Author's Note: Hello there! I hope you will enjoy reading this story.

Comments, thoughts, and inputs are welcome.

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Chapter 1: Goblins and Death

Truth be told, my guest, I didn't always have this streak about me. And no, I do not mean the kind of streak where you have a flattering distinctive mark. I mean the kind of streak that would allow you to eat someone...or something. Yes, that kind; an angry streak.

I will then tell you that I am an Astlan dragon of the older generation.

Surprised? You should be; after all, most dragons are not very communicative and, for the most part, intelligent creatures, especially in the lands around here. They are creatures of might, instinct, magic, and gluttony if you care to listen to those callous human gossips. And trust me when I say the rumor that dragons are gold-hoarding snobs is untrue, although we do like a little sparkle from time to time. Still, there are exceptions to everything and I am an exception, although my case is a little unique, to say the least.

That is to say, before I was reincarnated into a dragon, I was a human. Strange as it may seem, I retained all my memories of my time as a human and any intelligence I had garnered as one. There are many different classes of dragons, and distinctions between dragons, but that is a matter best saved for later.

So on to the reason for my mean streak.

It is quite simple actually. The years of fighting other baby wyrms, fully grown dragons, and many other various, ranging circumstances has contributed to my mean, impatient streak.

Well, that is enough of my complaints. I shall now tell you the very beginning of my story as a human and the lesson you should learn from the end; let not suffer fools or gossips.

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When I was a human, I used to be called Alan Mead, but, of course now, I go by an entirely different name in a different tongue—a leathery tongue.

I was the son of a fairly well-off merchant in a fairly well-off town. The names are not important, at least, not anymore. The fateful day when the Lady decided to welcome me into her embrace was on a hot and humid day. And as you have inferred, no doubt by now, I do not mean the warm loving embrace of a spouse or lover, I mean death with its feminine skeletal frame in all its glory. It just gets stale to not imagine death as a cold lover when you have met death as many times as I have.

Still, in my human life, I only met the Lady thrice in close proximity. The first time was my mother's death. The second time was a slave I had met. And the third time was my own death. I guess my luck had expired or as the saying goes: third time is the charm.

With the sun burning brightly overhead, the incident of my death occurred. Our caravan had been moving at a slow crawl on the forest roads and we were steadily progressing toward our destination, one of the larger cities reveling in trade. And just when the front caravan notified us—we were in the middle—with a yell that the clearing had been spotted up ahead, we were attacked.

No one was prepared. Not the guards, the two horses defecating, the couple interchanging spit and kisses inside one of the finer caravans, or the merchant who went to relieve himself at the side of the forest road near me. Not even me.

Trust me, I am a very observant person.

It was unfortunate. If we had been attacked at that clearing where only a little more stretch of road was required to arrive at our destination, instead of at the forest roads, we could have had a better survival chance. But here though, the chances were low enough to be almost impossible.

The first sign of attack our chain of caravans received was when the merchant fell down mid-piss, a sleek, black arrow lodged firmly through the side of his head. Blood mixed with his puddle of piss as he fell to the ground with a thud. I and others alike, no doubt, blankly stared at the merchant, incomprehending what had just happened. Then everything came alive.

Black skinned elves with patterns of tattoo burst through the woods from the left along with green goblins using dire wolves as mounts from the right. I had to laugh at my and the others' misfortunes. What were the chances of elves and goblin marauders attacking our and others' caravans at the same time? The only sure thing other than our imminent deaths was that the piss puddle made by the merchant would no longer spread. His blood had covered all of it and now pooled around his corpse.

I would have liked to say that I went down fighting and the price of my life was costly, but really all I managed was to step on an oversized green pinkie toe of a goblin and kick his groin. Perhaps if that goblin was the leader and howled a bit louder while doing the strange dances that always accompanied those types of pain, I would have maintained a semblance of dignity before the iron-tipped arrow shot by one of the goblins pierced my skull and I died.

Goes to show that one should never trust hearsay. Goblins are not shitty archers.

No need for your pity though; I died instantly and painlessly as darkness overwhelmed me, but not before I heard a soft, seductive, and incredibly ancient voice, feminine in its nature, giggling.

Chapter 2: Consciousness

I woke up with a sharp screech and as I opened my eyes, the first thing I realized was that I felt very cramped inside this dark area. The thoughts of my own death and others' came back to me. How I was alive, I did not know nor cared to guess. There would be a reckoning later, but for now my present situation and need was more pressing.

Hard, yet perhaps breakable if pushed a little. Those were my thoughts about the walls surrounding me. I don't know where these thoughts stemmed from but I had an itching urge to push against the walls.

Against this irresistible urge, what could I do but follow it, so I pushed for all my worth. The result was unsatisfying, to say the least. There was not even a dent or a sign that I had marred it. An image of a green goblin shooting a bow flashed through my mind.

Anger, strangely cold in its nature, coursed through me like fire in my veins and I pushed again. This time, the results were satisfactory as I was rewarded with the sight of a little jagged crack. I pummeled my head at that crack and was rewarded further when daylight burst through.

I stuck my head through the hole and a cursory glance of my surroundings jolted me. A lightning bolt of surprise, really. There were ugly little baby dragons of various colors rearing their heads from their own respective shells. Like me, they were checking out their surroundings until their eyes rested on a sight behind me. All of the wyrms were staring intently at something behind me.

A loud snort informed me that I should turn around and check that something behind me. Turning around, the sight of a huge emerald dragon filled my eyes. Being suddenly confronted with a creature that was a thousand times your size, what could I do but drop my jaws?

Seeing this, the emerald dragon threw a slab of bloody meat toward my wide-opened mouth. I would have applauded at that perfect throw, really, if my mouth was not suddenly filled with the bloody, metallic tang of blood, blood, blood. Delicious, delicious blood.

I did not realize my ravenous hunger until that slab of meat was in my mouth with its delicious metallic, bloody tang. I was disgusted and enticed at the same time. These conflicted feelings made me unable to spit out the meat or eat it.

A sudden thought forced me to look down at my body and I saw soft, black scales on my stomach. A revelation hit me like a donkey's kick and a galloping horse. Even if the donkey and horse had hit me at the same time, the jolt would still not have been enough to describe my feelings.

I had been reincarnated into a black wyrm, a hideous baby dragon.

Having realized the fact that I was a twenty year old human male in the body of a wyrm, what could I do but lose all semblance of my dignity once more?

I fainted...with the body of a jet-black wyrm if that was even possible.

Chapter 3: Flying Off Cliffs

When I opened my eyes again, I found myself freed of the shell I was stuck in. I also found myself faced toward the emerald mother dragon along with my siblings. It was easy to realize this when I accepted the fact that I had been reincarnated as a black wyrm.

The slab of bloody meat was also no longer in my mouth and I felt a little regretful at the waste. It was either that or my hunger talking.

Our mother dragon called us to attention with a loud snort and we faced her, not daring to disobey and feeling intimidated by her size. She told us she was going to name us.

Greenie. Scarlet. Blue. Yellow. She named us after the colors of our scales. And when it was finally my turn, she dubbed me Blackie in our reptilian tongue. What could I say, my mother was a simple creature of brawn and magic. And I suppose the name fitted me. I was, after all, the black sheep, or rather, the black wyrm of the family.

Suprisingly enough, wyrms have a wide vocal range, leaning a little bit on the deeper side as I would find out soon enough.

Our mother led us into a large cave where she had stockpiled deers and other denizens of the forest. An array of various quarry, including sheep, was inside. I figured the sheep was stolen from unsuspecting farmers, but I was a little doubtful of that fact, not oblivious to her obvious humongous size. And who knows, perhaps mother had some abilities in domesticating food.

When I and my brethren siblings had gorged ourselves on the meat, we went to sleep. Believe me when I say it is quite tiring to chew through pounds and pounds of bloody meat and muscle tendons. It was especially hard for a ravenous wyrm who was once human.

Unlike my other siblings who were quite sure of what they were, I elected not to sleep yet. Instead, I chose to thoroughly explore myself, urged on by my human and draconian curiosity. Quite amusing really. Thus, on the day I was born, I was thoroughly exploring myself before sleep finally overtook me.

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Two weeks swiftly flew by, literally and metaphorically. I was now flying alone in the skies. It was quite exhilarating if it wasn't for the fact of the horrible first two weeks of my wyrm period. I shuddered a little, remembering those fourteen days of training.

The second day was the second worst out of those fourteen days. Our mother dragon had led us wyrms to a series of high cliffs and when she was finally satisfied with one of their heights, I looked down and could barely make out the bottom even with my enhanced eyes.

“Jump,” she said. It was a simple command, really, if it wasn't for the little fact that none of us could fly. I do not know what mother expected out of us mere two-day old baby wyrms. I also looked at my seemingly frail and short wings, wondering if they could even carry me.

No thank you, mother. I would not be the first one of our clutch to die today, err, that is to jump off the cliff. Sorry to betray your hopes, but I am a very practical human...or wyrm. It was still taking a while to sink in that I was a different being.

When our mother saw that none of us were making a move toward the impossibly high cliff, she spat out another sentence. “Jump or I push.”

Four words in what seemed like six hours of silence since early morning. I was impressed, if it wasn't for the simple command that she was ordering us to our deaths.

She let out an annoyed growl when she saw that none of us were still moving from our safe spot, which was fifteen feet away from the bluff. I didn't consider it that safe though, since my safe spot would have been a mile away.

Another annoyed growl was let out before one of us finally gained the courage to follow out her death sentence. It was Greenie, judging from the color of her scales. You ask the reason why I knew she was a female? It was easy, really. Female wyrms, just like a full grown female dragon like our mother, had a small, third horn.

I would have applauded her bravery if I was not sure that the extreme dive down from the cliff would have absolutely, certainly kill her. I could already imagine her hitting the ground at an impossible speed and splattering herself stone-dead, tiny bits of wyrm pieces and scales scattered all over.

Were she human, she would have had the biggest metaphorical balls I would ever have the pleasure of knowing. She put us other four male wyrms to shame and made us feel small, not that we have the literal anatomical part I had just described. Trust me, I had explored myself very thoroughly and the other sleeping wyrms to an extent last night. It was that exploration and the obvious three horns on the huge emerald dragon and the fact that I could not imagine fate would be so cruel as to reincarnate a once human male into the body of a female dragon that helped me reached my conclusion.

Looking at Greenie, assumptions swirled in my mind. Perhaps, I thought to myself, the third horn of female dragons signified something. That they were more daring or even crueler, I wondered, looking toward the annoyed mother dragon. It was a food for thought, but let us leave that aside for the moment.

Annoyed that Greenie had shown she was the bravest, my other three brother wyrms followed her. I, however, chose to remain at my spot. There was no way I was going to die today. I was determined to live, having been taken out of my first life so abruptly and so young.

Mother glared at me and I avoided her eyes by looking down at the suddenly interesting ground. She snorted as if telling me that she would deal with me later after she had dealt with the other four. I saved some shred of my dignity by telling myself that the hero always arrived last. Yes, just like in those picture books I had read as a child.

Greenie was the first one to jump and I bet that she was also the first one to get out of her shell. Soon, all of my brothers followed after her. It was quite an amusing thing, really, seeing dragon whelps jump. It would have been a comical sight too if I was not in the same situation.

I paused momentarily, trying to merge myself with the ground, but a sharp glare forced me to get a move on. As I edged closer to the cliff, I was rewarded with the sight of the ground, if you could call air, ground that is. I took a calming breath while toying between two life-changing decisions. One look at my mother's intimidating size though forced me to choose the safer decision.

Thus I jumped.

Like a heavy boulder or like a big, fat, heavy baby wyrm would, I dropped. And but for what seemed like minutes of frantically trying to flap my wings while hurling toward the ground at a breakneck speed, it was only a few seconds.

However, for the life of me, I could not get my wings to work. They did not so much as move. It seemed like I was destined to be one with the ground. If you ask me, that is way in-tune with nature for my liking. I did not wanted to become like those eastern green-loving druids I had heard some far away travelers gossiping in a tavern; I'd rather stay a black wyrm than be like those tree-huggers.

Then I hit the ground and blackness overwhelmed me. That was the second death in my life.

CHAPTER 4: Amusing Lies and Indifference

Hah, I am only toying with you. I didn't really hit the ground, in fact, I did not even reach halfway down the cliff before I was flying.

You see, its just like getting used to new boots, except more extreme, very more so.

Seeing that I was safe from any immediate dangers, I gave a cursory glance to my surroundings and found all three of my brothers intact and flying. Greenie, however, was nowhere to be found, not at the top, not at the bottom.

Thus, all of us, minus Greenie, flew back to the top of the cliff where we found our mother waiting impatiently with what seemed like an arched brow-ridge. Yes, dragons do not have any eyebrows.

Our mother was also simultaneously chewing on the carcasses of two deers. It was quite similar to a cow chewing cud with the exceptions of the loud bone-breaking noises. I found that action quite endearing. It was that kind of “you guys kept me waiting for such a long time that I had time to hunt two deers and leisurely chew on them” action. Quite endearing, really.

She took one look at our group and noticed immediately that Greenie was missing. She puffed out a short breath of air and went right back to chewing, waiting a few minutes to see if Greenie would show up.

When Greenie did not show up, our mother just snorted in what seemed like disdain and looked down at us, not kindly or unkindly, just somewhere in between. It was a feeling of indifference that I got from that.

“The weak do not survive. Greenie was...weak. Such is the way of life.” That was all our mother said when her daughter died. And that was all her daughter was going to get, that brief pittance of hesitation.

The mother dragon then abruptly turned around and flew off, expecting us to follow her back to the cave. She was going to make us put our newly-earned ability to good use.

Along the way, I imagined the scenario of Greenie hurtling toward the ground into nonexistence. Who knew that it would have come true?

Still, I did not feel any sadness at her death. A two-day bond, at the very best, would have just earned her a little prayer. And a twenty-year old bond a day of silent grief, which I would eventually get to someday, I thought, thinking of my father.

Those were my feelings as our mother flew back to the cave with us in tow, each in our own reality, each in our own relief at having survived. It was only later when I was back in the cave and preparing to sleep that I realized that our mother had taken the long route home.

Chapter 5: Before the Final Day of Training

DISCOURSE #1

Now, a little discourse is needed to answer the burning question in your mind or bring it up if you have not already wondered about it. Just how did my siblings and I understand our mother's words when we were just days old.

It's simple yet complex at the same time. I have come to understand during my travels and experience with other intelligent dragons that it is because of our racial and instinctive magic. Basically, it allows us to comprehend all spoken languages and translate our words too; there also seems to be some sort of hereditary magic that passes down a basic understanding of our language. Don't ask me how it works because even I have yet to figure it out. All I care is that it is quite handy in the fact that it has helped immeasurably in communicating with the other races.

Just like how my tale will be interspersed with life-threatening incidents, it shall also include many more minor discourses. That said, I shall continue with my story.

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The next five days of the two weeks of training went fairly well. We learned how to hunt, fly more efficiently, and other basic survival skills for a dragon. The only time it even got close to dangerous was when a hunting party of six green-skinned orcs chose to hunt us wyrms rather than the deer they were chasing onto the nearby plains. To their regrets, mother quickly made short work of them and made us feast on them. And to my delight, they tasted rather like cooked pork.

My brother wyrms, however, expressed disgust at the taste and stopped after one bite. They preferred their meat bloody and raw whereas my refined sense of palate would allow for both raw and cooked meat. I guess thanks should go to my previous human life.

Seeing me still digging into the pile of cooked orc bodies, my siblings kept up their looks of disgust. I even saw mother snorting a little, looking at me eat so amorously. I guess she preferred her meat raw too. I shrugged an “oh well” with my wings. More for me.

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By now I was quite used to everything mother would throw at us, so the eight day of training came as a surprise. She told my brother wyrms and I that we would have a free day. Needless to say, I was suspicious of her sudden new-found generosity. And I was glad when my suspicions were not unfounded. Or should I say, disappointed.

We learned that we were to spend the day at a specific location and if I was any great judge of directions and the way the sun cuts a swathe in the sky, we were in the southern reaches of the forest I was born in. Calling this place a forest, however, would do it no justice. This was like a sprawling maze of many forests combined into one. And this maze seemed to stretch on for leagues.

I was currently in the middle of scratching my back against the bark of a tall tree while listening to my mother. This itch had been bothering me greatly since this early morning on the flight here and it felt gratifying to finally scratch the areas where my wings sprouted from.

“This,” mother said, eying me as I let out a small sigh of contentment, “is where you will spend the day.” She looked askance at me as if I would do something to disobey her order. “You may not leave this southern part of the forest.”

She stretched her wings out to the full extent and looked ready to fly. “Oh, and each one of you will bring me back a souvenir.” She looked at me as if she knew the question I had in mind. “You will know what to bring me when you see it.” Mother then turned to leave and before long, the only signs that she had been here were the deep imprints left on the soft patches of grasses and the occasional leaves and twigs that looked as if they had been strewn by angry winds.

I turned to my brother wyrms to see if they had any idea what mother meant, but all of them looked as clueless as I was, if not more. Scarlet, bright eyed and alert, was slowly taking in his surroundings, as if ingraining it into his memories for future use whereas Blue and Yellow were inseparable as ever. They, except for the color of their scales, were eerily similar to each other, so much so that I had to wonder if they were twins.

We were all alike in size and strength, all of us being around six feet tall with Scarlet a slight half-a-hand taller. By the way, I was the second tallest and largest.

What could I say? Dragons grow very quickly.

None of us, however, looked worried at mother abandoning us for the day. After all, what could really hurt us? Deers? Boars? Hah, both were unlikely. It would be like taking a branch to an iron sword and our scales were harder than iron. We also were not in any danger of being lost. Even now, we could sense our mother's presence a distance away. I suppose it was due to some instinctive form of magic that could sense our progeny.

I had finished satisfying my itch and before I could take even a cursory glance at my surroundings, it came hurtling toward Scarlet with only one warning, the snap of a branch and the crackles of the leaves as if something considerably large had brushed passed by. And before I could even see what happened to Scarlet as he turned to confront the thing, another one of them came hurtling down, only this time, it was from the tree above me.

In just seconds, I was down on the earth, wrestling with a dark mass of furious claws and fur. The black claws went for the softer scales on my belly, but it only resulted in a futile attempt. Like iron on iron, but mine the harder one. Seeing that it could not penetrate or even barely mar the softer scales on my belly, it went for my wings.

By that time, however, I was ready for the thing. My mind was in a state of alert and everything, unneeded emotions and feelings, became dampened. It was like cold ice, my mind, except everything became more clear. I do not know why this occurred only now and not when my previous life as a human was in danger, but that wasn't important now. What was important was killing the danger that threatened me at this moment.

I lunged at what was the thing's neck, mouth first, and tore at it, a chunk of fur and flesh coming free. It tasted vile even for my accommodating palate, so I spat the chunk out at its face, blinding it momentarily with its own hot blood. I had overturned the thing and our positions were now switched. It was I who was on top and the dark form on the ground. Almost by reflex, my right forelimb came forward and with strength comparable to that of a lean horse, I crushed the thing's neck with my talons as the vanguard of the attack.

Feeling my senses heightened from the danger, I instantly glanced at all of my surroundings for more enemies, but found none except for the ones my brother wyrms were currently wrestling with. It couldn't have been a coincidence that there were only four of these monsters, one for each of my brothers and I. Scarlet was busy swiping at his opponent who was already bleeding from many wounds and sure enough, before long, one deadly swipe found purchase at the thing's throat, rending it to death. Bits of flesh flapped out from its throat as it fell to the ground with a thud.

I looked to the right of Scarlet and found Blue and Yellow in a team battle against two of the things. The two brothers moved in harmony and eerily perfect coordination, making their two opponents look clumsy by comparison. It was only a matter of moments before the brothers' deadly dances plunged through the things' stomachs.

Feeling safe and my cold state withdrawing, I looked at my fallen enemy and found that I could see it more clearly. It was no longer just a dark blur of outline and mass; instead, it was almost humanoid in shape; about five feet or so tall, triangular ears that jutted out from the sides of his head, slanted black eyes, a dog-like nose, and black fur that covered it entirely except for patches of area on its head.

Looking at the monster's corpse, I found it to be a male, judging from the bulge below his stomach. The thought of mother wanting a souvenir also flashed into my mind and I set off, determined to cut off its, no, his paw. Finished with the grisly job, I looked to my brothers and found them doing the same. Scarlet, however, chose to take the head of his fallen enemy rather than taking a paw off like Blue, Yellow, and I.

It was only later on in my life as a dragon that I would realize that they were called gremlins and that the reason why they were so hard to sense and see was due to their magic.

Once all of us were finished taking our own respective souvenirs, we decided to head out back to the large presence that was our mother. I, however, decided to spend the day in a lake before taking the souvenir back to mother. She did not, after all, specify that we had to return as soon as we got our souvenirs. It was going to take a while to wash off all the vile blood on me. And if I did not mention it before, dragons were deft swimmers, at least, I had hoped they were at that time of my life.

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The ninth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth day of training were exhilarating, yet frustrating. We were learning from our mother how to breathe fire and it was only on the eleventh day that I could even blow out a smidgen of fire. I am glad to say, however, that I was the first one to succeed as my brothers could only do so on the twelfth day. If my brother wyrms or I had still not learned how to breathe fire, mother would have killed us. She had made sure that threat had been lodged into our mind. And we were not one to argue with someone who was more than twenty times our size, no overstatement on her size this time.

The thirteenth day of training was a rest day and there were no attached strings to it this time, which made me deeply suspicious of what tomorrow would bring. It was nothing good, I was sure. Still, I put those thoughts out of my mind and spent half the day training my fire breathing skill before finally relaxing.

Oh, how I wished I had been wrong about tomorrow.

Chapter 6: First Tribulation

Discourse #2

I stared at my little “guest,” who had chosen to come into my domain, knowing that questions were running through my guest's mind. I had, after all, elected to not tell the full story, leaving out some parts. It was just more amusing that way and some parts were secrets best left unsaid.

Now, I suppose I should clear up a little misconception you now have about dragons, particularly my family. Unlike most other dragons, we were more intelligent and more ancient in our ways. By that, I refer to the training mother subjected me to undergo when I was a wyrm. It is way different from normal, “lesser”, dragons' whose broods are not subjected to life-threatening training. We were, after all, the old generation dragons, far superior to the new generation dragons. And even though we were part of Astlan, the collective name for the clans of the old generation dragons, our family was part of one of the more superior clans of dragons.

As I found out soon enough, mother was not a simple creature of magic. No, she was instead one of the mightiest dragons from the oldest bloodline there is. And the reason for our simple names was because we were still wyrms, mere babes to her who did not deserve a real name, at least not until the training was concluded.

Ah, our dear mother dragon; fierce, enormous, fiery, harsh, indifferent and brutal.

Once more, I stared into my guest's eyes, knowing that I would have to kill my only audience once my story was finished. I did not relish the task for I had come to like my only guest, after all. And my guest had such brave eyes, a pair of green eyes that were almost not scared of me at all. They complimented my own emerald eyes.

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The fourteenth day of training reared its ugly head at the crack of dawn. We had followed our mother into the depths of the northern forest and had arrived at an ancient looking arena, which was circular in shape and its diameter spanned more than two hundred feet by my guess. The perimeter of the arena was entirely made out of stone and the walls reached no more than six feet. There also seemed to be only rough soil and no obstacles by the look of it inside the arena. The words “ancient,” “plain-looking,” and “large,” would have summed it up perfectly.

Looking at the arena, my mother and the rest of my wyrm siblings, I knew that we were going to be battling creatures, either separately or together with my brothers. Perhaps it was going to be more gremlins or perhaps even stronger foes. I was quite curious to find out—I had never seen gremlins before and so was intrigued to know more about different creatures. My curiosity was insatiable, a part of my personality that had not diminished in the least even after being reincarnated into a dragon. Thinking back, oh, how I wished my thoughts about battling with stronger foes in the arena were true. It would have been better than what mother made us go through.

Yes, the fourteenth and dangerous, hateful, final day of our wyrm training was a one-for-all deathmatch between us siblings until only one of us or none of us was left standing. Not one of us had a choice in the matter, for our mother dragon told us she would kill whoever left the arena or chose not to fight. I still distinctly remember that day of killing even now as a full grown dragon.

My state of mind at that moment when mother revealed the death match was one of perplexity tinged with a little dislike and annoyance. I did not see the point of us siblings killing each other at all. What purpose would that serve other than to weaken our family? A curious matter, really, of which I would be sure to ask mother after I had survived this trial. Cold determination partnered with my instinct for survival coursed through me like cold fire.

We were in the middle of the arena, each of us preparing ourselves for a battle to the death, all of us prepared to use whatever means to kill at the slightest sign of faltering. I could feel the tension and the cold anger building up in my body, the hard soil on my talons. Scarlet, the largest of us brothers was a distance away to my front and Blue and Yellow, both just a little smaller than me, were to my left and right respectively. Aware of my surroundings and opponents, all I needed to do now was wait for mother to start the match.

I looked to Blue and Yellow, and gave them a small nod, imperceptible to onlookers, before staring at Scarlet. Crimson red, like the color of human blood, he was the largest and most dangerous of us all. None of us were quite confident of facing him one on one.

Mother, not quite far off from the perimeter of the arena, looked as indifferent as ever, perhaps even more so now. I turned to look back at my brothers and a realization passed through me and an instant later, mother told us to start the death-match.

On all four of my limbs and my wings folded because mother would not allow an aerial battle, I charged straight at Yellow, ignoring both Scarlet and Blue. All of them were dumbfounded by this sudden betrayal, especially Scarlet whose usual, cruel, indifferent face had changed. Judging from this, I had realized that Scarlet had figured all three of us would make a small battle pact to kill him first and had resigned himself to this disadvantage, which would have undoubtedly resulted in his futile death.

Before any of my brothers could react, I had already covered the fifteen feet distance from Yellow, who had now recovered at this sudden danger. It was too late, however. My pounce was now unstoppable and I went down in a tumble with Yellow beneath me, the softer scales of his underbelly showing. I was not aiming for that, however. Instead, I went straight for his head.

I opened my jaws just wide enough to snap down with considerable force on his eyes and the middle of his snout. Vicious iron-like teeth, all of them incisors that could make a weapons merchant trade in his beloved wife for just a few of them, clamped down on the barely protected brow-ridge and snout with enough force to break rocks. I tasted blood, powerful blood, almost hot enough to be fire itself, which could only make me imagine that the blood contained the essence of fire.

Consider a heated coupling at the very tip of climax and combine that with your favorite food and you could just barely imagine what this blood tasted like to me. Questions pricked at my mind, but they were all set aside for later contemplation by my cold anger. I could afford no distractions in this death-match.

Mixed with this blood, were leathery skin and pieces of what I deemed to be remnants of his eyeballs. I quickly disengaged myself and spat the pieces out before looking at Yellow. His face was now a mangled, mutilated mess and the left side of his face now had a gaping hole for where his eyeball used to be. Only the right side of Yellow's face, which had not taken the full brunt of the bite, was salvageable with half an azure eyeball, the color of the skies, left.

A single bite, an instant of a moment, and now a brother was dying. Pain finally registered on Yellow's mind and a roar of pure agony was emitted, followed closely by a second one, which came from Blue.

I hurriedly glanced to the source of that noise and was content to find my realization was true—that the twin wyrms, Yellow and Blue, who looked entirely similar to each other, shared the same pain. There was a look of pure anger mixed in with genuine pain on Blue's face and reflected in his yellow eyes. Seeing his twin brother dying while weakly crying out for help, Blue rushed at me, intent on killing me the same way his twin brother would die; an inevitable fact.

Blinded with vengeance, Blue did not see it before it was too late. Scarlet had rushed up behind him and now held his throat in a death-grip with his teeth, which were even more impressive than mine. The weapons merchant would surely have given the red dragon his second wife in addition to the first wife, if he had a second one, for those impressive incisors.

I was ready to join the one-sided fight, but before I could even make it halfway across, Scarlet had killed Blue. It took only an instant, and had I still my human eyes instead of these dragon eyes, I would have seen just a blur.

Having realized that his teeth could not pierce through the thick scales on Blue's throat, Scarlet had pushed him down with his much heavier weight and with the talons on his right forelimb, he pierced Blue's left eye. Swift like the vanguard of an elite army, the two talons stabbed into the eye with a sickening sound. They went as deep as possible before Scarlet pulled them out, the talons now bloodied by his brother's blood. Scarlet then stepped away from Blue, ignoring the final scream he would ever make, and turned toward me, a joyous grin plastered on his face at his victory.

“You made a good choice, brother. If you had decided to kill me first with the other two, I am sure you would have been the next target. I only realized this after you had left Yellow to slowly die.” His red eyes with yellow pupils the shape of thin, sharp ovals met my own emerald eyes. “Now, it is just us two.”

A weak roar, not my own, was the only response to his speech. It came from behind me, making it Yellow's. It was the roar of a wyrm on the last vestige of life. If death was a god, I could only imagine Yellow would have been desperately holding onto his coattails.

With the bodies of our two brothers, dead or dying, behind us respectively, we examined each other. It was obvious that Scarlet, being the larger one, was stronger than me. And looking at how he killed Blue almost instantly, I had no doubts about his speed. Cautiously gauging the ten feet distance between us, I had no delusions as to who would be the disadvantaged one.

And even though my emotions were toned down into almost indifference by my cold anger, I could not help but feel excited by the prospect of a challenging duel. Even this cold state of mine could not suppress the excitement from my blood, which was boiling at the imminent duel to the death. It was intriguing. Was the cause of this feeling from the blood I had ingested earlier or from the inevitable death match?

I had no time to wonder at this new information before Scarlet suddenly charged at me, his wings folded so as to not impede him and for maximum speed. I also charged at him and my awareness changed; the world was now just Scarlet, my surroundings, and I. I ignored everything else, including mother who was quietly watching a distance away, who, as usual, had a look of indifference.

At the moment Scarlet lunged at me, I swerved to my left, barely dodging him. I felt him pass by, but my right wing, however, still took damage even though I had anticipated that he was going to come straight at me for the kill, using his larger size effectively. It felt like he had left a large tear, but I felt that it would not affect my fight. Wings, after all, were not used in this fight as mother would not allow aerial fights in this match.

Having dodged his pounce by a hairbreadth, I instantly turned around and rushed at him. Before Scarlet even had a second to regain his bearing after landing, I had tackled his side and lacerated his right wing with my fangs. I could feel the flexible, yet hard bones on his right wing, not willing to yield to the force of my crushing bite. I could also feel his powerful, hot blood coursing through my mouth, making me ecstatic, powerful, and 0uncontrolled. It almost made me unwilling to back off. Almost.

I knew that by now Scarlet had regained his bearing and by his angry roar, he had taken some damage; the joint and the leathery wing now looked half torn with many marks on it, like a small quarry that had been torn ferociously by a large predator, not that my opponent was a quarry. He was bleeding heavily from the wounds on his right wing and I was confident that would slow him down, giving me a little advantage, a precious commodity to even the fight.

Both of us were wounded in similar areas, but my injury and bleeding were to a lesser extent. I had forced this fight into a waiting game and I could tell by the outraged look in his red eyes that Scarlet clearly did not like this idea. I could also perceive some respect in them, or was it just more anger?

“Not bad,” Scarlet softly whispered, just enough for me to hear. He gave me a chilling grim smile. Then his voice went up a few octaves. “I had expected a direct confrontation and some trickery, but not this, brother.” A slight hesitation, almost unperceived. “Coward.”

The crimson dragon was trying to taunt me into attacking him, but I would not fall for it and Scarlet himself knew it would not work, only halfheartedly trying.

I remained silent, cautious of of my brother and looking at his broad-shouldered and snakelike body for a sign of attack. My caution was soon answered as he rushed at me, baring his fangs, the muscles rippling on his thick legs.

Instead of meeting him in his mad dash, I waited patiently for him, prepared to dodge at the last moment. When he came within six feet of me, he took a huge breath and his stomach instantly bulged outward. Realizing what was about to happen, I dove toward his left side, trying to dodge the impending fire breath.

Scarlet, however, was anticipating this and smoothly changed the direction his mouth was facing. His mouth wide open and his jaws dropped to its utmost limit, it was enough to make a snake jealous. Realizing that I could no longer dodge it, I dropped down and closed my eyes, but not before I saw three huge fireballs chained together in succession come out from his mouth. As soon as I touched the floor of the arena, those snakelike fireballs passed over me, one of them reaching low enough to explode in my face.

I roared in agony as my face started burning; even a dragon's natural resistance to heat and fire could not withstand this abnormal fire. How was this possible? Even though I was the first one to successfully breathe fire, mine was nowhere near as powerful as Scarlet's fire breath. I had even tested it out on one of my brother at his behest, but it did not even burn him. It showed how resistant we were to flames.

A second later after that piercing burning, I felt the flames die down as they could no longer find foothold on my face. My fire resistance had overcome it. I opened my eyes—they were luckily not damaged—only to find a huge flying body careening toward me. It was Scarlet pouncing at me.

I felt all my breath go out as his huge body landed on me, the softer scales on my underbelly facing him. I could feel my wings underneath me, pressed to the floor with the force of the weight of two heavy wyrms. It would held, however, as our wings were made to be durable.

I knew that Scarlet would go straight for the kill and could already feel him aiming to rip out my burnt face. My teeth, however, found foothold on his neck first, forcing a stop to his death bite. Not even wasting a moment of this reprieve, I dug into his mangled right wing with the talons on my left forelimb. Being underneath him, I was in the perfect position to do so. I could feel his blood soaking my left limbs and belly as I opened his wounds wider and wider.

Not able to take the pain longer, Scarlet heaved with effort and I felt myself being lifted right off the floor of the arena. My mouth was still clamped onto his thick, scaly short neck and my left forelimb was still digging into his right wing as he shook himself and spun, trying to throw me off, his tail whipping around in a frenzy of pain and anger.

Sure enough, I could no longer hold on to him and felt my grip loosening on his neck and my left talons slipping. With a great final shake from the red wyrm, I felt myself flying a short distance away, but not before I heard a terrible ripping sound. I hit the ground with not inconsiderable force, but still, I got up instantly and turned to look at my opponent.

Scarlet was bleeding heavily and his whole right wing had torn off, with only jagged remnants still attached below his right shoulder. Even if he won this fight, Scarlet would never fly again. He would only be a lowly and pitiable ground dragon.

A great ear-shattering bellow came from him and his eyes turn all red, making him look like some demon-possessed wyrm, not that I know what demon possession look like. And from the spot where I was calmly observing him, ten feet away since I was not sure what was happening to him, Scarlet's muscles seem to ripple with force. He seemed to have become larger, if my eyes were any great judge.

I turned to look at mother, who was, as usual, calmly observing this match indifferently, as if nothing unusual had occurred. I suppose she didn't notice his glowing red eyes, whose yellow pupils seemed to have shrunken into almost nonexistence. They were like tiny little yellow pinpricks of glowing orbs.

And those abnormal eyes were now settled upon me, determined to make me into wyrm mincemeat. I stayed calm, however, still burning with my cold anger, which improved my battle prowess and dulled any unneeded emotions. All four of his limbs tensed and I could have sworn the stone floor of the arena groaned under the force. Perhaps the floor was just weak from dilapidation and time, but I was not confident of that fact.

Scarlet seemed to almost burst as all of his muscles, even more formidable now after he had turned into something insane, worked in harmony. His speed was almost doubled as he raced toward me, intent on flooring me into oblivion. I must admit, the sight of him would have undoubtedly frightened me were I not sure of the fact that Scarlet no longer seem to have any intelligence to his eyes and the fact that my eyes could still follow his movements. Barely.

He was now a battle crazed creature. And if you have never seen a red wyrm, larger than usual for its age, rippling with muscles, with a torn right wing, and soaked with blood on his red scales, then you are lucky, for any human who did not have a death-wish would have peed himself or herself. So consider yourself a virgin in not shamefully pissing on yourself due to fear if you have never been in such a situation. Kudos to your survival senses.

By the time Scarlet was going to pounce at me, I was already diving to my left. Just as I was thinking of having successfully dodging his charge, something blurry, shaped like a whip, slammed into my face with such force that I was blown away a foot. Only after I hit the ground did I realize that the blurry whip was his tail.

Knowing any second that he was going to come for me and with no time to ponder the unexpected attack, I quickly regained my balance. I was not swift enough as it was long enough for Scarlet to tackle me and once more, put me into this familiar, disadvantageous position. His strength was now almost doubled so I had no doubt as to whether I would be able to fend him off.

Once again, I clamped Scarlet on his throat with my teeth, but this time it was only to gain a few precious seconds before he killed me. I was not disillusioned of my ability to overpower him or even hold him off with his superior strength. With those few precious seconds gained, I dug into the large, jagged hole where his right wing had torn. I was a little bit shocked as Scarlet did not even flinch from it. With my hold on his neck weakening every second, I chose another method to free myself from under him.

I elected to use my tail as a weapon. It was quite stupid of me, but it had not even occurred to me once to use it as a weapon until I saw Scarlet use it. I suppose I should lay blame on the fact that I retained my human memories and sensibilities when I reincarnated into this black wyrm. Thus, I bashed my tail, which was flexible beyond belief, on par with the potential of opposable thumbs, on Scarlet's face, specifically the area where his eyes were at.

Perhaps my brother had sensed that I was going to do something or it was his preternatural senses working overtime in his insane state, he forcefully lowered his face, causing my tail to only bash the top of his head. The spikes on my tail, which none of my brothers or even my long-dead sister had, scraped against the hard scales on the top of his head. It was an ear-jarring sound, but both of us were not bothered by it.

A few seconds had passed by now and my hold on his neck had weakened considerably due to my brother thrashing around. Sensing this, Scarlet shook his neck and head to one side with so much force, he successfully freed himself and left me a little dazed. Taking advantage of this, Scarlet instantly bit down on the part of my face where my eyes where located at. It was only with the utmost will and my impressive reflexes that I was able to raise my head slightly so that he clamped down not on my eyes, but on my snout.

Some of the fleshy part of my snout which were not protected by my black scales were pierced and I roared in pain. Fresh, hot blood flowed freely from the wounds. Motivated by his death-grip on my snout, I used my tail which was spiked all around, in retaliation. I bashed his face with such force that a loud smacking sound resounded and it left Scarlet disoriented a bit, his eyeballs shaking. His only response to this was to dig deeper with his fangs. I felt my blood bleed out even more profusely.

I knew then that it was now do-or-die.

Just as he bit down on my snout even more deeply, I repeatedly bashed his face with my spiked tail. I could feel my breath tightening, coming harder and harder every second, and my snout in shreds, with only a few of the intact scales holding it in one piece.

Still, it was an even situation as I gave as much as I accepted. My tail repeatedly bashed his face and Blood sprayed into the air as the sharp spikes on my tail impacted against his face. One of his eyeball became loose and the other was now smashed like an egg. His face was as mangled as mine.

This situation seemed eternal, becoming a repetitive process; him biting me and me bashing his face in with my tail. Some time passed and I was sure I was going to die. I could only now barely breathe from my left nostril and I could no longer feel anything related to my snout.

So this is it, I thought to myself, this is how I die. How stupid and undignified. At least this time I will go down with a fight unlike my human death.

Suddenly, I felt the death-clench of fangs loosen around my snout. Then the red dragon, my brother Scarlet, went limp on top of me. His face was now an unrecognizable mass of caved in wounds, bruises, and torn scales.

It was too late, however, as I could also feel myself dying, the lifeblood draining away. I could barely breathe, even more so with Scarlet's not inconsiderable weight on top of me. Blood dripped from his face onto mine. Our faces inches away from each other, the blood mixing together in a sad pool of death. A drop soon fell into my mutilated mouth.

Without warning, I felt aroused. How laudable that this would occur with the corpse of my brother on top of me and not some pretty woman. Was I some necrophiliac? An abnormal one to even be aroused by the corpse of my brother wyrm.

As I was mulling over these things with my consciousness slowly fading away, a little bit of my strength, almost unnoticeable, returned. And as damaged as my nostrils were, I could now smell the blood of my brother. And before I even knew what I was doing, my fangs bit down on my brother's mangled face. Blood filled my mouth and I desperately swallowed, almost instantly feeling my strength return and my wounds closing and healing at a godly rate.

Before long, I had drained more than half of my brother's blood and he did not weigh as much anymore. I felt empowered by the blood and stronger than before I was prior to the death match in the arena. But most important of all, I was going to survive.

Scarlet's corpse was now just a husk of his former self with barely any blood left. I do not know how I could drain all that blood and not implode from too much of it. It was a curious thing and I guess that it probably went to healing my wounds or perhaps making me stronger. It was as if I had absorbed some of Scarlet's strength into me.

Intrigued by my new ability, I pushed away the corpse on top of me and went to Yellow's corpse. After draining him for some time, I also did the same to Blue's corpse. It was interesting, to say the least. I felt my strength had more than doubled. You could say that I was now a little stronger than Scarlet in his insane, like demon-possessed, state.

Just like that, the death-match was over and only I, out of all my brothers, was the sole survivor. Thus, I stood there in the middle of the stone floor of the dilapidated circular arena drenched in the blood of my brothers and amidst their corpses. I felt like one of those slave gladiators in the stories I had heard about from the people who hailed from the eastern continent, a vast distance away from where I was once a human. Now, I had no clue where I was; probably just a random forest in a random part of a continent.

The enormous emerald dragon, the judge of the death-match—my mother—finally deigned to bestow her attention upon me. She came toward me, her gigantic body lumbering toward me with cold efficiency. Seeing her, I had no doubts that if she chose to kill me, I would not even have a small probability of survival.

“That was well done, though a bit lacking in certain aspects,” she said, a slight hesitation before continuing, “my son.” It was the first time the mother dragon had ever acknowledged the filial relationship between us. She had only treated all of us siblings with calm and indifference, as if we were no more than strangers to her.

“So why the death-match between all of us...mother?” I asked, curiosity filling me and making me almost forget the corpses behind me. “Why this senseless killing?”

The huge emerald dragon, more than multiple times my size looked into my eyes, which were the same color as her; her eyes were of the purest green and pupils that could have swallowed darkness itself. They were entrancing as they danced with cruel intelligence and indifference.

“Why, you ask, my son?” She gave me a feral grin so ferocious and so wide with her sword-like fangs that any lesser creatures would be paralyzed with fear. “Because we are dragons.”

Volume 1 (Chapter 7-12)