Dragon Dad

Whitebeard seemed entirely focused on drinking, paying no attention to his surroundings.

Or perhaps he had found the noise outside too annoying and had cast some sort of sound-muffling magic beforehand.

Only when he heard the telepathic message did he pull his gaze away from the wine bottle. He slowly raised his head, looking with some surprise at the Dwarven King, Herbert, who sat opposite him. His beard trembled slightly, but he quickly regained his composure and sent back a casual, one-on-one telepathic reply.

“Uh... You're here.”

To the onlookers, however, this moment looked like a silent clash of wills between two powerhouses before their drinking duel. On the surface, the newcomer, Whitebeard, seemed to have slightly faltered in his imposing aura.

The entire tavern instantly fell dead silent, as if everyone was terrified of disrupting their epic confrontation.

On the sly, however, the dwarves reached a tacit understanding. One by one, they stealthily pulled various ores from their storage rings, preparing to place some massive bets.

They were wagering on who had the greater tolerance: Dwarven King Herbert or the outsider, Whitebeard.

If they won, it would be cause for celebration. They wouldn't have to mine for days and could instead spend all their time lounging in the tavern, trading their winnings for red wine.

As for those who lost, the lucky ones would merely go bankrupt and be forced to return to the grueling grind of the mines.

The unlucky ones, however, might have already accepted forging commissions.

Without the necessary ores, they wouldn't be able to deliver their orders anytime soon.

To avoid paying breach-of-contract penalties, these unfortunate dwarves, aside from working miserable overtime in the mines, might also resort to finding a few gentle, burly dwarven “brothers” to provide some warm, “heartfelt” services.

This was their way of earning enough ores to fill the gaps in their forging materials.

In layman's terms, they were selling their bodies to clear their debts.

For certain unlucky dwarves who frequently lost their shirts, this had already become a routine part of life.

In a way, this could be seen as promoting the circulation of wealth within the Dwarven Empire, making an indelible contribution to its economic development.

Dwarven King Herbert was, of course, well aware of this utterly shameless behavior.

Thus, as the crowd of dwarves placed their secret bets, he casually pulled a large chunk of raw mithril ore from his storage ring and tossed it forward, placing a wager of his own.

With his eyes narrowed into slits, he raised his bottle and chugged the bright red liquid, asking the white-bearded dwarf sitting opposite him:

“Let me guess, Christine. Did you go looking for trouble with that dragoness, only to get thrashed?”

Upon hearing Herbert's telepathic message, the white-bearded dwarf known as Christine froze mid-sip. As if triggered by a deeply traumatic memory, he shuddered involuntarily, spilling a good amount of wine all over his beard.

He then slammed his wine bottle onto the stone table with a heavy thud.

Spiderweb-like cracks spread out in concentric circles from where the bottle met the stone.

Seeing this, Herbert knew he had hit the nail on the head. He set down his own bottle, wiped the wine from his beard, and sent another telepathic message:

“What were you thinking? Why would you go looking for trouble with her of all people?”

“Take it from me, you can't force these things.”

“Besides, that ‘melon’ is harder than solid ore. You can't even twist it off—”

“Herbert, you don't understand!” Seemingly annoyed by the Dwarven King's nagging, Christine cut him off sharply via telepathy and continued:

“I didn't do this just for myself. I went to demand an explanation for my children!”

“My poor two children... I can't even begin to imagine what they've been through all these years! They... they actually ended up in a godforsaken place like the God-Forsaken Land! And they were even attacked right at their doorstep by weak humans!”

“I can't bear to think about how much they've suffered!”

“Damn that Sylvely! How could she treat our children like this!”

As he spoke, Christine actually clutched his head and began to weep.

He wept so pitifully, like a delicate flower in the rain, a sight that would move anyone to tears...

Involuntarily, his mind drifted back to decades ago, to those painful memories he wished he could bury forever.

Back then, Christine was still a young, wild, and kind-hearted dragon who yearned for poetry and distant lands.

Because he had been found and raised by an ancient silver dragon who loved to travel, his alignment had always leaned toward lawful good.

At the same time, his hobby matched his silver dragon mother's: he loved wandering around and traveling the world.

During his youth, Christine left his mother's protection and embarked on his own journey.

He never expected that, midway through his journey, he would cross paths with an adult black dragoness in heat, who pinned him to the ground without a word.

For months, he was subjected to her forced violations...

Then, just when Christine thought he was finally free to leave, the dragoness did the unexpected and imprisoned him.

She subjected him to regular humiliation and torment.

And her methods only grew increasingly depraved.

From then on, Christine was reduced to nothing more than a tool for her desires.

This ordeal continued until he reached his hundredth year and matured into adulthood. Possessing some strength to resist, he finally seized his chance on a dark, windy night when the cruel black dragoness was distracted preparing magic items, quietly slipping away.

That time, Christine fled all the way to the Dwarven Empire. Seeing that the black dragoness was not pursuing him, he breathed a sigh of relief. Overwhelmed by exhaustion, he disguised himself and entered a tavern to drown his sorrows.

He wanted to bury his lost youth and innocence.

However, after drinking for several days and nights and finally calming down, he realized that everything he owned had been plundered by that dragoness.

Consequently, he had no money to pay his tab.

He had briefly considered giving in to his draconic nature, deciding that in for a penny, in for a pound, he would just make a run for it.

But... Christine never expected that a tiny tavern would harbor a Legendary powerhouse. Before he could even make it out the door, he was caught and thoroughly beaten, even losing two of his teeth.

Although he later bonded over drinks and became friends with the Dwarven King who had thrashed him, slowly pulling himself out of his despair with the King's guidance...

The massive, indelible shadow cast by that black dragoness still drove Christine to resolutely leave this continent of heartbreak.

It was only recently, upon receiving news that he might have unexpectedly fathered two children, that he rushed back in a hurry.

Yet, upon his arrival, he heard that his children had almost been slaughtered by the forces of a human duchy. Unable to contain himself, he went to demand answers from their mother.

And the result...

He was pinned to the ground and humiliated for several days all over again.

“I don't understand!” Christine transmitted. “It's one thing to be cruel to me, but why must she treat our children so ruthlessly? How old are they even? What if they ran into danger? I really can't imagine how miserable their lives must have been all these years. In that barren land, they probably had to grow up eating dirt!”

“Uh...” Herbert stared intently at the adult white dragon before him, who was disguised as a dwarf and chugging wine like there was no tomorrow. After a moment's thought, he decided against saying out loud, “Aren't chromatic dragons supposed to be like that anyway?”