West from the human realm, there’s a long, winding road; following this road deeper and deeper leads one into a vast, boundless wilderness.

This is the territory of monsters, dotted with never-ending wastelands, undulating mountain ranges, vibrant forests, and inland lakes that stretch beyond the horizon.

A black-feathered, red-beaked falcon soared over the plains, its golden pupils fixed on the red and green-intertwined grass below, searching for prey to fill its belly before finally landing amid an unnamed mountain range.

Looking up from the foot of the mountain, near the peak of the highest summit, one could see a wide cave. Hazy smoke drifted faintly from within, and the air was thick with the pungent, acrid stench of sulfur.

Red Dragon Mother, Solaris Nestburner… lay quietly in her nest. As a young adult Red Dragon, she had laid her first clutch of eggs twenty-two months ago, and now the moment of hatching had finally arrived.

Not far in front of her was a fire pit enclosed by rocks. The unburnt charcoal inside radiated high heat, baking the four giant crimson eggs around it and maintaining the temperature consistently above 100 degrees.

Just then, one of the oval eggs suddenly wobbled. A crisp, cracking sound followed, and spiderweb-like fissures immediately surfaced. A round little head poked out… The darkness, narrowness, and the sense of constriction from all sides made the young man subconsciously struggle.

His limbs kicked the ground, and his head forcefully pushed upward. A certain barrier—not particularly strong—suddenly shattered. The surrounding pressure abruptly vanished, and his nostrils caught a whiff of a unique scent.

He opened his eyes, somewhat dazed, only for a strange environment to come into view. All around were dark brown stone walls, and before him lay a crimson “mountain.”

As his consciousness gradually cleared and he saw the true form of that “mountain,” his pupils suddenly constricted, and his heart nearly stopped from the shock.

That was no mountain; it was a scaled and horned beast.

It was over 17 meters long, with a wingspan of nearly 23 meters, its entire body covered in crimson scales that shimmered with a metallic luster. On its head grew a pair of backward-curving horns—it was a Red Dragon, something that should only appear in fantasy stories, and it was staring intently at him.

‘Where is this?’

‘Who am I?’

‘What happened?’

The three questions of life surfaced in his mind. Seeing that the Red Dragon before him seemed to be growing impatient, its charcoal-red pupils narrowed slightly, and its mouth gradually opened, revealing snow-white fangs.

As the atmosphere gradually grew tense, a strong impulse surged from his heart, and he immediately shouted aloud:

“Thor Heliozog Ethermog Suncrier Throat-Burner…”

As the hatchling dragon shouted his true name, the man instantly felt the originally heavy atmosphere ease. The ferocious Red Dragon ahead lazily lay back down once more.

Only then did he realize that he had been reincarnated—reincarnated as a Red Dragon hatchling—and the Red Dragon ahead was the mother of this body.

However, this discovery did not bring him the slightest peace of mind.

Anyone familiar with DND knows that as the most powerful and most cruel of the Five-Colored Dragons, Red Dragons have never known familial affection. If not for the fact that abandoning their eggs would lead to punishment from Tiamat, more than 90% of Red Dragons would likely choose to ignore the eggs they lay.

This situation is naturally the same for the other Five-Colored Dragons, to the point that the survival rate of the hatchlings of Five-Colored Dragons’ eggs is far lower than that of Metallic Dragons.

Even if their eggs successfully hatch, they will not take care of their offspring seriously, often just doing the bare minimum before driving them out of their nest.

This results in an extremely low survival rate for Five-Colored Dragon hatchlings. Blue Dragons reach about 50%, while Green, White, and Black Dragons are around 40%. Shockingly, the survival rate for Red Dragon hatchlings is even lower, at less than 30%.

Recalling this information from his past life’s DND knowledge, the young man shuddered and became even more cautious.

Dragging his body, which was covered in wet mucus, Thor crawled out of the eggshell and began to turn his head to inspect his body.

He was about a meter long, roughly the size of a pony, with a large head and a short neck. His body was covered in a layer of tender red scales, and two limp, fleshy wings lay on his back.

Even for a creature like a True Dragon, which sits at the top of the food chain, they are still quite weak at birth. Their claws are not sharp enough, and their scales have not yet hardened. The only thing with any killing potential is likely their mouthful of fangs.

What is the first thing a newborn hatchling should do?

Recalling the nature documentaries from his past life, Sol realized he should first lick the mucus off his body.

This was something that should have been done by the mother, but given the personality of a Red Dragon, there was no need to even think about it. He could only twist his flexible neck and slowly lick off the mucous on his body.

Once his body was mostly dry, he turned his attention to the broken eggshells on the ground and began munching on them.

These eggshells serve both as a protective layer for True Dragons before hatching and as their first meal after hatching. They are not only rich in energy but also contain various precious substances and trace elements.

They can activate the hatchling’s body, providing the energy needed for initial growth and development, allowing its scales and claws to harden rapidly.

Perhaps because his sense of taste had changed, the eggshells he thought would be disgusting actually felt exceptionally delicious in Thor’s mouth.

Unwittingly, the fragments of eggshell scattered on the ground had all entered his stomach. Feeling a growing sleepiness, he did not succumb to slumber but instead turned to stare at his brothers, who had not yet hatched.

The remaining three dragon eggs had begun to shake, and amidst crisp cracking sounds, dense fissures appeared.

Dragging his bulging little belly, he tiptoed over, picked up one of the fallen fragments, and stuffed it directly into his mouth.

Soon, the remaining three hatchlings also broke through their shells one after another. Two of them successfully shouted their long, tongue-twisting True Names, while the last one remained silent.

The red dragon mother’s eyes narrowed dangerously; she hadn’t expected a lowly Dragon Beast to appear in her very first clutch.

She did not hesitate, extending her massive claw to snatch the newborn Hatchling Dragon and turning to leave the nest.

The three remaining Hatchling Dragons watched this scene with trembling hearts, not daring to move an inch.

When two of them were awakened by the hunger in their bellies and began to eat their eggshells according to the prompts in their Dragon Inheritance, they discovered that an unknown amount of their eggshells had somehow gone missing.

This instantly enraged the two Hatchling Dragons, who turned to look at the nearby “thief.”

Thor, with a piece of eggshell still pinched in his claw, showed no embarrassment at being caught red-handed. He swaggered as he stuffed the shell into his mouth and then let out a defiant burp.

For he knew well that Red Dragons were powerful, violent, conceited, and unruly… among their many personality traits, there was no such thing as familial affection.

From birth, hatchlings of the same clutch are already competitors. There is no sentiment to speak of; naturally, one must strike first to gain the upper hand.