Her memories from the day before
(Can refer to chapter 11 & 19)
The little dragon didn't know how long it had been since she stared into the void.
When she opened her eyes for the first time in this world, she saw the red dragon lying beside her. Instinctively, she knew that this massive, magnificent creature was her father.
Young dragons, those freshly hatched from their eggs, life begins with an inherent understanding of the world around them. These children, depending on their strength and the power they absorb from their surroundings, possess the mental and emotional capacity of a human child aged 5 to 8 years old. They are born with an innate awareness, a sense of who they are, and a connection to their parents, especially their powerful dragon fathers.
“Daddy?” she called out softly.
She waited, and waited some more, hoping to see those enormous eyes open, expecting him to wake from his deep slumber.
But no matter how much she called, he remained still.
And with each unanswered call, her heart sank even more.
She moved closer to his body, her tiny claws tapping against his scales.
She felt his feeble breath and the slow, almost imperceptible beat of his heart. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized this wasn’t the natural hibernation dragons underwent.
Something was wrong.
Dragons, often enter deep hibernations that can last for years, sometimes even centuries. These periods are essential for their immense power, allowing them to conserve energy and heal from any wounds they might have sustained. In their natural state, this hibernation is a peaceful, almost sacred time when their bodies slow down drastically—heartbeats become faint, and breathing is shallow but steady. Despite this slowed state, their vital signs remain consistent, a subtle yet steady rhythm that signals their deep rest and connection to the earth with a layer of mana covering their whole body acting as a shield.
What the little dragon sensed in her father was different from this natural process. His breath, though still present, was weak and irregular, barely perceptible even when she pressed close to him. His heartbeat, instead of being slow but strong, was erratic and faint, as if his life force was dwindling. This was not the deep, peaceful sleep of a dragon in hibernation. Instead, it felt as if something was draining him of his energy, a very thin, almost negligible amount of mana swirled around him, and no matter how much she called or struck him, he showed no signs of waking up. The little dragon’s instinct told her that this was not how it was supposed to be—something was wrong, and it terrified her.
Panic welled up inside her as she closed her eyes and chanted a spell under her breath, waving her little front arm. But nothing happened. She repeated the gesture several times, but every time: it failed.
Her spells were being cancelled.
“This… Ah!” she gasped, the realization dawning on her.
Her father might have cast a spell cancellation magic around the cave, likely to protect her in egg form and his vulnerable body from intruders. That was why she couldn’t even cast magic here. But now, this protective measure was a prison. She had to get out of here, to find out what was wrong with her father and to find a cure.
“I have to get out of here first. But dimensional magic?…” she murmured to herself, looking around. Apart from the spell cancellation magic, her father had also used dimensional magic. The cave was immense, more like an underground city than a cavern—thanks to the extra-dimensional space her father had created.
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The cave had several tunnels leading to different rooms. The current place seemed to be her father’s experimental room. Broken glass pieces, scattered books, and various unknown chemicals dripped from shelves. The place was a chaotic mess as if a storm had swept through.
As she explored the room, she found only books written in a language she couldn’t understand and a jar with sleeping blue pixies. Desperation began to creep in, but she pushed it aside, knowing she had to remain calm.
There had to be something here, some clue that could help her understand what had happened and how to reverse it.
What she didn't realize was, she wasn't alone.
Unbeknownst to her, sharp, keen eyes followed her every move through a tinted glass vial.
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Back to the Present
With a glum look on her face, the little dragon lay on the cavern floor. Tinker, the blue pixie, poked her cheek.
The dragon glanced at Tinker, her expression that of pure annoyance.
“What?”
“Umm…the thing is…” Tinker hesitated.
“Just say it. I won’t bite you,” the little dragon hissed.
“H-how should I address you? I mean, this insignificant thing dares to know your name, Oh! The Great Red Baby Dragon,” Tinker asked, sugar-coating her words, eyes gleaming.
“I don’t have one…” she replied, her face growing gloomier.
“Then I will address you as Miss Red Dragon,” Tinker looked somewhat embarrassed.
“Do whatever you want,” the little dragon said, unfazed.
“Oh, by the way, what’s that vial?” Tinker asked, twirling around the small, muddy vial the dragon had bumped into earlier.
“Hmm?” The little dragon held the close vial to her face, examining what was inside. And accidentally it slipped from her little paws and a radiant bright light emerged with a deafining noise.
Thud. Boom!
“Wh-what is happening?” Tinker asked, quivering and hiding behind the little dragon along with the other pixies.
Swish. Whoosh.
A black aura swirled around, making a whooshing sound. An ominous power seeped out, sending chills down their spines.
The little dragon’s skin crawled as she felt this strange power—one that repelled mana and made even a great dragon falter.
A formless entity that writhed and pulsed, its movements both mesmerizing and terrifying. The goo seemed to move with a will of its own, its dark essence radiating an aura of despair that made the little dragon's blood run cold.
It seemed to be searching, probing the air with tendrils of darkness. The little dragon’s eyes widened as the goo began to drift toward her father’s still form. Her heart pounded so loudly she thought it might burst from her chest.
'No!' she wanted to scream, but the word stuck in her throat, a silent plea that went unheard.
As the black goo reached her father, with a sudden, terrifying surge, it seeped into his body. The little dragon gasped, feeling an intense rush of emotions so powerful it took her breath away. In that brief, fleeting moment, she felt a connection to the goo, a haunting echo of her father’s essence mingling with the dark force.
She could feel his love, his strength, his desperate need to protect her, all mingled with the overwhelming sorrow and regret that had marked his final moments. It was as if she were experiencing his last thoughts, his final wish to keep her safe, even as his own strength faded.
But then, just as quickly as it had entered, the black goo was expelled, unable to maintain its form. It recoiled violently, writhing in agony before retreating farther away. For a brief moment, the goo halted, staring at the little dragon with a formless gaze that bore into her soul.
Tears streamed down her face as she whispered, “Daddy?”
The goo, almost as if it had understood, hesitated. It seemed to quiver, an indecipherable expression of its own sorrow and regret. But then, with a heart-wrenching shudder, it turned and began to drift away, leaving the cavern.
The little dragon’s voice cracked as she cried out, “Daddy, please, don’t go!”
But the goo did not stop, did not turn back. It simply vanished into the shadows, leaving her in crushing silence.
She curled up next to her father’s still form, and pressed her tiny body against his, seeking comfort in his unfamiliar warmth, and it was a cold, lifeless warmth that offered no solace.
She realized the truth: her father had abandoned her, he had left her to face the world alone.
Her tears fell onto his scales, leaving glistening trails that shimmered in the dim light of the cavern.
“Daddy...” she sobbed, “I need you. I’m scared.”