Chapter 55: Dragon Dad 25

Flying through the thick clouds, passing through the iridescent halo.

Dragon Island remained the same, with azure skies and a deep blue sea. Countless white dragon bone islands, which nurtured flowers, trees, and grass, were half-submerged in the water.

In the past, this place had day and night just like the outside world. But as the number of dragons dwindled, the balance was lost, and night disappeared. Now, it was forever daytime, unchanged.

The perpetual brightness made it hard to feel the passage of time.

Qian liked it here. There was none of the tense atmosphere of an approaching storm like in the outside world. Everything here was peaceful.

The ice dragon soaked in the water for a while, washing away the colors on his body. Qian’s drawings had blurred into smudges after so long, making him look quite dirty.

After washing, he returned to the shore, and Qian ran up and down around him, pointing and shouting, “Panda! It’s a panda!”

“No, it’s a penguin!”

“It’s… it’s an orca!”

The child named every black-and-white animal she could think of.

At this moment, Lacia was practically half black and half white. The contrast was amusing—his belly, tail, and paws had all turned black, with only a part of his back still silver-white, and even his chin had a black patch.

Lacia lay down on the soft, plush grass, watching the child’s delighted laughter, and his eyes curved into a smile as well.

Feeling lazy, he played with her for a while before curling up into a small mountain and falling asleep.

Qian ran off to play by herself. She found the eggs she had gathered last time, flipped them over, and decorated them with flowers.

Every now and then, she would return to check on her old father, making sure he wasn’t secretly sneaking off to work.

Lacia lifted his tail to cover his eyes, as if the light was too bright. Qian thought for a moment, then ran into the bushes and broke off a tree branch, sticking it into the ground beside Lacia’s head.

With her little hands gripping the branch firmly, it immediately began to grow, forming a canopy over Lacia’s head.

So, when Lacia opened his eyes, he found his head trapped inside a tangle of tree branches. The twisted limbs had locked his head in place.

Lacia: “…”

He had no choice but to shift into human form and wriggle his head out of the tree cage.

After “showing her filial piety,” the child ran off to play in the ocean.

The seawater here was very shallow. Near the island’s edge, it was even shallower. Qian stood on the white dragon bone claws beneath the water, with most of her body still exposed above the surface.

Her little dress floated on the water like a flower bud, surrounded by the wildflowers she had picked, swaying gently with the waves.

Qian stretched both hands into the water, seemingly fishing for something.

Lacia watched as she sometimes pulled up a stone and other times caught a small fish.

However, those “small fish” weren’t real fish. Like the butterflies and insects on the islands, they were tiny creatures formed from the scattered souls of deceased dragons.

Whenever she lifted them out of the water, the fish would turn into a puddle of water in her hands and flow back into the sea.

The child made a confused sound and reached down again.

Lacia landed beside her, stepping lightly on the water’s surface.

“Qian, do you want to go swimming?”

He didn’t transform into a dragon, as his true form was far too large to swim in such shallow waters.

Qian started kicking in the water. In her past life, she had only learned how to paddle like a frog. As a dragon in this life, she was naturally gifted in the water, but her human form was too small. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t outswim her old father.

After a futile chase, she decided to cheat. With a splash, she transformed into a long, slender azure dragon and instantly surged ahead.

Lacia laughed as she overtook him, reaching out to stroke the scales and fur along her back.

“Qian has grown a little more.”

At her current size, if she got any bigger, she wouldn’t be able to swim in this shallow sea anymore.

But compared to the towering islands around them, she was still too small.

The water was full of small fish. They didn’t like getting close to Lacia, instead gathering around the little azure dragon, wagging their tails as they swam beside her.

Qian turned her head to check if Lacia was keeping up. Noticing the fish around her, she opened her mouth wide and tried to bite them. She was sure she had scooped up some fish, but when she focused on the sensation, her mouth was filled only with water.

Confused, the child kept making puzzled noises.

Lacia didn’t explain. Instead, he joined in the act. “What’s going on? Why can’t you catch the fish, Qian? Try again.”

As expected, Qian attempted it two more times. Finally, she glanced at her father’s amused expression and realized something was off. With a snort from her nose, she sped away.

Beyond the dragon bone islands, the sea stretched endlessly.

Suddenly, Lacia shifted into his dragon form. As he lay down, the water barely reached past his claws.

Resting his head on his paws, he quietly gazed at the distant sky.

The waves from his transformation had splashed over Qian’s head, so she turned back and swam toward him.

“When I was little, Dragon Island was just like the outside world. It had sunsets and nights. The sun would sink in that direction, turning the sea into a dazzling golden color. The golden ocean would slowly shift to orange, pink, and deep blue—that was the color of dusk.”

“At night, countless stars twinkled, and even the small fish beneath the water would glow, like the bioluminescent tides outside.”

“I wish you could have seen how beautiful Dragon Island used to be.”

Lacia licked the child’s little head.

Dragon Island was vast. Each one had a different structure. Besides the plant-covered surface, there was also the dragon’s underbelly, which was an adventurous place for Qian—full of mysterious caves for her to explore.

Sometimes, she would even find treasure chests and all sorts of valuable items inside those “caves.”

Some were treasures dragons had hidden beneath themselves before death, while others were things they had swallowed but failed to digest. They lay buried under moss and vines, concealed beneath the white “stones.”

Lacia didn’t stop her from rummaging through the bones of their kin.

Dragons didn’t have as many posthumous taboos as humans did. They were content to become part of their homeland, transforming into islands for young dragons to play on.

After all, when they were young, they had played the same way.

Some dragons even deliberately collected special plants before they died, hoping their remains would nourish them and attract young dragons to play there.

Among all the Dragon Islands, the most popular with young dragons was the skeleton of the largest ancient dragon—the place where Qian had once received a blessing.

When Lacia was little, he had loved playing there too. At its peak, every young dragon on Dragon Island would gather there.

Life continued peacefully for a while, but eventually, Qian began to miss the outside world, longing to see the teachers and students who often played with her.

She asked her father when they could return.

“Qian, do you prefer staying here or living with them?”

“Wherever Dad goes, I’ll go too.”

The dragon licked her head reassuringly. Recently, he had taken to licking her a lot, as if she were still a freshly hatched, speechless hatchling.

“I really hope to see you grow up… Grow up quickly, my child.”

On a day as calm as any other, Qian was lying on the grass, painting patterns on the dead eggs, when the dragon beside her suddenly lifted his head.

He sensed something. His violet eyes locked onto a distant point.

He stared intently for a while, then lowered his gaze to Qian.

“I need to leave for a while. Qian, wait for me here.”

Holding her paintbrush, Qian looked up and blinked, nodding blankly.

She didn’t realize what was happening—or what was about to happen.

The dragon soared into the sky, breaking through the white clouds and the rainbow halo, piercing into the graying clouds above.

On the land below, many places were shrouded in a layer of gray haze.

In one direction, where the cracks were too many, the ground had completely collapsed.

The collapsed area was vast, and amid the shaking mountains and trembling earth, countless people were wailing.

In the face of nature, humans were so insignificant. Even great magicians like Headmaster Ude and the others could not resist this terrifying force.

Around them were countless young magicians, each with expressions of sorrow and despair.

They had been so close to success. They had saved so many people and settled them here. But why had things only gotten worse?

Smoke and dust rose, the ground trembled, and the desperate people saw the familiar silhouette of a dragon in the sky.

Qian sat on the grass, swinging her legs, and looked up at the sky.

She ran down the island to play in the water, touch stones, and catch fish, then looked up at the sky again.

She hid inside the dragon island, silently counting, but eventually fell asleep. When she woke up, she poked her head out from the gaps between the bones to look at the sky.

She never saw the dragon’s figure.

She didn’t know how much time had passed when she finally heard cries coming from the distance. She immediately ran out.

A black dot was flying toward her.

It was flying very slowly, sometimes high, sometimes low. As it got closer, it dropped lower and lower until it finally fell into the shallow sea not far away.

Qian ran to his side and saw that the silver-white dragon had almost completely turned black. He had shed many scales, his once smooth body now mottled, with some areas even revealing corroded and blurred flesh.

He carried a terrible smell.

For a moment, Qian dared not approach. She shrank her hands back and watched him from a distance.

“Qian, come here,” the dragon said, tilting his head slightly, his voice low and deep.

Qian’s large, round eyes shimmered with tears as she moved closer to his head.

“Did I scare you, my child? I really didn’t want you to see this, but I have to say goodbye.”

“I’m sorry that I have to leave you before you grow up, but as your father, I still think early love is bad.”

“Don’t be afraid, Qian. My body will remain here and become an island, your nest. My soul will always be here to accompany you.”

“From now on, sleep on my head, play hide-and-seek in my belly, and use my bones to play.”

“Waaah—” A cry louder and more chaotic than ever before burst from the child’s mouth.

As Qian sobbed, she saw transparent tears also welling up in the dragon’s massive purple eyes.

He looked at her sorrowfully, full of reluctance.

Qian’s face was flushed from crying. She reached out and wiped at the dragon’s eyes, trying to dry his tears.

Her action made Lacia feel even worse. The dragon’s tears fell into the seawater and turned into glowing little fish.

Then, those giant eyes slowly closed.

Qian lay against his mouth, trying to push up the heavy eyelids with her hands.

The flowing seawater beneath her feet grew still, the fish stopped swimming, and the wind no longer blew.

【Host has completed the basic task.】

【Target’s emotional value is full. He is willing to let you inherit his fate and life. Please choose—】

Qian ignored the flickering blue light. Tears fell from her eyes, and she transformed into a small azure dragon, coiling around the now-black frost dragon.

Countless specks of cyan light emerged from her body, turning the surrounding sea into a dreamy blue.

The wind began to blow again, and the seawater started to flow once more.

The vibrant azure color spread outward.

She did not yet know how to properly use her power. Right now, she had only one thought—

Come back to life. Open your eyes again.

System 65 spoke in disappointment as it watched.

【What a pity. Every time she turns into a child, she refuses to cooperate.】

【Host has completed the basic task. Additional fate points: 0. Preparing to detach from this world—】

Lacia opened his eyes.

He felt the wounds on his body healing, the filthy magic dissipating.

Something was tickling his nose—it was the mane on the child’s back.

The little azure dragon’s body curled around him, but it only covered a small part of him.

His vitality was recovering, while hers was fading. She had overdrawn her own life.

“Qian…”

“Daddy, here’s a flower for you.”

She often ran around Dragon Island, picking flowers and mischievously placing them on his nose.

As Lacia fully awakened, restored by vitality, it was as if he could still hear the child’s laughter in his ears.

He had been unconscious for a long time due to his severe injuries. The little azure dragon had already transformed, like the other dragons, into a small white island.

Flowers had even begun to grow on her back, swaying right under his nose.

“Daddy, here’s a flower for you!”

She was a long, small island—just big enough to be his pillow.

The dragon’s mournful cries echoed for a long time, even the surrounding wind carrying sorrow.

Traces of green magic still lingered in the air.

It was only when he sensed a new, weak vitality on the silent Dragon Island that Lacia slowly lifted his head.

A white hem brushed over green grass and white flowers. Lacia stopped at the grassy nest where Qian used to play.

There, a dozen dragon eggs lay.

These dragon eggs, which should have perished, had regained their vitality. He could hear the slow, recovering heartbeats within them.

Like him, they had come back to life.

Lacia touched the eggs’ painted surfaces.

Turning one over, he saw the other side bore a smiley face.

Curved eyes, a curved mouth.

Lacia gazed at the smiley face and, after a moment, curved his own eyes and mouth into a not-so-pretty smile.

“My child, I still haven’t… seen you grow up.”

Yu Qian sat cross-legged in the system space, one hand on her knee, the other supporting her forehead.

【Host, you don’t have to resent me. I’m doing this for your own good. If you keep insisting on this path, you will never escape the system. You’ll only deplete your soul through endless cycles, until nothing remains.】

【So, in the next world, don’t be so stubborn. Think more about yourself.】

【Also, the first three worlds are the most crucial evaluation period. If you remain this passive in the third world, the fourth world will trigger a special program.】

Yu Qian habitually ignored the system’s veiled threats. After calming down, she started the process of shaping her new body.

The formula remained the same, but at the last moment of setting her parameters, she recalled the regrets of the two fathers from the previous worlds and slightly adjusted her age.

Even if they couldn’t see it, she would grow up.

(End of Arc)