Noa had been troubled lately.

This time, it was because the ancient ancestor who resided in her mind kept complaining that the speed of her five-year-old body of accumulating Primordial Power was too slow.

The ancestor even warned:

"If this continues, by the time I gather enough Primordial Power to restore my strength, the Ultimate Fear will already be dancing madly atop the ashes of the world."

To avoid witnessing the Ultimate Fear perform awkward dance moves in front of everyone, the ancestor had been nagging Noa incessantly to grow up quickly.

"I think it’s necessary to give you a crash course in modern biological basics," Noa said earnestly, explaining to her ancestor inside the dimly lit, golden waterway.

"There are two types of dragon hatchlings: cocoon-born and womb-born."

"Cocoon-born dragons inherit part of their mother's power at birth, so their growth rate and physical development are extraordinarily fast."

"Womb-born dragons, on the other hand, are naturally delivered by their mothers. They lack dragon horns before reaching adulthood, and their strength is generally inferior to cocoon-born dragons. This also applies to their slower growth rate."

"Unfortunately for you, your host—me—is a womb-born dragon."

The white dragon lay quietly on the water's surface, her colossal eyes reflecting Noa’s tiny figure. After listening to the explanation, the ancestor replied leisurely:

"I didn’t see any signs of ‘inferior to cocoon-born dragons’ in you. You can probably take down three cocoon-born dragons on your own."

Having stayed inside Noa’s consciousness for so long, the ancestor had come to thoroughly understand her host.

Being a young girl embodying both talent and effort, Noa not only stood out among her peers but was also considered exceptional even among juvenile dragons.

"Skill doesn’t equate to physical growth," Noa shrugged. "I can’t magically wake up one day with a body like my dad or mom’s, as you wish."

Of course, the ancestor understood this logic. Sighing lightly, she spoke, "Since you’ve taught me some biology, I may as well teach you a bit of history."

Noa kept her small face serious, nodded, and then sat cross-legged above the water, listening attentively.

"Actually, in the very beginning, the Dragon Clan knew of no such thing as ‘cocoon-born.’ All dragon hatchlings were naturally delivered by their mothers."

"But later, when the Dragon Clan’s internal wars broke out and tensions escalated, each tribe’s manpower began to fall short. They had no choice but to send young dragons to the battlefield."

"Gradually, however, they realized it still wasn’t enough. Most young dragons were mere cannon fodder on the battlefield, having no real impact on the outcome of the war."

"And so… a method of gestation allowing a hatchling to directly inherit its mother’s power was developed. Dragons born this way grew rapidly and had extraordinary learning abilities."

"Moreover, this method didn’t even require conventional reproductive means—just one dragon was sufficient to carry it out."

"This method of gestation is what your Dragon Clan today refers to as… ‘cocoon-born.’"

Noa listened quietly.

Although her small face remained expressionless, ripples stirred in her heart.

So, long ago, all dragons were once born through the union of father and mother? And ‘cocoon-born’ was developed for the sake of gaining an edge in those internal wars…

The conflict between cocoon-born dragons and womb-born dragons had long affected Noa personally.

When she first entered Saint Hiss Academy, she nearly suffered schoolyard bullying due to her womb-born status.

Thankfully, as a dragon from the Melkevi family, she was exceptional at taking on three opponents at once. After teaching those bullies a lesson, she became the anti-bullying ambassador of the hatchling division.

However, just because Noa could protect herself against cocoon-born dragons bullying didn’t mean other womb-born dragons could do the same.

At this point, when the tensions between the two groups began no longer mattered. What mattered was that these tensions undoubtedly influenced many generations of the Dragon Clan.

The identity-based divides fostered from youth would often remain unresolved, even a century later.

"Eventually, I ended the Dragon Clan’s internal wars, but the method of ‘cocoon-born’ gestation persisted," the ancestor continued, "because the Dragon Clan grew to favor this method of power inheritance, one that avoided the cumbersome process of gradual growth."

"Noa."

The Involuted Queen raised her gaze toward the colossal dragon before her. "What?"

"If you could choose how you were born, would you pick cocoon-born or womb-born?"

Noa blinked and thought for a moment before answering, "Womb-born."

After the ancestor hearing this, her eyes lit up, and she even appeared somewhat excited. "Why? Cocoon-born dragons have countless advantages over womb-born dragons right from birth. You work so hard to become stronger—isn’t that for the sake of pursuing power?"

Noa lowered her head, gazing at her right hand. In a soft voice, she replied,

"I just enjoy… the process of building strength step by step. Through it, I can tangibly feel myself getting stronger."

"Rather than inheriting powers directly from my mom, which would only make me feel like something vital was missing from life."

Listening to the little girl’s answer, the ancestor thought that perhaps ‘involuted’ wasn’t the best word to describe Noa.

Her relentless efforts to grow stronger weren’t solely driven by the desire for greater power or her parents’ approval. Another reason she worked so tirelessly was her wish for a fulfilling and extraordinary life.

A mere five-year-old with such an outlook… wasn’t that a rarity? A multitude of feelings surged up the ancestor.

"And you?" Noa suddenly asked.

"What?"

"If you could choose, would you pick cocoon-born or womb-born?"

This time, the ancestor didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she stared at Noa silently before lowering her gaze to the still water below.

Perhaps reminiscing, the ancestor didn’t rush to respond, and Noa didn’t press.

After a long pause, the ancestor finally spoke.

"Neither cocoon-born nor womb-born would be my choice."

Noa raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"Because… my very existence is a mistake."

…

Inside the grand hall of the sanctum, Roswitha was busy attending to her duties.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a small figure peeking cautiously from behind one of the columns.

Glancing at the sight, the Queen smirked faintly, pretending not to notice as she continued to focus on her papers.

Behind the column, Noa quickly pulled her head back.

"Why did you even bring me here to find my mom?" she muttered.

"I already told you, your current body gathers Primordial Power far too slowly. Your mom happens to have a solution to that problem," the ancestor explained.

"What do you mean? Are you planning to confess your existence to her? My parents will stop at nothing to extract you from my mind!"

"No, no, no. I’m talking about that pendant she’s wearing—it can help us."

"What? That thing?"

Noa peeking cautiously out again, her eyes fell on the pearly white pendant dangling from her mother’s neck.

Because of her posture while working, the pendant was left hanging visibly in the air.

Noa remembered her mother once mentioned that the pendant was a gift from Great-Grandma Veronica, given after her wedding.

Although the material was rare, Noa thought it had nothing to do with Primordial Power.

“No way. That’s a wedding gift from Great-Grandma to Mom—you’re not touching it," Noa declared firmly. Pausing, she asked, "Besides, how do you even know that pendant can help gather Primordial Power?"

"I can sense it," the ancestor replied. "The pendant was crafted from a Primordial Crystal. I don’t know how your mother got it, but for now, our priority is to use it to boost our Primordial Power collection rate."

"No. Way," Noa retorted. "I already said it’s my mom’s wedding gift. It’s very important to her."

In this, Noa stood completely firm.

Her mom took her marriage very seriously and cherished every aspect of it, including her wedding gifts.

Letting the ancestor use the pendant to speed up her accumulation of power? Absolutely not.

"Ahhh, you stubborn little creature! What am I supposed to do with you?"

"Tch," Noa huffed softly, poking her head out again to see if her mom had noticed anything yet—then she could make her escape.

But as her gaze shifted to the throne, she saw that her mom was no longer there.

Noa blinked, confused. "Mom’s not on her break yet… so where did she—"

"Noa."

"Ahh!!"

A soft yet cool voice rang beside her. It nearly scared the ancestor right out of Noa’s mind.

Noa’s small tail shot up in panic. Heart pounding, she turned to see her mother, her voice trembling, "M-Mom… w-when did you get here?"

"I heard some noise over this way, so I came to check," Roswitha said, smiling as she gently leaned forward to meet her daughter’s face.

Looking lovingly into Noa’s little eyes, she asked, "What are you doing over here?"

Noa instinctively leaned back slightly, her eyes drawn to the pendant hanging from her mother’s neck.

The pendant gleamed radiantly under the sunlight.

"I was… um… I was—"

"Waiting for us!"

Before Noa could finish, a voice interjected as a tuft of pink hair burst into the frame.

Then, Muen grabbed Noa’s left hand, and Aurora clasped her right. Together, they turned to face Roswitha.

"Mom, big sister was just waiting for us, isn’t that right, big sis?" asked Aurora.

Noa blinked blankly, but Aurora immediately began desperately signaling at her with her eyes.

"Oh, uh, yeah!" Noa said, catching on. "I was waiting for Aurora. We planned to play in the backyard together."

Muen scratched her head. "Huh? When did we plan to—?"

"We did! Of course we did!" Aurora quickly cut off her clueless sibling. Tugging at both their hands, she added, "Mom, you go ahead and keep working. We’re off to play now!"

Roswitha looked like she had more to say, but eventually just smiled and waved them off.

"Be careful, alright?"

"Got it, Mom!"

As the girls ran off toward the backyard, their giggles and banter faded into the distance.

Roswitha rubbed her temple gently.

"Why do I feel… like Noa’s acting strange?"