Reincarnation
I reincarnated.
When I came to my senses, I was a dragon.
Dragon—wyrm, Dragon, Satan's creature, the reptile that spews fire from its maw.
I was a little startled at first, but I quickly regained my composure. Back in my childhood, I'd devoured plenty of fantasy novels. These days they're rare, but back then, stories about reincarnating as a dragon and living a second life were everywhere.
By the clichés, a doting mother dragon who cherished her hatchling—her baby dragon—would appear any moment now. I'd bask in her love until I turned a thousand years old, learning magic under her wing.
It was ridiculous for a human who'd died before even hitting a hundred to talk about a thousand years... but the standard setup was that dragons spent most of that time in deep slumber anyway. So it was probably fine.
[Come on, then! Mother! I'm ready!]
And so I waited confidently for my mother dragon.
And waited.
An hour passed, then a day, a week, a month.
Only then did I realize something was wrong.
[...Mother?]
There was no mother dragon.
This wasn't just some tale of being abandoned.
There were no dragons in this world. Not a single higher creature worthy of the name existed.
[M-Mom...?]
In other words,
I hadn't been born as a baby dragon.
I was the first dragon.
In another world.
All alone.
Time passed.
Realizing I was the only intelligent being in this vast world,
I named myself and began surviving. For a modern human, sudden wild-man life was grueling, but my body was ridiculously overpowered.
Eating dirt, crunching rocks, devouring raw plants and animals that screamed "poison"—my guts handled it all without a hitch. I was bigger than an adult alligator from birth, strong enough to shatter trees with one swipe.
This insane physique let me thrive in the wilderness without help or know-how. It turned untamed nature into a playground.
Once survival was secure, I dove straight into magic development.
I need to invent magic.
Something different from my human days coursed through this body. It started at my heart, spread everywhere, then looped back—a circuit pulsing inside me.
I was sure it was mana. Sure, my keen senses might just be picking up blood flow, but that was too boring.
Besides.
It's way more fun that way.
Believing in magic was infinitely more entertaining. Since I'd reincarnated as a dragon anyway, inventing spells felt like the natural next step.
Maybe I just wanted to distract myself from dying alone forever, with no one to talk to.
Either way, years flew by as I tinkered with magic.
And I finally succeeded.
[Uwoooooh—! Fireball! Meraz! Fire!]
The crawling reptile had evolved into a fire-breathing dragon! Considering fire's discovery sparked human civilization, this was a monumental invention.
From there, basic spells led to polymorphing into a human, commanding nature, conjuring delicious food, soaring through the skies—and more.
I created every fantasy staple imaginable, using them to roam the world.
Wondering if any other intelligent life lurked out there.
I found cloud-scraping giants, birds with wings spanning horizons, even dragonkin like me—but...
Not one could converse.
[...None?]
It made sense, really. Their intelligence didn't seem far behind humans', but why would they need speech?
Language needs an "other." Even Einstein or Newton, locked in a room from birth, would end up mute.
No interlocutor, no blooming intellect.
I was the weird one—clinging to memories, believing in others, searching endlessly.
[Ha, haha—.]
I nearly crumbled then.
But a dragon's brilliant mind wouldn't even allow madness.
I just wallowed in gloom and despair... until I shook it off.
[Fine. If there are none, I'll make some.]
Earth's apes took millions of years to shed fur and become humans. Give an ape that time, and poof—human.
And I had time to burn. Instinct told me: near-infinite lifespan, near-immortal.
[Wait for it.]
And so,
I poured everything into creating new life.
Millennia passed.
No humans appeared.
The World Tree pierced the heavens like a skyscraper.
Elves gathered before it, chattering and laughing merrily.
Oddly, they all looked identical. Slight variations in hair length, height, bust size—but every one a golden-haired, big-breasted beauty.
Seeing cookie-cutter beauties chatting was eerie at first glance.
After a while, as if on cue, they dispersed like clockwork.
Among the elves heading to their posts, one remained: Eruel, chieftain of the elves and bearer of the title High Elf. She entered the World Tree.
Deep inside, at its heart, stood a mirror linked to the being the elves revered.
"—O Great One."
[...What is it?]
"I have a report."
The existence too sublime for any name but "Great One" responded to her call. Eruel knelt before the mirror and spoke of the strangers her patrolling elves had encountered.
"The children met strange beings during patrol."
[Strange beings?]
"Yes. They wore clothes blending into the forest like torn patches of it, had mismatched features and short ears, carried long metal sticks—and when they pointed them, thunder roared and beasts fell."
Eruel finished and waited for the Great One's reaction. Even glancing was blasphemy.
But after a long silence, she cautiously lifted her head to gauge the mood.
The Great One, hearing her tale, was trembling with excitement. More than Eruel had ever seen in centuries of service.
"Gr-Great One...?"
[—Go fetch that child.]
"Yes, right away!"
Moments later,
Eruel brought the trembling patrol elf before the mirror, per the Great One's command.
[Show me what you saw.]
"Y-Yes!"
You peered into the elf's memories with mighty magic. Eruel steadied the elf, who fainted from the brain-tickling extraction.
She stole a glance at the Great One in the mirror, still kneeling.
[UHAHAHAHAHA—!]
...What in the world.
The Great One before her was grinning ear-to-ear in pure joy. For reasons unknown.
Another sight unseen in centuries.
The air rippled, birthing a vivid portal that spat out people. Those who'd crossed the Gate on high alert lowered their weapons and spoke cautiously.
"Clear."
"No threats."
"Stay sharp. Never know what's here."
Exiting the Gate, they scanned knee-high brush and towering trees, chuckling wryly. This unmanaged wilderness screamed wild.
Maybe better than the Amazon—Earth's lungs—no bugs or venomous snakes, no sweltering heat.
Anyway.
"—Unbelievable."
The soldier confirmed safety, laughing hollowly as he took it in. Scientists had warned him, but seeing a real otherworld? Mind-blowing.
"Another world, huh..."
"Elves? Orcs?"
"Avoid contact. No telling what monsters lurk."
"Psh, monsters? This'll shred anything."
"...You."
The squad leader smirked at his subordinate hoisting a personal firearm—the Small Railgun—but inwardly agreed.
Monsters or not, nothing survived Mach 7 steel slugs that punched tanks.
As armed soldiers secured the Gate perimeter,
the Stars and Stripes on their shoulders gleamed in the light.