Translator: AnubisTL
The young red dragon's life grade was lower than White Dragon Treacy's.
However, their battle had already proven that a red dragon could defeat a white dragon even when fighting above its grade.
Seeing Samantha, a fellow red dragon, speak up, Cahill blinked, hoping to see the red dragon teach Treacy a lesson.
But the result disappointed her.
The white dragon's nerves instantly tightened, and she transitioned into a groveling posture with breathtaking fluidity:
"Respected Red Dragon Queen, please forgive my inconsiderate rhetoric."
Treacy even proactively exposed the most vulnerable scales on the side of her neck and continued: "You are, of course, a completely different kind of being from those inflexible hatchlings."
Samantha was so choked by this utterly spineless grovel that her dragon breath momentarily stalled.
How boring. She felt as if she had swung at thin air and irritably smashed a rock with her tail:
"Watch your mouth!"
The white dragon nodded obediently, refusing to argue with a high-level being. She was ready to accept whatever beating or scolding followed.
The next second, she raised her head and puffed out her chest, looking at the little dragons.
"Now, what should you call me?"
The white dragon stared coldly at Cahill. "You go first."
The young red dragon's muscles trembled violently as the pride of her inherited memories clashed fiercely with the excruciating pain of reality.
She wanted to roar, to bare her fangs, to belittle the white dragon.
But recalling the white dragon's earlier words and seeing her own submissive posture before the even stronger red dragon, she ultimately forced herself to endure.
This White Scale has a point...
Let her be arrogant for now. Once I grow stronger, I'll get my revenge!
Cahill seethed internally as she slowly lowered her head, staring at the bloodstains she'd coughed onto the snow. She forced four words through gritted teeth: "Pale Wing."
Her tone still carried a hint of reluctance.
But there's plenty of time for training in the future.
The white dragon nodded in satisfaction and then looked at the other little dragons.
The blue, black, and green dragons, pondering Treacy's thought-provoking words and seeing Cahill's example, fell silent for a few seconds before each addressing the white dragon as Pale Wing.
"You," she commanded, "come here and lick my claws."
The white dragon found Cahill too defiant. Coupled with her own innate dislike for red dragons, she decided to press her advantage.
"What did you say?!"
The red dragon, Cahill, roared in fury.
The submission she had just shown was her absolute limit. Such an humiliation was something she would rather die than accept.
"Enough, Treacy. That's enough," the red-iron dragon intervened at the perfect moment.
Too much of a good thing could be counterproductive. Education should be gradual.
The white dragon immediately nodded in deference. "Thank the great Ironforged Lord," she said to the little dragons. "His mercy has spared you from even greater humiliation."
And with that, the first lesson for the stranger little dragons in the Frontierlands concluded.
Meanwhile, a biting cold wind swept across the cliffs of Dragon Valley, whistling through the countless natural caves on the western cliffside.
Garos's dragon wing cast a long, narrow shadow in the daylight as he raised his front claw and pointed to the perforated rock wall.
"The caves on the west side are for you to dwell in. Choose whichever one you like."
The western cliff of Dragon Valley was the colony of the wyverns. Over the years, they had carved it into a complex, multi-layered network of nests.
For these little dragons, scarred and wounded, any cave would be large enough to hold their still-growing bodies. Meanwhile, the Burning Steel Citadel—a fortress on the eastern cliff's summit that looked as if it were forged from molten metal—silently overlooked the entire valley.
Having received permission, the little dragons took flight, their bodies heavy with exhaustion.
Though every beat of their wings sent a sharp sting through their injuries, the innate territorial instincts of dragonkind drove them to carefully inspect each potential nest.
Heliam, the young blue dragon, acted first.
As he spiraled upward, he deliberately limited his wingspan, avoiding any display of arrogance or excessive visibility.
Ultimately, he chose a cave in the upper-middle section.
This height was neither an offense to the powerful wyverns above nor too close to the young dragons below.
The hierarchy between the strong and the weak was also a form of order.
The blue dragon did not mind being subordinate to the wyverns.
Cahill, the red dragon, first charged provocatively toward the highest empty cave, but just as she was about to reach its entrance, she dove sharply and landed before a cave at the same level as Heliam's.
The green and black dragons made the wiser choice.
The two young dragons didn't even attempt to explore the upper levels, descending directly to the two adjacent caves on the bottom floor.
The green dragon even took care to measure the distance between the two cave entrances with the tip of its tail, ensuring that its chosen nest wouldn't be larger than the black dragon's and avoid any direct conflict.
"Treacy."
The red-iron dragon's voice instantly made the white dragon, who had been gloating, stiffen her tail.
"You've done well. Continue this way, and I will reward you handsomely."
His praise made the white dragon's tail perk up.
However, just as she was about to float away with joy, the red-iron dragon's next words brought her crashing back to earth.
"I will allow you to discipline these little dragons within certain limits."
"But you must maintain a proper balance."
"If any problems arise due to your mistakes, I will strip you of all your rewards and send you back to guard the Abyssal Rift."
The white dragon immediately lowered her head in the most solemn posture.
"I promise to exercise proper restraint!" she declared.
Having already tasted the pleasure of being among the little dragons, how could she bear to leave and deal with demons again? From now on, she would try to be more restrained when educating the little dragons, as long as she didn't go too far.
"By the way."
The red-iron dragon paused for a few seconds, then spoke slowly, "Your Niche Theory is quite good. You can teach it to these little dragons."
He considered it seriously and decided that the white dragon's theory truly had inheritance value.
Especially for evil dragons, if they could learn and understand this theory, it would—at the very least—help them avoid provoking monsters stronger than themselves. By restraining the arrogance inherent in dragonkind, their survival rate would undoubtedly increase significantly.
While not tailor-made for dragonkind, this theory was still a very good fit.
For other creatures with limited innate talent and lifespan, they might be forced to remain lower-level beings their entire lives. Such a miserable, hopeless existence would be worse than death.
But dragons were different.
As long as a dragon didn't die young, it was destined to become legendary, destined to become a high-level being.
With this foundation, dragons should be quite receptive to the Niche Theory. They knew all too well that they would eventually ascend to a higher niche; enduring humiliation now was simply a means to a better future.
"The greatest tragedy of being born an evil dragon is that we rarely live long enough to realize our full potential."
The red-iron dragon's voice echoed through the valley. He glanced at the little dragons peeking from the cave entrance and said, "Your theory could teach them how to survive long enough to become true dragons."
Hearing this, the white dragon's excitement was no less than when she had successfully ambushed her first merchant caravan.
She suddenly realized she was making history.
Perhaps.
A thousand years from now, the dragon race's inheritance would record:
The Founder, Architect, and Proponent of Niche Theory—The Great Pale Wing Treacy.
The mere thought made the blood vessels beneath her scales thrum, her breathing heavy.
"I will be infinitely patient with this!"
Treacy's wings trembled slightly with excitement. "We'll start with the basics of discerning strength, then gradually explain the techniques of disguised niche-lowering, and finally—"
Garos raised a front claw, cutting off her torrent of plans.
"You handle the specifics."
"Just remember: I want them to survive so they can pledge their loyalty to Dragon Valley."
Went to the hospital today, so this chapter is a bit short. I'll try to make up for it tomorrow.
(End of the Chapter)
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