The darkness had been absolute, a heavy shroud that felt like the weight of a mountain. For a dragon whose lifespan was measured in eras, sleep was the only thing that felt truly eternal. He had drifted into the black with the rhythmic heat of magma flowing beneath his obsidian scales. He was the Calamity. He was the end of kingdoms.
Then, the world shattered.
There was no pain, only a sudden, jarring absence. It felt as if his soul had been yanked through a needle's eye.
'What is this cold?'
The thought was sluggish, echoing in a mind that felt far too small. He tried to lash his tail, to shatter the stone of his cavern and roar until the sky bled, but nothing moved. His limbs felt like leaden weights. His fire, the eternal furnace in his chest that could melt fortress walls, was nothing but a flickering spark.
'My head... where is my body?'
He forced his eyes open.
The world was a blurry mess of light and shadow. Instead of the jagged geometry of a dragon's lair, he saw soft fabrics. Instead of the smell of sulfur and ancient gold, there was the cloying, sweet scent of lavender and milk.
A face appeared above him. It wasn't the face of a God or a Dragon-Slayer. It was a woman. She had long, ink-black hair that fell over her shoulders and eyes that held a warmth he found utterly repulsive.
"My little Hui," she whispered, her voice vibrating through his entire, tiny frame. "You're finally awake. Don't cry, Mommy is here."
He felt a surge of pure, unadulterated loathing.
'Mommy? You dare address me with such filth, human? I have razed cities older than your entire bloodline.'
He tried to command her to kneel, to burn, to do anything. Instead, a pathetic, high-pitched wail erupted from his throat. He was screaming, but not with the force of a gale—it was the sound of a lung-filled infant.
The woman smiled, unbothered, and pulled him closer to her chest. The indignity was unbearable. He was being cradled. He, who had slept on beds of emeralds and bones, was being wrapped in wool.
'I will kill you. I will kill everyone in this room the moment I find my talons.'
As the thought crossed his mind, a sharp ping resonated in his skull. A translucent blue pane of glass manifested in the air, hovering just inches from his nose.
[System Initialized]
[Host: Song Hui]
[Race: Human (Mortal)]
[Condition: Infancy (Malnourished)]
Song Hui stared at the floating script. The letters were etched in light, mocking his predicament.
'System? Song Hui?'
He looked at his hands—or what should have been his hands. Instead of six-inch talons capable of rending steel, he saw two fleshy, pink stubs flailing uselessly in the air. He wasn't just in a new place; he was in a new skin. A weak, fragile, human skin.
The woman, his "mother," began to rock him gently. Through the window of the modest wooden room, he could see the courtyard of what looked like a minor manor. People were bustling about in simple tunics, carrying water and swords that looked like toothpicks to him.
He wasn't in his dungeon anymore. He wasn't the strongest monster in the world. He was a second son in a "lower family" called Song, and according to the blue screen, he was currently struggling just to stay warm.
'Stop that! Unhand me, human! I will find whoever did this, and I will show them why dragons don't believe in mercy!'
He punctuated the threat with what he thought was a soul-shattering glare. In reality, he just looked like an angry, red-faced potato struggling with a heavy diaper.
The woman didn't tremble; she just cooed and poked his cheek. The Great Calamity was hungry, and for the first time in ten thousand years, he couldn't just swallow a bull whole. He was at the mercy of a milk bottle.