In the dark and damp dungeon, Leon was tightly bound by enchanted chains, unable to move.

The battered armor clinging to his body was barely holding together. Crimson marks on his wrists spoke of his futile attempts to struggle free.

But all of it was in vain.

Three days ago, he had led the Empire’s Dragon Slayer Army to Silver Dragon Castle with the firm determination to exterminate the wicked dragon terrorizing the region.

Who would have thought, however, that Leon would be betrayed by a trusted subordinate, stabbed in the back, and have the army's location exposed to the Silver Dragon Clan?

Without Leon's leadership, the Dragon Slayer Army was quickly routed, scattering in disarray.

As for Leon, he was captured alive by the Silver Dragon Clan and locked in this dungeon.

For three days, Leon had not had a drop of water to drink. All he sought was death.

Faced with the torment and humiliation at the hands of these vile dragons, he'd rather die a swift and honorable death.

Yet with the enchanted chains binding him, even death was beyond his reach.

Or perhaps, even if his limbs were freed, he was likely too weakened by hunger to end his own life.

In a haze, he suddenly became aware of noise echoing distantly in his ears.

It was the sound of a celebration.

The Dragon Clan’s victory feast.

Leon had overheard the guards talking. It was a week-long celebration held to mark the defeat of himself – the Empire’s strongest Dragon Slayer, Leon Cosmorde.

An extravagant, self-indulgent race, Leon scoffed to himself.

But at this point, he lacked the mood and energy to further criticize them.

Drip—drip—

Water seeped into the dungeon and dripped rhythmically onto the chains.

The monotonous, repetitive sound felt like a slow countdown to the end of Leon’s life.

No one knew how much time had passed when the dungeon door creaked open.

“Leave us. I would like a private talk with our dear hero, the Dragon Slayer.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

Creak—

The door closed.

Following that was the sound of high heels gently clicking against the stone floor.

The sound reverberated through the vast dungeon, drawing nearer and nearer to Leon.

Abruptly, the footsteps stopped.

Someone was now standing before his cell.

Straining, Leon slowly lifted his head. His blurry vision caught sight of a cascade of brilliant silver hair, shimmering like a suspended galaxy.

Yet, what really caught his attention was the tail beneath the hem of her dress, which immediately set him on edge.

Silver hair. Dragon tail. Majesty...

Leon realized who had come.

The Silver Dragon Queen, Roswitha.

Roswitha unlocked the cell and stepped inside, moving deliberately as she came to stand right in front of Leon.

The faint scent of alcohol wafted in the air. Her exquisite face, tinged with redness, suggested she might have had a bit too much celebrating at the victory feast.

They were close. Extremely close.

But what a juxtaposition they made: one was disheveled, in rags, his once-proud armor now dull and forlorn; the other regal and refined, her splendid gown immaculate, her silver hair radiant, her slit pupils filled with disdain and amusement.

Sunlight streamed in through the dungeon’s one small window, casting light upon Leon’s back and the queen's face.

This scene looked less like a defeated Dragon Slayer and a haughty Dragon Queen, and more like a fallen acolyte begging forgiveness from a saint.

Rustle—

The silver tail beneath Roswitha's gown slowly coiled. With its tip, she gently lifted Leon’s chin.

“What a steadfast and handsome man,” she mused. “The scars enhance this face of yours perfectly.”

The queen rarely handed out compliments.

Not unless someone truly impressed her.

But Leon showed no appreciation. He violently shook off Roswitha's tail.

Her brow furrowed in displeasure as her tail shot back up, this time coiling tightly around Leon’s neck.

“How dare you show me such insolence.”

Her voice was icy, laced with the authority befitting a queen.

At the same time, the tail began to constrict further around Leon’s throat.

His face turned beet red as his already weak body was starved of oxygen. He would soon be at death's door.

Yet even in his dire state, Leon’s defiant gaze remained locked onto Roswitha’s with unwavering intensity.

They stared each other down for a while. Just as Leon was about to lose consciousness, Roswitha loosened her tail and drew it back.

“A stubborn one, I see. But it’s pointless. You’ll soon be dead.”

“Kill me or torture me as you wish,” Leon rasped. “Just make it quick.”

“Hmph. Is that the best you can muster as your dying words, most celebrated Dragon Slayer?”

The Silver Dragon Queen sneered with mockery. “So, great Dragon Slayer, tell me: do you have a wife? Children, perhaps? If not, your death here would mean the end of your family line, wouldn’t it?”

Her words sliced through him, taunting the once-revered hero among humanity.

It was the victor’s righteous ridicule of the defeated.

“The fall of a Dragon Slayer usually signals the rise of a new hero,” she went on.

“But in your case, it seems like there’s no one to follow in your footsteps, hmm?”

Roswitha extended her delicate fingers, tracing lightly across the scars on Leon’s face, her tone dripping with insincere pity.

“What a shame. Someone as capable as you, had it not been for that betrayal, could have achieved even greater feats.”

“Your descendants could have ridden on your coattails, basking in glory and prosperity, while the Dragon Clan was eventually eradicated.”

“You would have been a legend, revered for generations, sung of by the masses.”

“But alas—"

“Heh, you're going to die here~”

Scratch—

Roswitha suddenly swiped a finger across Leon’s cheek, leaving a shallow fresh wound.

Blood stained her fingertip, but she didn’t bother to wipe it clean. Instead, she brought it to her lips, her tongue darting out to slowly lick away the blood.

Leon lifted his head, staring at the smug expression on Roswitha’s face, glimpsing the trace of his blood at the corner of her mouth.

Suddenly, a thought of vengeance sprang into his mind.

Leon recalled a forbidden magic he had learned long ago.

A spell that could only be used once in a lifetime. And there would never be a more fitting moment than now.

“Your Majesty...” Leon rasped.

“Oh? Ready to beg for your life, brave Dragon Slayer? Don’t expect me to let you off easily~”

“Your Majesty, you just asked me whether I had any heirs... didn’t you?”

Roswitha arched a delicate eyebrow. “Why? Could it be that you actually do?”

“No, not before. But... very soon, I will.”

“What do you mea—”

Before she could finish, Leon jerked his head up, locking his gaze with hers.

In that instant, Roswitha felt her body weaken, her consciousness beginning to blur.

Leon's eyes shimmered with waves of magical energy, rippling as if ensnaring her very mind.

She could no longer control her own movements as she stepped closer to him, raising her hands to pull him into a tight embrace.

But that was only the beginning.

She tilted Leon’s face up and pressed her lips to his.

Leon despised the Dragon Clan with every fiber of his being. Yet, for the chance to exact some measure of revenge on this proud Silver Dragon Queen before his end, he endured.

The kiss lingered for dozens of seconds, leaving Roswitha — already slightly tipsy — even more flushed and short of breath.

Leon knew. The time had come.

…

An hour later, Roswitha slowly opened her eyes.

Her mind cleared, only for a wave of exhaustion to wash over her entire being.

She lowered her gaze and saw that her clothes were disheveled, her chest partially exposed, the pale and smooth skin of her body marked with faint smears of blood.

“So, you’re awake, Your Majesty. Or rather, should I call you ‘Mother Queen’ now?” Leon chuckled from nearby.

Roswitha turned toward the voice, only to see that the enchanted chains binding Leon’s hands and feet had been undone. Yet, he hadn’t fled.

Perhaps he knew that in his current state, even if he escaped, it would accomplish nothing. And so, he simply waited for Roswitha to awaken.

Clenching her teeth, Roswitha swiftly stood and adjusted her clothing, storming over to seize Leon by the collar. Her voice was filled with fury as she demanded, “What did you do to try and make me pregnant? What kind of trickery is this?!”

“Your Majesty, you’ve made two grave mistakes,” Leon replied, his tone calm and deliberate, ignoring her frantic question.

“First, as a dragon, you should never have been alone with the strongest Dragon Slayer trained by the Empire.”

“Second, I don’t know what kind of... sexual preferences you have, and I don't care to know, but you absolutely shouldn’t have taken even a single drop of my blood.”

Roswitha's pupils, slitted like a dragon’s, widened with rare panic.

Just what had this despicable human done to her during the haze of her lost consciousness?

“There exists a one-time-use spell known as the Blood Enchantment,” Leon began, his voice unnervingly steady, “Though I doubt Your Majesty has ever heard of it.”

“The principle is simple. If someone consumes even a drop of the caster’s blood, the magic ripple it generates dominates their willpower, compelling them to... engage.”

“To be frank, I’ve always despised resorting to such underhanded methods.”

“But I’ll admit, Your Majesty, you have an exceptional way with words. It broke me. So I decided to ‘repay’ you in kind, dear Queen.”

In a sense, Leon’s ploy had succeeded. He had managed to humiliate Roswitha, the haughty Silver Dragon Queen, in his final moments.

But no satisfaction bloomed in his chest.

Because as a Dragon Slayer, there was no greater disgrace than what he’d just done — entangling himself physically with a dragon.

The very thought made him sick.

Even so, Leon forced himself to push through his turmoil, his mocking smile unwavering as he added,

“So, to answer your earlier question: yes. I do have offspring. They now reside within your womb.”

Seeing the smug satisfaction on Leon’s battered, bloodied face filled Roswitha with both rage and humiliation.

How had this wretched, condemned man managed to turn the tables on her, Silver Dragon Queen, in such a disgraceful way?

For a brief moment, Roswitha stood frozen, unsure how she should deal with the situation.

To say something, to do something—anything at this moment would seem futile and powerless.

Just as she had ridiculed Leon from her lofty throne moments ago, now it was his turn to stab mercilessly at the depths of her heart.

“Your Majesty, the Queen, I believe you can now clearly feel the changes within your body. At the same time, you must understand that I have become your only breeding option from this point forward. It is the breeding rule of your Dragon Clan, isn’t that right?”

Leon spoke with relentless confidence, his words flowing without hesitation. Just a few days ago, his Dragon Slayer Army had been utterly defeated, falling apart at the seams. Yet now, he spoke as if he was delivering the victor’s speech.

“At this moment, my child is rooting and growing inside your womb.”

“If you plan to kill it right after it is born, that's fine.”

“But you should think it through. By the time that happens, I, the first human to have mated with you—a female dragon—will have been dead for ten months. And by then, you will no longer be able to engage in reproduction with anyone else.”

“What was it you said earlier? Your Majesty, oh yes—you said my bloodline was on the verge of extinction.”

“Well, now I suppose you can somewhat empathize with how I felt.”

Every sentence Leon uttered cut deeply, each word like a dagger viciously stabbing into Roswitha’s heart.

But while his words were sharp and heart-piercing, Leon’s body was deteriorating rapidly.

His consciousness began to blur; his eyelids felt impossibly heavy, as if weighed down by a thousand pounds. He could even feel his body heat slowly slipping away.

Reaching the end of one’s life—so this is what it feels like.

Leon’s breathing grew heavier and slower, now releasing more air than he could take in.

"Your Majesty the Queen, I imagine you’re dying to kill me, this scoundrel who has tainted your purity," he sneered weakly. "But… there’s no need for you to dirty your hands… I…"

His lungs gradually ceased their contractions, and his heart, after a few final, violent beats, began to falter and fade.

“Roswitha, Queen of the Silver Dragons... give birth to our child. Then… I’ll meet you... in hell.”

With those words, the Dragon Slayer breathed his last.

The last battered piece of armor on his shoulder slid off at that very moment, crashing to the ground with a crisp, resounding clang.

The sound echoed through the vast dungeon, reverberating repeatedly, hammering into Roswitha’s heart over and over again.

After a long silence, the Silver Dragon Queen slowly collected herself, her emotions gradually calming.

She lifted her gaze, her inverted dragon pupils blazing as though ignited by an unyielding and eternal fire.

“You want to die? Not so easily.”

“Leon Casmod, my child… will not grow up without *their* father.”