Making his way through their private suite toward his room, Caspian found his mother waiting for him.
Her arms were crossed as she spoke.
"I just received word about what you did."
Her expression was conflicted.
"That was quick," Caspian said lightly.
She sighed, concern slipping through her composure.
"I didn't realise you were capable of such ruthlessness. Your draconic side appears… potent."
She paused, then softened.
"I only don't want you to lose yourself. I've seen what desperation for power can do. Promise me you won't become someone I can't recognise."
Her moon-shaped irises seemed to peer straight into his soul.
Caspian didn't want to lie—especially not to her.
"Mother," he said honestly, "I can't promise that. I don't know who I'll become as I walk this path."
He met her gaze steadily.
"But I can promise that I'll do my best to be someone you can be proud of."
She hugged him tightly.
"Silly," she whispered. "I'm already proud of you. I don't care whether you become king or live a quiet life. All I want is my son alive and well."
She hesitated, then added softly, "Your father would feel the same… if he were here."
Caspian pulled back and smiled at her eyes, brimming with maternal warmth.
"That's because I have the world's best mother."
She giggled quietly, the tension easing between them.
Later, alone in his room, Caspian sat before the dresser.
"After that little display," he muttered, "I need to increase my strength as fast as possible."
"System, show me the objectives for evolution."
[Affirmative Host.]
[Level 1:
Complete three dungeons
Obtain four affinities (2/4)
Defeat 10 worthy opponents]
"Three dungeons…" Caspian murmured. "Interesting."
From the memories he'd inherited, dungeons were naturally occurring labyrinths filled with puzzles and non-sentient monsters. Each completion granted rewards.
Lower races favoured them as training grounds, relying on a lesser power system compared to higher races.
For dragons, dungeons were considered beneath them.
Their natural strength, speed, and mana control rendered most dungeons trivial—especially for those who had evolved.
Still, only a handful of dragons could clear higher-difficulty dungeons alone.
On the dragon continent, twelve known dungeons existed, ranging from beginner to expert.
Access wouldn't be an issue.
As a royal, Caspian could obtain a pass easily.
"I should be able to earn enough Shop Points through the other objectives to handle the affinity requirement," he reasoned. "That means dungeons and worthy opponents come first."
He frowned slightly.
"What even qualifies as 'worthy'?"
After a few moments of thought, his focus shifted.
"I should head to the first dungeon as soon as possible. I'll ask Mother to arrange a pass. While I wait… I'll explore the city."
From his balcony, it looked like something out of a dream.
______
Elsewhere, a different plan was forming.
SLAP!
In an opulent chamber within one of the palace's main wings, Nyxos—the Dragon King's second son—had just struck his own son.
"You're worthless," Nyxos snarled. "You wanted more responsibility to 'prove yourself'? Prove what—that you're a failure?"
The words cut deep, yet Vorgath accepted them silently, desperate for approval.
"A cripple," Nyxos continued, "a half-breed born of some lowly commoner my sister slept with—and he humiliated you."
His fury mounted.
"He's already being whispered about as a potential heir. Bards are spinning tales of how he's unevolved yet displays genius worthy of the Ember-Lord!"
Nyxos glared.
"Do you feel no shame? Because I do."
Vorgath clenched his fists.
"I'm sorry, Father. Give me another chance. I'll fix this."
Nyxos exhaled sharply, then paused.
"Very well," he said slowly. "Your aunt has requested a dungeon pass. It must be for that mongrel of hers."
His gaze hardened.
"I'll leave it to you to deal with him. Do not disappoint me again. There will be no third chance."
His voice was absolute.
"I will become king."
Vorgath bowed deeply.
"As you command, Father."
Nyxos straightened, donning his usual easy-going mask and a faint, false smile before leaving the room—as though he were an entirely different man.