“So this is Poseidon’s place. It doesn’t look like the other dragons’ homes.” Lilith slid off Typhon’s back, clutching her chest like a survivor after a storm.

Typhon’s back was slick as polished ice, not like a Red Dragon’s spined saddle that a Saint could hug. The little Silver Dragon flew fast, then bounced twice for fun, like a skittish swallow.

Nausea rose like a tide, and Lilith almost looked for a corner to throw up. Fear came first—Typhon stood right there. She didn’t dare bad‑mouth the Silver Dragon.

If the dragon got annoyed, she pictured herself snapped up and swallowed whole. Her journey couldn’t end here; she still needed to get back to her own world.

If it had to end, let it end by a pond, where fate might toss her an extra life.

She eyed a glass jar that clashed against the rainbow orbs around them, then asked, curiosity pricking like a fishbone.

“Yes. Aunt Poseidon’s research is special, so her room was custom‑built. It’s not a normal dragon nest.” Typhon, in human form, set her hand on the knob.

“Come in. I think Professor Poseidon can’t wait any longer.”

“You’re right. I’ve waited long enough, little storm‑whelp.” The door yanked inward. Typhon stumbled like a kite cut loose, almost falling flat.

A woman with water‑blue hair leaned on the frame, lazy as a cat at noon. Tangled hair and heavy dark circles gave her a slightly shabby edge.

Her clothes looked thrown on in a hurry, and books stacked like dunes filled the hallway. Before she spoke much, Lilith knew—mad scientist vibes, loud as thunder.

“But for the White Dragon of our clan’s new dawn, the waiting was worth it.”

“Uh… good morning, Poseidon… teacher?” Lilith hovered at the threshold, unsure.

The blue Water Dragon shook her head. “Don’t call me teacher. Among dragons that title is solemn. Until I’m formally your mentor, call me Professor. I prefer it.”

“Alright, Professor Poseidon.” Obedient and neat, Lilith earned a satisfied nod. Poseidon turned her body to let Lilith enter, then blocked Typhon with a firm arm.

The little Silver Dragon bumped her head and huffed, cheeks puffing like a steamed bun. “Why can’t I go in?”

“Because you’ll mess up my things.” Poseidon’s glare was sharp as sleet. “Last time, your chaos took me two hours to fix.”

“If you weren’t Tartarus’s child, you wouldn’t see my door ever again.”

“Ugh…” Typhon had no ground to argue, so she crouched outside, tail swaying like grass in wind. A punished kid barred from dinner, guarding the door alone.

“Controlling water flow is a Water Dragon’s most basic ability. Even basics can bloom into a thousand tricks.” Poseidon flicked a finger; a stream coiled and lifted.

It turned into a tiny flying dragon, wings fluttering like silver leaves. It circled Lilith, playful as rain sparrows in spring.

“My usual style is shaping water into forms. Water is the most obedient thing in the world. Ask it for a shape, and it answers.”

The tiny dragon popped with a soft boom. The splashing droplets stood up as little water‑folk, each with stubby legs and bright eyes.

They scurried like diligent ants, gathering papers into neat stacks. Soon, a path opened through the mess, clean as a river cut through reeds.

“So convenient.” Lilith couldn’t help praising. The water‑folk waved their small hands, proud as children showing off a sandcastle.

Warmth rose first; she smiled with motherly softness, bent, and patted one on the head. Her laugh was light, like bells over water.

“Yeah. Without them, I’d be buried alive under paperwork.” Poseidon nodded with real relief. Lilith looked around at the sea of files and shivered.

“But they’re not today’s focus. If you choose me as mentor, most of our time will go into this line.”

“Come. This is where Water Dragons pour their true energy.” Poseidon led Lilith to a sealed door, heavy as a vault.

She pushed it open with deliberate care, solemn as a ceremony, and brought Lilith inside.

Lilith stepped in—and froze, stunned like a deer in sudden moonlight.

The wide room was filled with bottles and jars, a forest of glass. Inside, strange creatures crowded like stars in deep water.

Twisted deep‑blue tentacles writhed against clear glass, creeping like night vines. A chill ran through Lilith’s heart; danger hummed like a low drum.

One glance, and she felt it—these weren’t easy foes. They looked as sickening as the Taint she had fought again and again.

“What are these?” Anxiety pricked first; she eyed the jars, worried they’d be trouble just sitting there.

“Creatures we Water Dragons study.” Poseidon lifted a jar and eased off its lid, careful as a surgeon before a cut.

“I found them long ago in the western sea. They plagued the merfolk there, so I stepped in and collected them all.”

“Their key trait is rapid adaptation to their surroundings. Yet they can’t adapt to draconic mana, no matter what.”

“I brought them back, researched for ages, and asked Asterios. The conclusion was this—”

She pinched a tentacled clump by two ends and pulled. It stretched into a ridiculously long rubbery cord, elastic as morning taffy.

“They’re fragments of the Dragon God’s body. Naturally, they submit under a dragon’s presence.”

“So I exploit their extreme adaptability, guiding each to grow traits I need.” She tossed the tentacle back into its jar and dusted off her hands.

“See, this one’s extension potential heavily boosted. That one’s heat resistance sharply increased. And that one’s toxicity drastically heightened.”

“And a Water Dragon’s second ability is this—we can briefly borrow other creatures’ abilities.” She raised her right hand.

Before Lilith’s widening eyes, Poseidon’s slender fingers softened into sinuous tentacles, stretching through the room like ivy in a ruined hall.

“Like so. Any creature we study can become a Water Dragon’s ability. This is our true research path.”

“Uh…” Shock hit first; Lilith’s eyes went round. She couldn’t accept her body twisting like that. It dragged up the memory of Taint‑wraiths.

“Alright. Looks like you don’t like it.” Disappointment faded like a wave pulling back. Poseidon let her fingers return to normal.

She took out a water‑blue pendant and handed it to the little Saint in white. “Sadly, I can’t be your mentor.”

“But you’re our dear Little White Dragon. Take a gift anyway.”

Poseidon hung the pendant at Lilith’s waist and patted her head, gentle as rain. “It’s a gem condensed from pure water element.”

“It’s like the wind‑element gem on your chest. Don’t lose it, okay?”

“Mm. Uh—thank you, Professor Poseidon.” Lilith gripped the gem at her waist. By evening, she’d be a walking jewelry rack.

“Alright, go see Tiamat. He’s a grumpy old man—don’t keep him waiting.” Poseidon walked Lilith to the door and waved like a windblown willow.

“Goodbye, cute Little White Dragon. Even if you don’t pick me, come visit often.”

“Mm. Goodbye, Professor Poseidon.” Lilith waved her small hand, then swung back onto the Silver Dragon. The Saint hugged in, and Typhon beat her wings, eager as a spring wind.

“Hey, you finally came out. Aunt Poseidon didn’t give you a hard time, right?”

Typhon’s curiosity sparkled like sun on water. “Every time I visit, she’s ready to flay me alive.”

“I think it’s because you keep scrambling her files.” Lilith watched the lively Silver Dragon and spoke plainly.

“Oh. Okay, fair point.” Typhon’s voice wilted like a leaf in heat. The little dragon went quiet.

“Host.” The system’s voice chimed in Lilith’s mind, cool as a bell underwater.

“System? You finally woke up!” Excitement surged first. Lilith opened the panel and checked her skill bar.

Sure enough, a new skill, Arcane Dragon Claw, lay quietly at the bottom. She tapped it and slotted it in.

“Hey, System, do we still have residue left?”

“Plenty. But this skill doesn’t upgrade with residue. Read it carefully.” Prompted, Lilith opened the description.

“Cannot be upgraded. Grows stronger as your understanding of magic deepens? What does that mean?”

“It means the more you learn about draconic magic, the stronger it gets.” The system sounded a touch impatient, like a teacher tapping chalk.

“It’s a scaling skill—power rises as difficulty rises. Clear enough?”

“Clear.” Lilith nodded. She loved auto‑scaling skills. They gave her a snug sense of safety, like a cloak in cold wind.

“Hey, Little White Dragon, we’re here.” Typhon cut into her thoughts. Lilith looked up at a crimson orb burning like a sunset lamp.

The Silver Dragon dumped her at the door and sprawled flat, playing dead. “You go in. I don’t want to see the old man. He’ll tear me apart.”

“Uh, alright.” Lilith gave a sheepish laugh and stepped into the red orb.

Unlike the last two mentors, no one waited at the door. She moved inward on careful feet, like crossing a thin ice sheet.

She hadn’t taken many steps when someone came to greet her—by flying out, booted hard.

“Wagaa—!” The cry rang familiar. Lilith looked up as a crimson figure somersaulted through the air, headed straight for her face.

She squinted—wasn’t that Ophelia, the one she’d pinned and pummeled before?

“Hey, move, Little White Dragon!” Ophelia saw her, too, yelling mid‑flight. She twisted in the air, but momentum didn’t care.

Impact was a heartbeat away. Dodging was no longer on the table.

Fear spiked, then resolve clicked in. Perfect time to test the new skill. Lilith raised her right hand; the Holy Blade flowed into her palm.

A white hatchling unfurled behind her like dawn mist, lifting its sharp right claw. “Brace!”

“Arcane Dragon Claw!” Lilith’s cry cracked like a whip.

In the air, Ophelia turned her hands into massive dragon talons and crossed them to shield her face.

Lilith thrust with the Holy Blade. A hallowed dragon claw, wreathed in the heavy reek of Taint, slammed into Ophelia’s crossed talons.

The Dragon Knight felt her sturdy claws on the edge of snapping. Her forward tumble flipped, and she blasted back like a fired shell.

She dwindled into a point of light and vanished into the room’s far end.

“Not bad, young White Dragon.”

An old voice rang out. A lick of scarlet fire flashed past, and the dragonrider girl who’d just been flung out shrieked as she was slung back like a meteor. The voice chuckled, low and smoky, and invited the Little White Dragon in. Come, let me see how much you truly have.

Hey—what is even happening? Shock hit first, then motion. Lilith yanked back her dragon claws, her form blurring into a knight-captain hefting a warhammer. She spun on her heel and smashed Ofira square in the face.

Lady Ofira pinwheeled away before she could even scream. A red flare cut the air; the Red Dragon girl tore back toward Lilith, heat trailing like a comet’s tail.

Hey! Lilith pirouetted on the spot, the knight-captain’s hammer whirring, and sent Ofira flying again like a swatted shuttlecock.

Hmph! A scarlet streak again—Ofira came skidding in from the far wall, eyes wild, flames hissing.

Are you two playing badminton?! The dragonrider’s wail rattled the crimson room.

It ended with a single sledgehammer blow that drove Lady Ofira into the floor. She lay buried like the day she first met Lilith, only her limbs twitching above cracked stone. The only difference—Lilith didn’t set a dainty foot on her head this time. She walked past the half-sunken dragon girl, toward the old voice in the back of the chamber.

I’m pleased, Daughter of the Dragon Emperor. The speaker was an aged, red-haired elder standing at the room’s far end. Crimson hair, touched with ash, blazed against torchlight like cooling embers beside a living flame. His frame was huge, enough to pack two Liliths within his shadow. The pressure rolled off him like a storm front. Instinct hit first—Lilith froze and waited for his next move.

Relax. There’s no need to be so tense. I’m Tiamat, merely a common Red Dragon. You may have heard a few of my tales from Poseidon. She and I never quite get along. Pay her words no mind. Hands clasped behind him, Tiamat studied the White Dragon with slit crimson pupils that cut like knives. The stare pressed like the old school disciplinarian, the dean who never smiled. No way, Lilith thought, throat tight. I’m not studying under him.

A pity. I’ve seldom seen a White Dragon train under Red or Black. And you, White Dragon, carry the breath of death. That runs counter to the source of Red Dragon power. Fafnir may like what coils in you. Tiamat’s tone held regret, and that—oddly—piqued Lilith’s interest in the Red path. Still, I’ll show you how we Red Dragons fight.

Red Dragons are the broadest branch of our kind. What we carry, most dragons carry. Thick scales. Surging vitality. Deep wells of magic. Bodies built for war. The other four bloodlines lean one way and lose another. Silver Dragons wield peerless magic, yet their lives are delicate, almost human-fragile. Black Dragons wear claws that can tear Earth Dragons’ scales, yet magic rarely favors them. Only Red Dragons hold a true balance. What a Red Dragon is, that is the base line of our race.

He lifted his right hand. Crimson scales washed over bulging muscle; blunt palms split into razor talons. A spark leapt from a fingertip and hovered in his palm like a caged star. A Red Dragon’s power is flame. We shape flame, release flame, condense flame. Flame is the Red Dragon. While the fire burns, the Red Dragon’s life does not stop.

Unlike Earth Dragons with their wind and soil, and Water Dragons with their tides. Our flame isn’t some external ‘resonance,’ nor the blunt grasp of a river’s current. Flame is part of us. Strictly speaking, when we wield it, we’re extending our own hands. The fire answered him. A pillar roared up from the floor, heat rolling like a desert noon; the air shimmered and bent with it. Unbothered, Tiamat slid his arm into the blaze and drew out a searing gem.

As with the first two mentors you met, you’ll take a gem condensed from fire itself. How you apply elemental power, you’ll explore on your own. He placed the ruby in the Little White Dragon’s palm. Lilith weighed it, thought a heartbeat, then fixed it to her left shoulder, where it pulsed like a sunrise.

Next, I’ll let you glimpse true Red Dragon strength. Tiamat’s gaze warmed as he watched her wear the gem. He set his left hand to his chest, then—before Lilith’s wide eyes—reached in and pulled out his own heart. The crimson dragonheart thumped in open air, steady as war drums. Magma-bright blood streamed from the orange-red core and blossomed into detonating fire that circled him like a crown. The heartless dragon didn’t weaken. If anything, the flare of burning life made his presence swell, vast as a volcano.

Like our flame, we command life. When a Red Dragon wills it, we turn burning fire into living power. No matter the wound, while the fire lives, the Red Dragon does not die.

And your second gift is this. He snapped his fingers. A wisp of scorching flame blossomed before Lilith, bright as a firefly forged from a forge. She didn’t need an explanation to know it.

Red Dragon heartblood. With it, you can mend a White Dragon’s too-fragile life. But the death clinging to you is thick. Don’t swallow it as-is. Carry it. Fafnir will know how to make it serve you. I expect it’ll become a great aid to your weapon.

Thank you. Gratitude warmed first; then she reached out. The little flame hopped into her hand, then slipped up her sleeve on its own. It didn’t scorch cloth. It spread a gentle heat instead, a hearth-fire comfort against her skin.

All right. You can go to your next mentor. Tiamat’s smile turned kindly as he looked at the Little White Dragon. It’s a shame I can’t take you as a disciple, but I do like you, little Hero of humankind. The next two won’t be like me. They’ll fight to claim you. You carry traits that will fascinate them both. A Saint stained by death’s power. And you seem blessed by the stars.