Dragon's Nest and the Age of Global Exploration
Thanks to the invention of the continent-spanning train cookie I made, the lives of on-site party workers—who used to stick to their own countries—had become, if I exaggerated a bit, an endless cycle of world tours. One day chasing death worms in the desert, the next hunting lantern scorpions in the nighttime jungle. It was the grand era of exploration, with hero parties clashing against monsters across the globe.
Riding that wave of change, I'd come to think I was numb to every climate imaginable. The kind of numb where hopping from the poles to the equator in a single day barely registered. But apparently, after that brutal fight in the storm, my body had frozen up far worse than I'd realized.
The warm breeze brushing the palm trees, tropical birds chirping overhead. The moment my feet hit the sandy beach, that vibrant warmth seeped right in. I nearly lost my mind to this place, like some guy who'd been done in by a succubus.
"Totally tropical..."
The party members who'd gotten off first were huddled with their shoulders up by their ears, shivering in delight.
"Ughhh—I could just roll around on this sand and pass out right here. Even with the salty crust from dried seawater."
"After all that rocking, finally stepping on solid ground makes me feel alive. Like we're safe now. Is it the warm wind?"
Even as we chatted casually, we subtly scanned our surroundings. Whether it was vigilance or lingering paranoia, who could say.
There was another reason the scenery looked so peaceful. Our own expectations. Up until we disembarked, my party and I had braced for something far more intimidating. An isolated, fog-shrouded frontier in the middle of the ocean. Massive reptilian heads popping out from strange trees, roaring with mouths gaping like carnivorous dinosaurs. Something like that.
But Nidroga giggled and shook her head. As if her homeland was some den of wild beasts.
'It's not really a homeland. It's home. Home.'
'A dragon's home probably feels way different from a regular one. Especially if the whole island's your house—the scale's already off.'
'You'll see for yourself. Sure, like anyone's hometown, it'll be different from yours. But in some ways, not so much. Just a bit noisier and more fun with all the family crammed together...'
We clearly hadn't grasped what Nidroga meant. The reality was peaceful in a way that shattered our predictions entirely.
The finishing touch was a harmless, cozy-looking woman with her rust-red hair neatly tied up. A housewife? Straw hat adorned with tropical flowers, gentle half-lidded eyes. Her loose dress revealed a generous figure, but she radiated a freshness that made "auntie" feel premature. Like a newlywed village wife just past the honeymoon phase.
"Oh my. What a sight you all are."
"Pardon?"
"You must be my daughter's friends. We've been waiting. Come on in. Must've been a long trip."
"Your daughter? Who do you—"
"Mom!"
Nidroga's face lit up even brighter as she shot her hand up and leaped from the railing. Her landing spot was unnerving—straight down onto the young housewife's head.
But the housewife beamed with pure joy, arms outstretched, and caught Nidroga without so much as a jolt.
"My one and only daughter!"
Like a mother reuniting with her study-abroad kid, they hugged and spun in circles. With their apparent ages so close, they could pass for sisters. A wholesome, everyday scene.
If you ignored the horrific thud of shoulders and guts colliding moments ago.
"How've you been?!"
"My girl's all grown up! Bringing friends home, what a surprise!"
Not being experts in physical feats, my sisters and I glanced at Esen. Even by her standards, this was insane—her orange ears drooped in defeat.
I nodded, deciding to follow Esen's lead. Don't piss her off. Ever. No reason to be rude to a teammate's mom, but one wrong move and my head would probably explode.
"First time meeting you, milady. This humble sea dog is—"
The woman, who had set Nidroga down and was ruffling her hair, turned to the politely tipping-his-hat Captain Tomco. Her fluffy smile stiffened oddly.
"I know you, Tomco."
Tomco, head bowed waiting for her words, sensed something off in the lengthening silence.
Not attuned to invisible killing intent like my sisters and I, we checked Esen again. Her freeze wasn't just from Nidroga's 3.5-meter drop-hug.
Esen...
"...Tan, sis, and you twins back there."
"W-what?"
"If shit hits the fan, I'll buy time. Swim for it."
Turning from her chattering teeth, I scanned the endless ocean. No other islands or land in sight. Fat chance of escape. Dragons were faster anyway.
The beach air, once as warm as a mother's embrace, turned icy from one woman's silence. I stuck to Esen's plan: assume we're dead and tremble.
Swordsman Reni, sensing the same, slowly raised her shaking hand to her sword hilt. Elf Nenya gulped and reined in the fighters.
"Esen, Reni, please. Stay calm. If she didn't want to talk, she'd have chased us off the second we neared the island. Don't overreact and make it worse—"
"Listen to her. Even if they're my daughter's friends, get rowdy and I'll really get mad."
Chills ran down my spine. Nidroga's mom was watching us now.
"You too. Hands off."
Overwhelmed, Tomco—who'd grabbed his pistol and sword—dropped them fast. Even without her looking, he bowed deeper, as if denying intent.
"I apologize for all my rudeness. I know full well that when outsiders approach a dragon enclave, they must offer proper tribute to the mightiest lords on earth. But with our poor ship holed and unsure how long she'd hold—"
"Oh, that's an old rule nobody minds anymore. Outsiders sure remember it well, though. I'm not mad about that, hero Tomco. Not blaming anyone."
Nidroga's mom cradled her daughter like a nurse, lifting the sleeve of the borrowed sailor clothes. Bandages wrapped her arm thickly, disinfectant on her armpit.
"What mother wouldn't be furious if her daughter nearly died?"
"I deeply regret not ensuring your daughter's safety. We were caught up in—"
"No apologies! Mom, it was just—"
"I know. Nobody's fault. I've told you a million times—fly carefully in strong winds! Why make me worry?"
More loving concern than scolding, like sweet honey tea. I started to relax, thinking it wasn't so bad.
Then.
"Tribute, huh. Tribute..."
Adjusting Nidroga's clothes while checking her wounds, the mom tilted her head and stared Tomco down.
"That kid'll do."
"That kid?"
"I have brothers who spend their half-lives as dragons swimming with dolphins. They told me. Heard cannon fire, went to check—Sunsstorm's young hero..."
Her half-lidded eyes revealed yellow irises.
"Nearly killed my daughter. Where is he now?"
Dragon's Nest held far more variety than we'd expected. Behind the dense jungle stood a resort blending seamlessly with the scenery, like Cheseni's finest inn.
And the folks pouring out were just as diverse. Carpenters heading to fix the ship smashed by the red ship. Healers tending sailors slashed or lamed in the deck fight. Laborers fetching water to quench thirst or clean wounds.
Porters recognize porters, or so they say. No famous person ever said it, but the water-fetchers and I locked eyes and instantly knew our kind. We nodded in deep camaraderie.
Then a weird thought hit: What if they're dragons too? Porter aptitude with dragon strength—how many tons could they lift?
I shook off visions of market logic, obsolescence, unemployment horrors.
Something scarier lumbered by. A rock-colored dragon, maybe 10 meters tall, shaking a net in its mouth as it walked. Not tuna or marlin in the net—Morgan's hasty fetch from the cabin at Nidroga's mom's demand: the hero.
"Damn it, let me go! Moriba! Mindina! Where the hell are you useless bitches?! Send a messenger gull to Sunsstorm house! Tell 'em I've been taken by dragons!"
Harsh treatment for a double-leg amputee, but impressively vigorous screams for the injury. Hero bloodline made it possible.
I prayed he'd shut up for his precious house's sake. He didn't.
"Damn it, Captain Tomco! I said I'm sorry! My house'll pay ransom—put me down!"
Esen muttered, lips quivering.
"...There was a tigress who loved mountain climbing. Family pretended to worry it was dangerous for tigers, but she ignored them."
"I get where this is going."
"Then some white ant didn't like it, bit her eyelid. Tigress tumbled off the cliff, got banged up, but made it home. The ant bragged back at its towering mound. 'Queen! Queen! I nearly killed a tigress biting her.' What does the queen think hearing that? What happens to the anthill?"
"Alkark's Catastrophe."
Nenya gulped.
"The old kingdom where dragons took turns scorching day and night to punish the royal house that dared crack a dragon egg. Cross the monster-infested dark forest, and you can still see the perfectly preserved ruins."
"Glass doesn't rot."
Her eerie addendum made us clutch our chests and whirl around in panic. Reni, spotting Nidroga's grin, grumbled while clutching her knees.
"You nearly scared me to death, Nidroga!"
"No need to worry. Uncles were swimming nearby from the start—they sensed kin, came, and fished me out. Not as bad as you fear. No dragons buzzing Sunsstorm, no wars with kingdoms."
Nidroga spoke with conviction, then rolled her eyes and added an ominous caveat.
"If Sunsstorm acts wisely."
"...Mom."
"Not time to call her that yet. Sailors are getting treated, mom's anger's cooled. Time to enter the Dragon's Nest. Pick nice rooms first, wash up."
Proudly gesturing at the resort—lights twinkling like a bustling street, lively laughter echoing—Reni's eyes sparkled, rubbing hands excitedly now that tension eased.
"Heard about it from you forever, Nidroga, but never visited. This'll be fun."
"Every pleasure in the world."
Grinning and beckoning us, Nidroga blinked as something hit her.
"Almost forgot. Not important, but warning: don't eat whatever they give you."
"One bite?"
We learned at the entrance.
A dragon introducing himself as Nidroga's cousin-brother blocked us solemnly. Amid the festive clamor, he offered... something. Black as scorched flour's death throes, but suspiciously aromatic and moist.
"Whoa, what's this?"
"Cookie I made."
Reni reached with innocent glee; Nenya smacked her wrist and glared through the human-form dragon.
He nodded.
"Baked at home."
"Pass."
"It's good."
"Not eating."
"Tch."
The dragon—with sock lint, birthday popper bits snagged on hair and horns—glared and slunk off, bummed for reasons unknown. A different spine-tingle from facing Nidroga's mom.
That guy's eyes are weird. Off his rocker?
Monica sisters whispered tiny.
"What was that?"
"...Madness weed cookie."
"Madness?!"
"Not that, you dumb elf! Processed hempseed's a superfood! Good for constipation! Plant fats! Arginine too—"
"Not eating!"
Nenya shrieked gripping her staff; the cookie chef—Nidroga's cousin—pouted "watch me" and fled.
We warily scanned around.
And realized Nidroga had vanished.
Nenya, legs wobbling like orphaned ducklings' leader in the wild, menaced us.
"D-don't any of you leave my side...!"