For Leon, the amount of information he held was pitifully little. Regarding how Constantine had discovered his human identity, he had no clue where to even begin unraveling the mystery.

It felt like someone had handed him a few fragments of a scene alongside a cryptic riddle, and now expected him to reverse-engineer an entire story from those paltry details.

No matter how sharp Leon's mind was, this was an impossible task.

As for Roswitha, although she had thought of the one-year pact with Tagger and Constantine's sudden rise to prominence around the same time a year ago, she too struggled to connect these two events with a coherent thread.

Adding superfluous details and baseless speculation would merely bog down the thought process.

Roswitha decided to sort things out herself first before discussing them with Leon.

Leon, on the other hand, didn’t waste too much energy obsessing over something so nebulous.

Sure, he was someone who enjoyed thinking and studying, but when it came to riddle-makers like Constantine, he simply couldn’t be bothered.

Looking back, he thought, if he’d known it would come to this, he might have spared Constantine's life for just a moment longer to interrogate him before finishing him off.

But what was done was done. It was better to look forward.

Leon exhaled deeply, turning to glance at Roswitha. "What's for dinner?"

The queen froze. "Jumping from exposing your human identity straight to tonight's dinner—don’t you think the transition between these two topics is a bit… too vast?"

"Man cannot live by next-to-impossible riddles alone. Only by filling his stomach can he find the strength to ponder over mysteries, right?"

Leon spoke in self-righteous earnest. "Besides, from the time I killed Constantine in the early hours of yesterday until now, it's been over ten hours since I’ve eaten. Is this how your Silver Dragon Clan treats its lifesaving hero?"

Roswitha shot him a sideways glance.

Alright, alright, fine. You have merit, you’ve worked hard; this queen won’t argue with you.

"What do you want to eat?" she asked.

"Dragon meat."

Roswitha was speechless; she knew Leon was doing it deliberately to mess with her.

During her ten months of pregnancy, this annoying man had carefully kept his claws sheathed, dutifully playing the role of an attentive "husband" and pandering to Roswitha's every need.

He’d almost never argued with her.

Now that their youngest daughter had safely been born, he seemed to think himself free to let loose his sharp tongue again.

But just because they hadn’t sparred verbally for a while didn’t mean Roswitha was out of practice. With a calm demeanor and a slow pace, she countered:

"Ha... Constantine was a pretty big dragon. That’s enough meat to last you a year. Go ahead."

"I don’t eat carrion."

"Now you're being picky, huh?"

Roswitha, annoyed, extended her tail towards Leon, shoving it near his mouth. "Fine, here’s fresh dragon meat. Have a bite—come on, eat it! Why aren’t you—AH! You bastard, did you actually bite me?!"

"You pushed it to my mouth. If I didn’t take a bite, wouldn’t that be rude?"

"CASMOD! I will kill you!!"

Their second-born daughter, witnessing this dramatic display from the moment of her birth: Stunning. A newborn treated to such a show was definitely getting her ticket price’s worth.

...

A few days later, the morning sun shone brightly. Roswitha decided to take their newborn daughter outside for some fresh air and a bit of sunlight.

Compared to human babies, Dragon Clan hatchlings were much heartier and better adapted to their environment. Even if barely days old, they could be taken out for a leisurely stroll and a gulp of fresh air.

This would be the little one's first time leaving Roswitha’s bedroom. Her wide eyes were filled with wonder at the entirely new world around her.

The couple settled onto a bench in their backyard garden, sitting shoulder to shoulder.

The baby lay sprawled in Roswitha’s lap, her tiny hands gently fiddling with her mother’s hair. Her lively eyes roved from her mother to her father before emitting a soft infant coo.

Leon couldn’t interpret baby language, but judging by her expression, she seemed pretty happy?

"So," Leon asked, "when will she be able to talk?"

"Young dragons can start speaking after about two months," Roswitha said, then added, "Noa called me ‘mom’ after just over one month."

Wow, she's really advanced, starting so young, isn't she?

Roswitha gently rocked the baby in her lap, then lifted her gaze towards Leon. "What about human children? When do they usually start talking?"

"Books say around eight to twelve months."

The reason Leon prefaced with "books say" was that he had never personally raised a human child from infancy. Naturally, his knowledge came from reading some parenting guides.

Roswitha gave a smug little hum. "Humans are so slow. What about you? Since you’re such a genius, did you start talking the moment you were born?"

Leon countered the mother dragon’s tease smoothly, "Incorrect. I could slay dragons from the moment of my birth."

"Tch, idiot."

As the two bantered, a rush of small, hurried footsteps sounded from not far away.

The couple turned to see their eldest children, Noa and Muen, approaching them.

"Good morning, Dad. Good morning, Mom," Noa greeted.

"Good morning, Mommy! Good morning, Daddy!" Muen chimed in.

Bounding straight into action, Muen launched herself onto Leon’s lap with a practiced "Dragon’s Leap," curling up like a cozy kitten. She's Leon's little darling, and Leon's her cozy support; together, they bring warmth to each other's lives.

Noa sidled over to Roswitha’s side, craning his neck to peer at his baby sister.

The newborn had already opened her eyes. Her irises were a light pink hue, different from her parents’, Muen’s, or even Noa’s.

It seemed Auntie genetically scored big this time; while their mom and dad fought over traits, Auntie managed to slip in a win.

"By the way, Dad, Mom, have you picked a name for my baby sister yet?" Noa asked.

Roswitha shook her head. "Not yet. There’s no rush—we didn’t name you or Muen until after you were over a month old."

Noa nodded his little head and made a soft "oh" sound.

After chatting a bit more about his baby sister, Noa hopped onto the edge of the bench, snuggling up beside Leon. "Dad, the Thunder Thrust you taught me during winter vacation—I’ve mastered it. Can you teach me something new?"

Learning magic wasn’t an easy feat. Taking three to five years to master a single spell was considered normal.

And Noa was just over two years old. For him to have already mastered an A-rank spell within just one year was simply extraordinary. It wasn’t just a matter of "pushing hard"; his sheer talent also played a role.

Mentioning this now likely came from something he had seen firsthand during Constantine's invasion a few days earlier—where he witnessed his dad in peak form.

Wielding dual Thunder Thrusts, Leon had carved through enemy ranks like a one-man whirlwind.

The word "cool" barely scratched the surface.

Since his dad was so cool, learning one extra move from him could only raise the bar even higher!

"So, Noa, what do you want to learn next?" Leon asked.

"Um... the move, the one you used to beat Constantine the other day. The final one," Noa said, pausing a moment before describing it quite aptly: "The Holy Sword Summon!"

Leon thought back for a moment. Holy Sword Summon?

Ah, his eldest was referring to "Thunder Blade Manifestation."

The move itself wasn’t particularly difficult to learn—on the human grading scale, it was classified as B-rank.

All it required was mastery over thunder elements’ condensation and form manipulation.

The move’s actual effectiveness was entirely dependent on the wielder’s power.

For an average human practitioner, this B-ranked spell might serve as no more than a temporary weapon.

But when wielded by Leon, it had been enough to kill the Crimson Flame Dragon King.

His precious daughter wanted to learn it, so naturally, he wouldn’t say no.

The problem, however, was... that night, in his determination to quickly finish Constantine off, Leon had drained a year’s worth of diligently saved mana.

Over the past few days, he had been preoccupied with the newborn and hadn’t had time to replenish his magic reserves.

After mulling it over for a moment, Leon decided it might be better to teach Noa this particular spell in a few days.

But just as he opened his mouth to answer, Roswitha beat him to it.

"Noa, your dad’s been really tired these last few days. Why don’t we wait a bit before he teaches you, okay?"

Noa blinked her big eyes, ever so understanding. "Okay. Daddy’s health is the most important."

Leon was faintly surprised as he gazed at the mother dragon.

Wow, pigs must be flying today—she's actually on his side!

But before Leon had a chance to feel even mildly touched, Roswitha added:

"However... Dad *can* demonstrate it for you, can’t he, honey?"

She looked at Leon, her smile sweet yet full of devious implication.

Leon narrowed his eyes slightly, scrutinizing her. Damn, why did it feel like she knew something she shouldn’t?

But he was certain he hadn’t mentioned his inability to gather magic power to anyone, let alone to Roswitha.

Good grief—you dragons always know how to say the most confounding things, don’t you?

"Really? Dad, a demonstration would be neat!" Noa’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

"Yay! Muen also wants to see Daddy’s Holy Sword Summon. It’s super cool!" Muen chimed in, helpfully adding more pressure.

Roswitha smiled warmly at Leon. "Your daughters are eager, sweetheart. Why don’t you just give them a little show?"

Leon felt like he was caught between a rock and a hard place.

With no other options, having been thrown into the deep end by the dragoness, he had no choice but to steel himself and give it a try.

Just don’t embarrass yourself too much, man.

"Fine, I'll demonstrate for you."

With that, Leon rose to his feet. Standing firmly, he slightly shifted his posture into position before pressing his palms together to summon power.

Tendrils of electricity danced faintly between his clasped hands.

Leon slowly opened them, a flicker of lightning coalescing in his palms.

B-rank Lightning Magic: Thunder Blade Manifestation.

Leon let out a low grunt. He offered the formed lightning "blade" toward Noa, extending it outward. "Here, it’s done."

Noa stared, wide-eyed, at the "blade" in front of her, swallowing audibly. "Dad, I asked for a lightning sword, not a lightning toothpick."

Indeed, after draining his mana reserves to zero, our magnificent Dragon Slayer, Casmod Leon, had plummeted from the grandiose heights of slaying Constantine with a single blade... to barely squeezing out an exhausted "Lightning Toothpick."

Noa hesitantly took the toothpick-like piece of Thunder Fang, held it up to her tiny nose, and examined it closely, hoping to discern some subtle details.

But it was still no larger than the electric arcs of her Thunder Thrust. She couldn’t make out anything clearly at all!

Leon cleared his throat twice to ease the awkwardness, just about to explain.

But Roswitha beat him to it.

The Queen stood up, setting the baby down on the bench.

Then she strode over to Leon, gently placed her right hand on his arm, and gazed tenderly into his eyes, speaking in a soft and affectionate tone:

“It’s okay, darling.”

Leon pressed his lips together, cautiously watching her mouth. Experience told Leon that the words coming next from this dragoness were guaranteed to be explosive.

“Small things can be cute too~”

“......”

Damn dragoness, I’ll make sure you experience something big next time!