Spring in the northern Old Continent remained bitterly cold. A mere passing of dark clouds brought falling snow, burying the traces of the forest skirmish from a few days prior.
However, the pit that had once been a battlefield was somewhat peculiar.
The snowflakes often melted as soon as they landed.
This abnormal phenomenon was visibly spreading to the surrounding area.
In just a few days, it grew into a stream, converging and forming a natural hot spring that steamed with heat.
Unknown to all, the heat source was a Red Dragon hiding beneath the earth.
As David entered a deep sleep, his Dragon Might receded, attracting many warmth-loving and bold animals, like macaques and brown bears, to linger.
But David could never have imagined it. Despite having devoured eight obese individuals in one go, his physique had reverted to its original state within mere days, even showing signs of continuing to waste away. His stomach rumbled, demanding to start its shift, heralding another day of non-stop toil.
If it were another Hatchling, like a White Hatchling Dragon, for example, hoarding enough fat from such a feast would allow it to hibernate straight from the start of that spring until the next. Then, it would wake up to lick the moss off the iron ores at its nest's entrance. It would barely survive like this until the spring of the year after next. This would continue until the five-year period was up, when it officially became a young dragon. Just then, its mother would go into heat and kick it out of the nest to fend for itself.
If David, who was starting to show signs of awakening due to hunger, had the leisure to flip through his Dragon heritage—which was practically brand new, as if fresh from the factory—he would probably realize...
He was very likely ill.
And not just slightly ill, at that.
Its name was 'Starving, Starving, Starving, Starving'—no, that wasn't it. The disease was called Endless Gluttony.
It presented symptoms similar to hyperthyroidism in humans and could be triggered by an episode of binge-eating.
But because the difference in species and the level of hormonal imbalance were not on the same scale, dragons afflicted with Gluttony often exhibited an excessive appetite and became exceptionally irritable.
Most afflicted dragons died young from the exhaustion of constant hunting and nearly endless battles. Since they typically inhabited remote and desolate wildlands, their overall impact was limited. But there were always exceptions.
Turning the pages of the Old Continent's history, one often finds traces of these mobile catastrophes. Almost without exception, they were Red Dragons.
Some remained enraged for centuries, instantly becoming ranters. They would spew their fury from the material plane, along the Styx River, all the way to Barto Hell, and then to the Blood War battlefield. If a Teleportation Gate to the upper planes could be opened for them, they would leap to the Heaven of Seven Hills to vent even more.
Others would become gluttonous recluses, sinking to the bottom of volcanic magma pools. They would eat their way through the strata, eventually crashing into the Gloomy Region and treating the denizens of the deep to a meteorite shower from above.
But without exception, those who suffered from Endless Gluttony all initially felt insatiable hunger. Driven by such hunger, they would continuously hunt to satisfy their eternally unsatisfied and restless greedy stomachs.
Although chewing on rocks could maintain vital signs, it couldn't quench the body's craving for nutrients such as protein. Nor could it fill the dragon-heart-searing hunger.
Thus, few dragons sat and starved to death upon falling ill. Even the White Dragon, lowest among the five chromatic dragons, knew when hungry to crack open the ice and catch a few fish to fill its belly.
And perhaps having experienced the state of a hungry ghost, where one feels on the verge of starving to death at any second, David—who, in his semi-conscious state, had already chewed up the Pilgrim Wu Jing-style pendant hanging around his neck as if it were a sugar pill—felt that the current level of hunger...
Seemed... well, manageable.
David felt he could sleep a while longer.
He kicked his own chin repeatedly with his powerful hind legs—his head bobbing like a training dummy under a professional boxer's assault—much like a ragdoll cat in a cat café that was due for its shift but unwilling to get off its scratching board. With a final, decisive tilt of his trembling head, he successfully extended his previous beautiful dream.
In that dream, there were no worries about the future, no pressure from KPIs, no troubles with personal relationships, and no sorrows stemming from loneliness. Only the gentle evening breeze brushing his cheeks and the bright, warm sunshine.
In front of him were no longer those numerous yet ultimately converging tracks, but a boundless wilderness, an endless sky, and an even more vast and sparkling starry expanse.
David smacked his lips, shifted his position, arched his body, and stuffed his tail into his mouth, sucking noisily on it. Sometimes, he couldn't help but bite down, and then, as if it pained him, he would quickly soothe it with a couple of licks.
So the cycle repeated.
He was like a shrimp, completely flattened in a steamer. Had there been a marinated quail egg nestled in his embrace, it would have been perfectly delightful.
Of course, that could only exist in a dream.
And he slept soundly through it. Despite his stomach twisting and turning in protest, he still slept, his snores shaking the heavens.
Who knows how long it was before his greedy guts seemed to have hungered past their limit, calming down considerably. And with the loss of continuous food stimulus, his gastric glands also ceased their secretions.
This draconic disease, born of gluttony, which had caused countless tragedies and natural disasters...
Healed without medicine.
It turned out that Endless Gluttony could self-correct through the dragon's own robust immune system, as long as one could endure the initial, maddening hunger that drove dragons to insanity. Even if this was potentially a genetic issue at the DNA level.
It was a shame that he, lost in sweet dreams, would most likely never get the chance to know. And the secrets of dragon pathology would likely only be revealed many years later, when other races established a systematic field of endocrinological medicine. Or, in this world suffused with gods and magic, it might remain buried forever.
There would always be dragons afflicted with Endless Gluttony, driven by hunger, to successively join that never-ending burning crusade.
Of course, even if David knew, it was doubtful he would have the inclination to undertake the thankless effort of announcing it far and wide. After all, among dragons, only Silver Dragons seemed to overflow with a justice and kindness so abundant it felt like it needed to be immediately expressed. Other, unafflicted dragons would merely mock him for his foolishness. As for those genuinely suffering from the affliction, they would likely see him as a fresh delivery, ready to be devoured on sight.
Unless the King of the North Wind pitied all living beings and bestowed upon him a 'curse'.
Otherwise, it was better to let the truth stay buried in his belly for a while longer.
Just as his illness had been forcefully overcome by a procrastination he couldn't shake even after transmigration, a bizarre scene unfolded in the hot spring above:
Macaques and brown bears, which had initially only come to drink, were now peacefully soaking together in the same pool.
And each time, they stayed longer and longer.
Their movements became increasingly lethargic.
Gradually, even the effort to rise became too much to bother with.
In these 'natural' springs amongst the woods, with Crimson Ash as their base, they lay completely flat.
Until their bellies shriveled from hunger, drool dripping from the corners of their mouths.
In the end, they simply stopped breathing.
One by one, they became fixed in time, satisfied smiles on their faces.
If past patterns held, their bodies would quickly putrefy, attracting flies and vultures.
But it was as if the cell-level decomposers—enzymes and bacteria—had all gone on strike.
The chemical... pro... cess... that should have produced large amounts of hydrogen sulfide, ammonia, methane, and amines...
also...came...to...a...halt.
Authority—Sloth.
In this moment, the world, along with him,
embraced indolence.