Back when Aki had just gotten pregnant, Logan had not paid much attention to the little one’s existence yet. At the ti, he had planned to keep everything simple: either call him Loga or Logi, and if he really was not satisfied, he would just follow the usual practice of Fire Wyverns—wait until the hatchling’s intelligence improved a bit and let them co up with their own nas. After all, for an ordinary Fire Wyvern, this was just a code na; even calling it “Roar” would be fine.
Even if that sounded extrely perfunctory, among monsters, only high-tier creatures like Fire Wyverns—those with a sense of family and a partial sense of group identity, and intelligence that actually passed the bar—would even do this.
But now—
Perhaps so ideas from his previous life were still influencing Logan, and because the Ancient Tree Fire Wyvern clan had already developed a unique, strictly hierarchical prototypical civilization, he now had the thought of giving his own offspring a proper na.
Besides, given the little one’s intelligence, he could easily understand the significance a na held for him.
“So what should I call him, then?”
After sailing through life smoothly for so many years, Logan once again felt that his brain was not up to the task. Lying on the ground, he stared up at the bright moon in the sky with his eyes wide open, feeling a bit resentful.
What happened to that super brain an Elder Dragon was supposed to have? Even soone like Mother Chaleos had a little sothing going on—so why didn’t he?
Logan subconsciously overlooked the fact that, in the entire world, Mother Chaleos was the only Chaleos who had forcibly mutated into a subspecies by popping drugs. It was just that Mother Chaleos’s usual behavior was far too unreliable, and that occasionally thin sense of presence always made people subconsciously ignore her.
Still, to be honest, when you put aside the matter of connotations, naming is actually mostly just a case of choice paralysis.
The next day, Logan, his eyes slightly bloodshot, ca over to the little one in the nest who was lying there with his mouth stretched wide in a yawn. Aki, who had just gotten up beside them, imdiately beca alert, afraid Logan would roll the little one back into a ball again.
“Roar!” (From now on, you’ll be called Loren!)
After agonizing over it all night, Logan had closed his eyes and jabbed at the list. In the end, out of a bunch of nas that fit this world’s culture fairly well, he picked this one, whose transliteration sounded sowhat similar to the Latin word for “laurel.”
When the little one saw Logan’s state, he had already been prepared to start wailing on the spot and accuse his old father of his atrocities right in front of his mother, but the sound stuck directly in his throat.
He… had a na now?
“Ooga?”
Clumsily imitating Logan’s roar, the little one tried again and again to say his own na in that tender voice.
As for Tonkotsu, who had co early in the morning to take over the shift, when he heard Logan’s words, he froze for a mont, then shot a look at another cat from the Fire Wyvern Guard Team. That cat understood at once, a delighted cat grin on his face as he dropped to all fours and dashed out of the nest.
Tonkotsu reached out and pressed his hand down hard to rub the head of the cat kitten beside him whose mottled coat, unlike the usual red-gray tones of normal Fire Wyvern Grimalkynes, was a bicolor of orange and red.
This was Tonkotsu’s child, nad Bunbun. Today he had brought the young Bunbun along because he wanted Bunbun to serve as the “young lord’s”—that is, little Loren’s—hunting training cat.
Having inherited more of his Felyne mother’s coat, Bunbun looked in a daze at his sturdy father, then finally let his gaze fall on little Loren, who was calling his own na over and over. Thinking of the bits of news he had heard in Blazefire Village over these past days, his eyes gradually grew resolute.
Very soon, little Loren’s na spread throughout the entire Ancient Tree by way of the cats’ mouths; even the Research Commission over there received the news.
Their level of attention toward Logan’s hatchling was no lower. As of now, the New World’s Research Commission and the Elder Dragons were becoming more and more tightly bound together. Although they all knew that Elder Dragons possessed extrely long lifespans and that, among Elder Dragons, Logan was still one of the youngest, it would still be an excellent thing to have one more Elder Dragon close to humans in the future.
In this way, the little one’s na was settled. For so reason, the Ancient Tree briefly entered into a few days of inexplicable excitent, as if there were a feeling that the world had been set at peace and the throne now had an heir.
This kind of atmosphere left Logan sowhat at a loss.
The strict rules of the Ancient Tree Fire Wyvern clan were already there, and Logan had no intention of changing them. Whether little Loren would stay in the Ancient Tree in the future was another matter. As for these cats getting excited, he let it be; after all, even if, in the future, the number of cats beca so great that so would have to be sent out, choosing to follow little Loren, who had grown up in the Ancient Tree environnt, would be one possible choice.
But what were those Fire Wyverns getting worked up about as well?
Still, there was one good thing: after little Loren had his own na, for so reason he finally started getting close to Logan. Even when he was rolled into a ball, he no longer tattled so casually. Instead, those big deep blue eyes of his would, at tis, fix tightly on Logan, and every so often, when Logan was listening to reports or issuing orders, he would spread those small wings of his and clumsily imitate Logan’s posture.
Just as Logan was entering a new stage of bonding, back behind Astera’s rear mountain, a Tempered Chaleos was sneaking around, following a scent and creeping its way over.
Just as it lifted its head to observe the surroundings—as if searching for sothing—the young Chaleos suddenly jumped out from the plantation.
A pair of large eyes strikingly similar to Mother Chaleos’s locked onto this uninvited guest, its invisibility lifting at once as its body rapidly shifted through different colors.
Don’t misunderstand—this was not anything like a peacock attracting a mate by displaying multicolored patterns.
This was a Chaleos issuing a warning to an unfamiliar mber of its own kind that had trespassed into its territory. The more simultaneous colors appeared on its body and the faster they shifted, the higher its alertness. When the many colors fixed into place, the next step would be to take the initiative and drive out this unfamiliar sa-species intruder.
Although a Chaleos did not have a particularly strong sense of territory, Astera counted as the young Chaleos’s most crucial core territory since it had grown up there. Aside from that old mother who bullied it constantly, even its brother who occasionally passed through while “repaying debts” would receive its warning—let alone this unfamiliar yet strong Chaleos.
The Tempered Chaleos tilted its head as it looked at the young Chaleos before it. The more it looked, the more familiar it seed, especially those eyes—seemingly dopey, yet inexplicably full of cleverness.
“Gwa!” (Oh no! Don’t tell this one is mine?)
As one of the representatives of parents who let go of their offspring after birth, Chaleos were not as twisted as Astalos when dealing with their young. They simply found raising offspring troubleso.
But this Tempered Chaleos had followed the scent of its long-unseen partner—whom it had not t in decades—all the way here. And now, seeing a young Chaleos who might actually be its offspring made its heart tighten in panic.
After all, if the young Chaleos had been living with Mother Chaleos—raised by her, even—then staying away was fine; but the mont it showed up in front of Mother Chaleos, wouldn’t it have to take on the responsibility of being the father?
Without the slightest hesitation, the mont this possibility crossed its mind, the Tempered Chaleos decisively turned around to leave.
But as a wave of mandragora fragrance drifted in, and in the Tempered Chaleos’s disbelieving gaze, a flicker of light and shadow flashed in the nearby underbrush. Mother Chaleos was there, staring at it with dead-fish eyes.
“How did I fail to notice her, gwa!!” The Tempered Chaleos could not believe it, its eyes bulging wide.
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I will post so extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> /TitoVillar
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