaced.
[Trait Acquired: Predatory Awareness]
[Minor Evolution Progress: 3%]
So killing humans counted too.
I looked at the bodies.
I didn't feel triumph.
I felt clarity.
This world did not care about who I used to be.
And I would not survive by clinging to human morals.
As the wind carried the scent of blood across the wasteland, I made a vow.
I would grow stronger.
Strong enough that hunters would think twice before drawing their blades.
Strong enough that dragons would bow—or burn.
I was not a hero.
And this world would learn why.
---