David then remembered the terrifying habits of Red Dragons.
More precisely, for the long-lived Chromatic Dragons, breeding offspring was a losing proposition. Blue Dragons were an exception; due to their gregarious nature and communal rearing, they gained considerable returns. However, other Chromatic Dragons generally lacked any instinct to nurture their young.
Even with the binding oath to Tiamat, the Mother of Evil Dragons, most Evil Dragons would only raise their hatchlings to adolescence before finding an excuse to drive them from the nest. The entire process was markedly perfunctory. As long as the hatchling's vital signs remained stable, that was considered sufficient.
This forced many hatchlings to learn to fend for themselves from a young age, often risking their lives to do so. Some Evil Dragons, when truly desperate from starvation, would even resort to eating dirt.
This was why the mortality rate of Chromatic Dragons was ridiculously high. However, those who managed to survive to maturity were, without exception, infamous tyrants who dominated their territories.
These were still the more disciplined adult and ancient dragons who had learned some measure of restraint. Younger mother dragons who casually abandoned their eggs under any pretext were far more common.
In such a situation... what? The Dragon Eggs were stolen? Is there such a stroke of luck?!
That was the genuine reaction of most Chromatic Dragons.
It was similar to how cats become confused by kittens bearing an unfamiliar scent. But unlike cats, which, limited by their intelligence, rely primarily on scent to identify their own offspring, for Evil Dragons, the thought process was different. Heh, you've already left my nest. Who knows if you've been swapped out? What if you're a spy sent by the Metal Dragons? Even if our sovereign Tiamat herself were here, how could you prove you're my offspring, hmm? And since you're not my offspring, why should I continue to fulfill the obligation of raising you?
It was precisely because of this appalling habit of Evil Dragons that generations of Dragon Egg thieves had passed down a valuable lesson learned through blood and tears: Steal all the Dragon Eggs you want, but never touch the treasure!
That was a challenge reserved only for Dragon Slayers. It was rumored that some particularly paranoid and idle mother dragons would even place traceable arcane sigils on every single Gold Coin in their hoard. Anyone daring to steal a dragon's treasure should be prepared to be hunted for centuries.
As for Dragon Eggs? Most Evil Dragons didn't care. They would continue to eat and sleep as usual. Not throwing a celebratory feast that very night to mark their early liberation from parental duties was already considered showing sufficient respect to Lady Tiamat.
Of course, if they happened to stumble upon the crime in progress, they certainly wouldn't mind adding a few new trophies to their collection—a bit of post-meal exercise, so to speak.
And at this very moment, the extremely unlucky David and his companions had just stumbled right into this doting Red Dragon Mother.
Yes! Thanks to these damned Drow, I, a son of a Red Dragon, am now effectively unregistered—a non-entity in draconic records!
Upon this realization, David was so furious he wanted to unearth and obliterate the ancestral graves of these Drow!
[Wrath].
However, the inherited draconic knowledge soon 'reminded' him: Drow Elves had a long-standing tradition of juniors overthrowing their superiors. Most Drow Matriarchs successfully usurped by their own daughters met grisly ends, let alone being laid to rest peacefully.
"..." David's frustration intensified as he failed to achieve any mental victory to soothe his temper.
[Wrath].
Damn it! I don't need you to remind me! How about showing some of those earlier reactions?!
What frustrated him even more was that, despite his intense anger, his [Wrath] Authority remained as stagnant as a pool of dead water. It declared its presence but showed no sign of actual effect.
This is a death sentence! David felt as though he were wearing a mask of anguish.
[Wrath].
As the Red Dragon Mother, prey clutched in her jaws, drew closer to her nest, the thought that he had just transmigrated only to be immediately devoured and returned to the earth as dung fueled David's righteous indignation and deep resentment.
[Wrath].
Enough already!
David now realized that ever since transmigrating into a Red Dragon, perhaps due to some adrenaline-like hormonal influence, he didn't need to work himself up. His temper was naturally explosive, like a powder keg packed with TNT, ready to ignite at the slightest provocation.
While this might sometimes provide an extra spark of 'courage' for certain decisions, at other critical moments, it was downright fatal.
Just like this one.
In this life-or-death crisis, David, feeling like an ant on a hot griddle, abandoned hope in his unreliable 'Authority.' He frantically scanned his surroundings, desperately searching for any chance of survival.
When his gaze swept over a pile of 'volcanic ash' exuding a familiar scent, his eyes suddenly lit up. His expression became resolute, filled with grim determination.
"Leader! What should we do?"
A Drow, clinging to her last shred of hope, looked towards their leader, instantly drawing the gazes of all the other Drow. But the answer she received was as despairing as she had feared:
"Our luck is abysmal. Follow the contingency plan: split up! Save whoever you can. We'll regroup at Dekgar Port."
"...Yes!"
Some Drow, having already anticipated this outcome, dropped David and the other Dragon Eggs and scattered in all directions almost the instant their leader finished speaking.
In such a dire situation, every second was precious. Who had time to care about a Red Hatchling? Such a heavy and troublesome burden would only get them killed.
They knew, of course, that their two legs were no match for wings. But they only needed to be faster than their comrades!
The Drow Mage, lacking in both physical strength and stamina, watched in desperation as her comrades fled, each one faster than the last. She was almost about to wet herself, her only remaining hope pinned on the Drow leader.
If only the leader still considered her useful on the run!
But the Drow leader didn't even glance at her. She reached down, intending to grab the dragon's tail and flee, but her hand grasped only air...
"Huh?"
Turning her head, she witnessed a scene that left her dumbfounded. The Red Hatchling, previously tied to a deadwood stake, had exploited their panic to move about a hundred meters away. Now, like a Volcano Worm, it was burrowing its head into the mound of Crimson Ash, its body wriggling incessantly.
This little fellow actually... No, he's hiding from the mother dragon!
Indeed, she saw the Red Hatchling arching its body and wriggling deeper into the Crimson Ash. The Drow leader's eyes lit up; she finally seemed to understand how that High Elf, long ago, had discovered the value of Red Dragon droppings.
With that realization, she dashed forward and, with a dive, plunged into the pile after him.
"Leader! You..."
The Drow Mage, having witnessed the entire scene, was utterly aghast. But with the deadly Dragon Mother drawing ever closer, she quickly suppressed her revulsion, pinched her nose, squeezed her eyes shut, and dived in as well.
Meanwhile, David, who had mentally prepared himself, was surprised to find that upon burrowing into the pile of dragon dung, he didn't encounter the expected overpowering stench. Instead, a familiar, almost comforting, smell of sulfur filled his nostrils.
It was warm inside, and the familiar scent actually gave him the unsettling illusion of being back 'home'...
Damn it! I'm not a Dung Beetle! David quickly banished the disturbing thought.
However, the faint, intermittent scratching sounds against his scales told him that this dragon dung heap was likely teeming with nature's scavengers, much like Dung Beetles. It made David reflect on the great circle of life, where one creature's end could sustain many others.
But before he could finish his musings, he felt a strong shove from behind. Sensing a humanoid form colliding with his rear, David instantly knew a Drow had followed him in. His just-abated anger flared anew:
I've hidden in a damn dung heap, and they still pursue me?!
[Wrath].
David, still bound by iron chains, arched his back and kicked out fiercely. However, the Drow—whether she had anticipated his reaction or simply possessed exceptionally quick reflexes—grabbed his hips with both hands, pressing herself tightly against his rear. No matter how hard David thrashed, the incredibly agile Drow Elf clung to him like a shadow.
The space within the dragon dung pile was already cramped; it couldn't withstand much of their thrashing. Any more struggling, and the whole thing might collapse. David knew that if their pointless struggle continued, they would likely both end up as dragon food. He was just considering how to suggest a temporary truce when the Drow behind him spoke first:
"Stop struggling! You don't want your mother to find you and turn you into another part of this Crimson Ash, do you?"
Damn, she knows about this too!
David was startled, but then he reasoned it was probably normal for someone who had been surreptitiously stealing Dragon Eggs for years.
But since she had been the first to yield, he felt he had every right to take a firm stance:
"Hmph! I'd rather die a noble death than lose my freedom... HISSS!"