Chapter 114: The Diligent Little Bees
The meat they had worked so hard to roast hadn't even made it to their mouths before it was snatched away by the green dragon. With no other choice, Kowa and the others slaughtered a few more sheep and started roasting again.
Still, he had heard stories: if a dragon ate your sheep, you could go to the khalasar of Nocchi Kao to claim compensation. Not only would there be no loss, you could even receive nearly ten times the amount of meat that had been taken.
Thinking of it that way, he was more than willing. Having one's roast chosen by a dragon felt like an honor in itself.
What he hadn't expected was that before the second batch of sheep was fully roasted, the same green dragon returned again. Just like before, she drooled shamelessly, clamped the sheep in her jaws, and flew off.
He could tell that the green dragon truly loved his roasted meat. What puzzled him was why she would rather drool all over the sheep and carry it away instead of eating it right there.
Naturally, he didn't flatter himself into thinking that he or his people might somehow disturb her while she ate.
Rhaegal and Viserion worked like two tireless little bees, flying back and forth between the Skahazadhan River and the grasslands.
Drogon's body, meanwhile, was like a bottomless pit—accepting all food without discrimination, rapidly replenishing the energy consumed by something akin to genetic reconstruction.
With each surge of energy came another wave of pain, another phase of transformation, and another burst of rapid growth.
Before the previous restructuring had even finished, new bone spurs began to emerge. The ones that had already pierced through the skin continued to grow relentlessly.
The newly formed forelimbs gradually darkened in color, sprouting fine scales, while short bone spurs emerged at the joints.
His body lengthened and thickened further. Drogon even felt as though his face no longer belonged to him—his snout widened, his old teeth fell out completely, and the new ones had only partially grown in, severely slowing his eating.
An hour later, as the steady supply of energy continued, the transformation finally began to stabilize.
Knowing the major restructuring was nearly complete, Drogon dragged his exhausted body back into the river for another wash. Once finished—he ate again.
With the reconstruction complete, his body entered a rapid recovery phase. Flesh and scales were almost entirely replaced, and newly healed wounds quickly sprouted fresh scales.
The newly grown bone spurs gradually stopped lengthening, their color deepening as they hardened.
The most severe wounds were on his chest, where the forelimbs had burst forth. Healing there was slowest, and he barely dared exert any strength. For now, he hadn't even figured out how to properly use these new limbs.
Wings had always been half his hands. His claws were the other half—and also his feet. Now that he had suddenly grown an extra pair of forelimbs… was this nature's way of telling him to crawl?
If that were the case, he would truly lose the pleasure of walking upright. More importantly—although he now had the body of a dragon, he still carried a human mind. If he really turned into a crawling beast, could he still be considered human at heart?
Fine. He'd treat the forelimbs as hands.
But when he imagined himself lifting those forelimbs and walking upright, the image looked disturbingly like a puppy begging its owner for attention.
What a dilemma.
Staring at the newly grown limbs, Drogon decided to shelve the question for now. He'd think about how to use them properly after the wounds healed.
With the pain easing somewhat, he finally had the mental space to reflect on the cause of this mutation. The most likely explanation was the Light of Divinity.
Judging from how dim it had become, the truth was obvious. In the past, it had shone like a miniature sun in his mind, greedily absorbing faith energy.
Even though he harbored mixed feelings about the new limbs—grumbling a bit despite clearly benefiting—Drogon still had to thank the Light of Divinity.
From this reconstructed body, he could feel terrifying strength—at least twice what he had before. And this was with his body still recovering. Once the transformation fully stabilized, even he couldn't imagine how powerful he'd become.
After the burst of rapid growth, the hunger eased significantly, and his appetite dropped. Still, he kept eating, replenishing energy to repair his new body.
More than an hour later, after finally stopping, Drogon lay resting on the grass when he noticed two riders appear on the opposite bank of the river. The moment they spotted the three dragons, they tried to cross.
They waded in briefly, only to retreat once they realized the water was far too deep.
Rhaegal and Viserion noticed them as well and immediately took off from the grass, preparing to chase the intruders away—until Drogon stopped them with a low growl.
He could already tell the two riders were Unsullied, sent to search for him. They were likely trying to confirm his condition.
So Drogon rose from the grass and took a few deliberate steps, making sure they could clearly see that he was alive—and mobile.
Seeing Drogon stand up, the two Unsullied exchanged a brief discussion. One of them turned his horse and galloped back toward Meereen, while the other remained by the river, watching Drogon from afar.
Drogon couldn't help but find it amusing. He'd assumed they'd both leave—but apparently one was staying behind as if afraid he might run off.
At his signal, Rhaegal and Viserion landed again and resumed eating.
They'd been so focused on ferrying food back and forth for Drogon that they hadn't eaten much themselves. Now that he'd stopped, they finally began devouring the meat in earnest.