As this little one drifted into slumber - on the flip side of the world, two anxious parents paced restlessly. Or, as restlessly as dragons could pace any way.

It was a humble cave, for dragons; more cosy than impressive. It wasn’t laden with treasures and gold, as you’d expect; rather - it was quite bare and small. Quaint and slightly underwhelming, even. There was a tiny pile of rusted bronze coins, with a few faux gems and other random trinkets of little value.

In fact, the shiniest thing in the room was the beads of nervous sweat on the father-to-be.

Obviously these dragons had seen better times, after all, who in the world has ever heard of broke dragons before?

But all that was about to change, in the middle of the cave, lay a little nest. Here were the dragons’ true treasures - two tiny bronze eggs and a massive, gigantic half-orange-half-green-mother-of-all-sizes monstrosity of an egg between them.

The father dragon, let out a series of puffs and mini growls, obviously the draconic version of smoke signals to communicate with his mate.

“It will be this one. This one will change our lives,” another huff of smoke punctuated his excitement.

The mother dragon nodded sagely, humouring him. She, herself, wasn’t particularly worried or nervous - but her mate’s anxiety and restless pacing had rubbed off on her too. So, here she was, walking around the eggs like a shaman dancing around a bonfire.

“Definitely [MINI BOSS] calibre. AT MINIMUM. Look at the size of that!” the father dragon continued excitedly, pointing his snout at the orange egg.

He was a brass dragon, descended from a proud lineage of Golden dragons. How did that happen? One of his great-great-great ancestral grandmothers got a little too friendly with a year’s supply of tavern ale, ransacked of course, then even friendlier with a Brass half-blood dragon for a good 30 seconds.

Don’t judge, alcohol affects your control.

Dragons were arrogant creatures, and rightly so as they were amongst the most powerful beings in the land. They sneered at lesser creatures, who were ant-like existences compared to them. Such prideful creatures were of course extremely particular about their bloodlines and breeding, trying to keep it as pure as possible.

This also extended to mating with those of the lower scale in the color hierarchy.

Gold was at the top of the known food chain, followed by Silver, Bronze, and various other metal scales quoted from the Periodic Table; then finally Brass - who were firmly planted at the rock bottom of the hierarchy.

She, a golden dragon, had ‘frollicked’ with a Brass. For 30 seconds.

She claimed the booze blurred her vision and sense of colour, a rather poor excuse that did not fly with her kin.

Her punishment? Complete ostracization from the Dragon clan when her eggs turned out to be a mix of Gold and Brass. Banished into a little corner of the clan’s land, her offspring never to be admitted into the clan’s prime territories.

Fortunately, the blood ran thin, and through generations, there was not a single Brass scale in sight after that first batch of eggs. And her Golden descendants had finally been allowed to return to the clan.

Not so fortunately, this wasn’t the case for the very, very Brass him. In short, Murphy’s Law had given him a rather long, middle finger. As soon as his own parents saw his Brass coloured egg, they had abandoned him in some far away forest, fearing they would be exiled like their ancestors had.

As a hatchling, he had to fend for himself. Thankfully, there were no predators apart from him in the forest, otherwise we’d be short a story right now, with another premature 30 second ending. So, he hunted, grew and leveled up in peace. All alone.

As the years passed, he had longed for companionship, wondering if he was the only one of his kind.

One fine day, or not so fine day, depending on how you see it, he finally bumped into some of his kin. They had been hunting slightly further from the normal clan grounds. His joy at discovering he was not alone was rather short lived. In fact he, himself, almost became rather short-lived when he eagerly approached them to talk.

As soon as they saw his gold-tinted bronze scales, they had attacked him. Not to kill, but enough to wound him heavily. To them, a half-scale was a living pariah and embarrassment to the Dragon clan, yet he had the audacity to approach them and try to befriend them.

They had beaten him fiercely, mocked and humiliated him, then, finally left him to die. In their eyes, he was not even worth killing. It was a horrible, bitter experience for the young dragon.

It wasn’t all for nothing though. His first contact with Dragonkind had triggered dormant [LORE] within him. Normally, when a baby dragon hatched, it would automatically receive an understanding of how the clan worked upon first contact with its parents - or any other of its kind.

This was an instinctive telepathic ingraining that helped all newborn dragons know the clan’s entire history, it’s societal norms and most importantly, their role and position in the clan.

It was an unspoken explanation of why he had been abused so badly. Then and there, he had vowed to prove them wrong if he survived. To show his clan not to judge a dragon by its scales.

And he had survived - just barely. Today, he was built powerfully, 120 feet of pure muscle and scales. However, despite Dragon-kind’s society hierarchy being based on strength - he continued to be exiled for his Brass tainted golden scales.

Even without access to the clan's best feeding and hunting grounds, he had still managed to struggle his way to becoming [LEVEL 39], just at the edge of a class promotion. It was pure determination and a powerful desire to prove his prejudiced kin wrong that drove him forward, one level at a time.

Unfortunately, even if he managed to make the [LEVEL 40] requirement, the clan would never allow a Brass-scaled to undertake the transformation ritual or access to the treasure hoard for the items required for the evolution.

In short, he was stuck, and so were his plans of a triumphant return to the clan. But his mate had helped him make peace with that.

Finding a mate - even that had been a huge struggle. No one wanted to have a ‘half-scale’ as a life partner. But he had stumbled into his current mate, or to be more precise, she had stumbled into him, literally.

His mate had been attacked by a party of [ADVENTURERS] and severely injured. She was a young dragon and had yet to develop to her full power. The party of [ADVENTURERS] had scouted and singled her out on purpose. Hoping to get an easy kill from an undeveloped, inexperienced young dragon.

She had been fleeing frantically, when in her panic, she literally flew into him. He had been feeding on fish by the river, and her bumping into him had startled him into swallowing the fish whole, choking him. Till today, he swears a fishbone remains lodged somewhere at the back of his throat.

Taking out the [ADVENTURERS] had been child’s play for him. He roasted a few with his [DRAGON BREATH] and that was more than enough to scare them off. Til today, he took pride in bragging that if not for his timely and heroic intervention, she would have been turned into a bunch of [ITEMS] and [EXP].

Truthfully, it was still not quite love at first sight. She had disdained being rescued by a mere Brass scale. Arrogantly declaring that she could have handled it herself, then cursing his interference with rather unladylike language. Right before collapsing into a pile of bloody golden scales.

He had half a mind to leave her there, but his conscience guilted him into carrying her back to his lair.

Her injuries were not light, and he gently nursed her back to health over the next few months. All the time putting up with her curses and degrading comments. He bore it all with rather admirable stoicism. Never retaliating, just patting healing herbs on her wounds and leaving her morsels to eat.

She had thought him spineless and a coward - fitting of his half-scale status. Until finally, right before she was fully healed, she spat, “You will get nothing from me for your help. You think to profit from your ‘kindness’? The clan will have nothing to do with you, half-scale.”

His usual silence greeted her, making her snarl, “Why did you save me?”

“Because we are the same,” he replied.

“The same?” she had roared with laughter. “Tell me, half-scale, how are we the same?”

“We were both abandoned. Me, before I was even hatched. You, by your flight mates as soon as the [ADVENTURERS] appeared.”

His words had stuck her into silence. No mean feat to do that to any prideful, cranky and angsty female.

“Our kind don’t let our young hunt alone. You definitely had companions. Yet, you alone were fleeing from the [ADVENTURERS]. You are small. You are weak. Your flight mates must have panicked, then gave you up to survive. They fled, leaving you to die.

She bristled angrily at what he said, her scales twitching so furiously that a gentle humming echoed in the cave. But she did not deny his words.

“You have been in my lair, injured for a month, yet no one’s come looking for you. Saving you now will just shed light on their cowardice. To them, you’re better off dead...”

She let out a roar and balled into a battle stance, her full weight on her hind legs, preparing to propel forward and attack him.

“You are not my match, even at your full strength, let alone now that you are injured. Rest more. Then, you may return to your loving clan,” he said quietly and walked out.

She watched him leave, then, when he was out of sight, she collapsed into a bundle of depressed scales. Her neck curled around a stalactite, seeking reassurance and security.

They had abandoned her. He was right. They had cared nothing for her. She was dispensable. She ground her fangs, and decided. She would not return to the clan, instead, she chose to remain there with him. Her pride would not allow it, and she wanted vengeance.

She would suffer his presence, use him to get stronger, then leave him to avenge herself. Or at least that was the initial plan.

Decades passed, they hunted, ate and slept together. In him, she had found a surprisingly strong and reliable mate who would both protect and provide. In her, he found companionship, and a partner for his cause.

They suffered through ice cold winters, through struggling to find food in the barren lands. And they plotted revenge on the clan. Slowly collecting bits of treasure here and there, but finding nothing of real worth.

But this moment would make up for all of that. Their first step in the plan to get even with the clan. It would begin with their next generation.

This was literally the biggest dragon egg he had ever seen. He would be the sire to the next [MINI BOSS].

“No! With the egg’s dual colours, it might even be a twin-headed dragon. We’re talking [EPIC BOSS] level here.”

The egg shimmered and crackled all of a sudden, the orange part of the egg slowly blending and recolouring the green shell portion. Soon, the egg was completely orange.

The dragon parents eyed the egg with concern, wondering what had caused the change.

Trying to stay positive, the father dragon puffed, “It evolved! The egg evolved! Nevermind becoming an [EPIC BOSS] - maybe this little one will become even mo…”

His thought was interrupted by tiny cracking sounds. The little eggs were hatching!

The mother dragon stood anxiously by the eggs, nuzzling them gently; as if encouraging the hatchlings to... well, hatch. The little ones obliged, and the eggs wiggled slightly. Soon, a little head popped out of the shell, oozing gunk, goo and other icky, sticky membrane-like stuff.

The newborn hatchling let out a series of chirps, more importantly - it was almost completely gold scaled. As it climbed out of the egg, a series of squawks and mini growls sounded beside it. Its other clutch mate was struggling to get out of its egg too.

The mother gently licked away the bloody membrane from her two newborns. Then, she nuzzled them gently, flipping them over to inspect that they were full-formed. Two wings. Check. Four paws check. Nose and eyes. Check.

No ears. Check.

She craned her neck backwards to examine them. They were both healthy, big even, for their age! One of them was even pure gold! Promising little seedlings, she puffed her chest oh so slightly in pride. My seedlings.

The father gave the two hatchlings affectionate sniffs and licks. He wrapped his neck around his mate’s, the two of them looking contentedly at their first young. The pure gold one would grow up to be a powerhouse - even amongst the gold- scaled. Already he was over a metre tall, with the markings of a unique dragon - teething fangs and baby tri-horns on his head.

Initiating the naming ceremony, the father pierced his own paw, then let a drop of blood fall onto the hatchling’s forehead. His mate blew a wisp of smoke onto the little hatching.

They murmured together intoning the ritual, “Baptised by blood and fire, in the spirit of the clan, by the way of the dragon. May your claws wreck havoc on your enemies, and your wings shelter all allies. Your true name shall be …”

A slight pause as the mother dragon looked meaningfully to her mate, deferring the naming to him.

“Trident!” he bellowed.

A tiny flare appeared on the hatchling’s middle horn. He flexed his wings as if in recognition, then squirmed towards the giant orange egg, nuzzled it and fell asleep. His clutch mate had long dozed off, lying languidly by her broken egg shell. Her golden, brass scales glimmering as she breathed in and out. She was smaller than her brother, jus under the quarters of a metre, but sleeker and definitely more feminine.

They repeated the ceremony for the second hatchling. This time it was the mother’s voice which whispered, “Shimmer.”

The newly named hatchling opened her eyes for a second as a flare appeared above her head. Then, groggily drifted back to sleep.

Still the main event had yet to come. The father dragon looked at the giant orange egg expectantly. This one, this was the one that really mattered.

Hours later, the egg still refused to budge, with not a crack in sight.

“Good things come to those who lay in ambush,” a wise dragon had once said. The father placated himself and continued waiting patiently. Soon it was late evening, Trident and Shimmer were stirring. It was time to feed.

He went to collect the hunt he had prepared for the newborns. A small deer he had caught early that morning. It was still fresh, blood dripping from its missing head. As soon as he stepped towards the nest, the two hatchling began to chirp excitedly at the scent of food - followed by a large thunderous crackle.

The giant orange egg had stirred! Not just that, it had begun slowly levitating in the air. Orange sparks began to surround the egg, with beams of white light flashing all around the lair.

“This is it! This is what I’ve been waiting for!” the father exclaimed excitedly, dropping the dead deer from his mouth.

The little ones were oblivious to spectacle around them, and began to half-crawl half-stumble towards their very first meal.

“THIS WILL THE BE ONE TO RULE!” the Father began cackling slightly.

“He will redeem us!” he looked at his mate, who was staring in awe at the egg.

“Look how majestic it is! He will be a monster among monsters. All will bow down to him. TO US!”

The sparks and lights intensified, speeding up and becoming brighter and brighter. A rumble began shaking the lair slightly.

“HE WILL BE OUR [PROTAGONIST]!” the father shouted in triumph, punctuated by an explosion that made everything in the lair mini skip into the air. The egg shattered into pieces and a pure flash of light enveloped the room, blinding everyone.

“FAFFfffFfff!!!!!” a little voice sounded excitedly, as a blitz of orange sped across the room.

A loud “glomp” was heard, and when they regained their sight, there was a tiny little hatchling with a bulging belly which literally showed the outline of the deer. The newest hatchling had actually sprinted across the den and swallowed the carcass in a single gulp, and little more than that too!

The father stared incredulously at his newborn, noticing that the little one had half swallowed the paw he had placed to hold down the deer as well.

“FafffSfffffs!!!” the little orange hatchling lisped with her mouthful, wagging its tail and fluttering her eyelashes happily.

4 pairs of eyes gaped at the orange hatchling, while she continued to flutter her eyelashes happily. Gingerly, the father removed his drool-covered paw from her mouth and examined her.

She had glowing orange scales, and her stretched belly showed an intricate birthmark. A circle of tiny circles connected by what seemed to be a triangle.

“Her size…” a tear appeared in the Father Dragon’s eyes. “It’s unbelievable…” he choked. “How can she be so… so...?”

“... so TINY?” his mate interrupted, and spoke for the first time.

Without doubt, she wasn’t just small, she was super tiny, barely a quarter of a meter.

The little orange dragon let out a satisfied burp, then rolled onto her back and started to fall asleep. She tried to curl into a ball, but her huge belly prevented that from happening.

Her mother rubbed her tummy gently.

“Faff…” she purred gently.

“Don’t be so disappointed, husband. It is unbecoming in front of the little ones.”

“But she is… minute. Tiny. Diminutive. Even the smallest clan wyrmlings are twice her size. She’ll never be a [PROTAGONIST],” his disappointment empowering his lament and vocabulary.

“Perhaps, she doesn’t quite have the size to be one. But she is ours and she is special. We will love her, guide her and protect her.”

“Her scales, her speed and these strange markings. She is definitely special,” he reassured himself.

As he spoke those words, his conviction became stronger and stronger.

“My child may not quite be as strong as a [PROTAGONIST] -but maybe… strong-ish... maybe…. No! Definitely! A [PROTAGON-ISH],” he bellowed with a victorious laugh and continued laughing for a good five minutes.

His mate rolled her eyes and continued nursing her clutch. Males can truly be such idiots. Trident and Shimmer had recovered from their shock, and began to squawk in a symphony of protests.

The [PROTAGON-ISH] had eaten all their dinner.