Rebirth as a Time Dragon: A DND Chronicle

Sulia glared at Garon, but upon seeing his fists twitching with eagerness, a sudden headache made her shrink back. Yet, she mustered her courage and haughtily huffed, "The things I, Sulia, have lost, I will one day take back with my own hands."

"Garon, don't get too smug."

Just as Garon was about to return a gem to the White Dragon Mother, having previously stolen one from her, he heard this and swiftly pocketed the gem again.

"I'll be waiting for that day to come, but remember, you will bear the consequences."

Garon did not believe that any creature he had surpassed could ever overtake him again.

This was the confidence of a Time Dragon.

As time passed, the gap between the White Dragon Mother and him would only widen.

Reluctantly, under Garon's gaze, Sulia gathered the tusks and magic ice crystals and slowly moved towards the edge of the dragon lair.

As she reached the edge and gazed at the landscape that no longer belonged to her, she couldn't help but look back at Garon with a trace of resentment.

Garon, busy admiring his loot, paid no further attention to the White Dragon Mother.

With a snort, Sulia flapped her wings and flew out of the lair, her mood worsening upon seeing the three young dragons waiting outside in the blizzard.

They reminded her that Garon was her firstborn.

"To think my first clutch would produce such a dragon."

"I never want hatchlings again!"

Sulia firmly thought to herself.

Initially, laying dragon eggs was merely fun for her, but when the dragonlings hatched and demanded her time and energy, she grew impatient and regretted her hasty decision.

Although adult dragons cannot completely control reproduction according to their wishes, if they are unwilling, the likelihood of pregnancy is frighteningly low.

However, most true dragons bear offspring during their adult or mature years.

With age, as dragons grow older, the likelihood of conceiving plummets dramatically, and wanting offspring becomes a matter of luck.

Irritated, she motioned for the three young dragons to follow her.

Quickly, the silhouette of one large and three small white dragons faded into the blizzard, leaving Garon's territory.

Inside the Ice Cliff Dragon Lair, Garon's gaze shifted, and he closed his eyes.

In his mind, a tiny point of light moved rapidly.

That point indicated the White Dragon Mother's current location.

Although she had lost her territory, she was not aimless, seeming to have a plan, moving purposefully toward the northeast.

Garon was aware of her movements because he had casually placed a time mark on the tip of her tail, difficult to detect.

Opening his eyes, Garon felt the fading presence of the White Dragon Mother and soon withdrew his attention.

He took inventory of his gains.

Seventy-six magical gems of various properties and vibrant colors lay before him, their elemental aura emitting waves of magical energy, invigorating the surrounding air.

Beside these gems, Garon found his breathing especially easy.

The flow of magic within him quickened, and his efficiency in absorbing and converting the elemental energy in the air also greatly improved.

It was as if he had moved from a narrow, stuffy chamber to a vast, fresh meadow, delighting his draconic spirit.

Apart from the magical gems, the hoard included finely crafted steel armor, swords, and spears bearing uniform tulip-like patterns, enough to arm a hundred troops.

These were the most conspicuous items in the Ice Cliff Dragon Lair.

"These patterns look a bit like tulips."

"Did the White Dragon Mother attack a human army?"

Garon pondered as he examined the uniform patterns on the armor and weapons.

Although not magical items, their fine craftsmanship and slight metallic luster made them quite valuable, but unfortunately, Garon had no kin who could use this armor and weaponry.

Whether ogres or the spirits of the northern ice, their statures were much larger than humans.

His gaze moved from the armor and weapons to several spell scrolls.

These scrolls, rolled into cylindrical shapes and arranged in a triangular profile from wider at the base to narrower at the top, varied in color.

Using a detection spell, Garon observed from bottom to top that the scrolls emitted light, the lower ones dim and the upper ones increasingly bright, arranged by quality.

The brightest light, dazzling to behold, emanated from a pale yellow scroll that Garon now held.

On this scroll was inscribed a symbol—a horizontal oval with a crossed starburst in the center and spike-like protrusions outward.

Garon recognized this symbol as the emblem of the School of Transmutation.

It signified that the spell sealed within the scroll was a transmutation spell.

Transmutation spells, known among the magical schools for their direct and potent destructive capabilities, often come with impressive visual effects, providing greater

 impact and damage in combat than spells of other schools at the same level.

The most classic transmutation spell was the fireball, with some practitioners devoted to studying variations of fireball spells for their entire lives.

Great Fireball, Bursting Fireball, Lava Fireball, Blazing Fireball—the variants were countless.

Even among legendary spells, there were variants of the fireball spell, illustrating just how beloved this spell was by practitioners.

Back to the matter at hand, beneath the transmutation symbol was written in Common Noachian script.

Seventh-Tier Spell: Maw of the Vortex.

The name sounded more akin to transformation or summoning spells, but Garon knew that the effects of a spell couldn't be solely inferred from its name.

Garon's understanding of spells came from books obtained from a two-headed ogre, covering knowledge up to moderate fifth-tier spells.

A seventh-tier spell was categorically a high-tier spell.

Practitioners capable of wielding high-tier spells were rare and powerful, comparable in strength to an adult dragon.

"Luckily, the White Dragon Mother never got to use it, or I would have been in trouble."

Garon thought of the Thunderstorm spell that could make silver lightning dance violently across a vast area.

Like the White Dragon Mother, he solemnly placed the Maw of the Vortex scroll under his tongue, keeping it as an ace up his sleeve.

"However, where did the White Dragon Mother get a seventh-tier spell scroll?"

"From an unknown dragon father? That's quite possible."

Garon shook his head, no longer pondering it.

As for the other spell scrolls, Garon also examined them carefully.

There were forty-seven in total, covering various schools of magic, but the levels were relatively low, ranging from first to fifth tier.

There was only one fifth-tier scroll, three fourth-tier scrolls, and the rest were lower-tier spells from first to third tier.

For Garon, the lower-tier spell scrolls were optional, but those of mid-tier and above were valuable assets he could utilize.