Atlantis Continent, the Ser Wilderness.
A black-feathered, red-beaked eagle soared through the skies, its wings cutting through lush mountain forests, crystal-clear erald lakes, and endless wilderness before gradually slowing its flight. Finally, it perched on a jagged cliff, preening its feathers while gazing downward.
Below lay a massive crater resembling the aftermath of a teor impact.
The central area contained forests and rivers, surrounded by steep, protruding cliffs on all sides.
The black-feathered eagle tilted its head in puzzlent, its vision capturing a peculiar sight at the crater's base - a creature repeatedly summoning all its strength to crash its fleshly body against the rocky cliffs.
asuring approximately six ters from head to tail, the creature possessed scales, horns, dual wings, and a lengthy tail - unmistakably a young dragon, though of an unusual variety unlike any common species.
Its head resembled that of a red dragon, complete with swept-back draconic horns. However, the horn bases were encased in shovel-shaped tallic bone structures, forming angular protrusions reminiscent of knightly helts.
Layer upon layer of overlapping scales covered its body, their base color a silver-flecked black with surface patterns resembling molten lava flowing across iron plates, emitting a dark crimson sheen. The scale edges were razor-sharp, refracting obsidian-like cold light with each breath, giving the entire body a distinctly tallic quality.
Though still a juvenile, this dragon already exuded a fearso majesty far surpassing ordinary beasts, with exceptionally robust limbs, tail, and wings.
Boom!
Garoth's unusually broad wings for a young dragon beat powerfully as he accelerated headfirst into the cliff base, sending stone fragnts flying and dust billowing outward.
Shaking his head vigorously, the young dragon extracted his cranium and forebody from the shattered rock. Garoth gave his scales a full-body shake, dislodging trapped gravel and accumulated dust from between his plating. Having satisfied the observing eagle's curiosity with his daily mountain-bashing ritual, he settled beside the freshly created cavity to rest.
"Six years already since becoming a dragon," Garoth mused internally, studying his talons as he repeatedly flexed and clenched them.
He - or more accurately, the consciousness inhabiting this draconic form - was no ordinary wyrmling.
Firstly, he was a hybrid of red and iron dragon bloodlines, evident from his distinctive appearance. While red-iron hybrids were rare, they still fell within natural possibilities.
Both red and iron dragons represented archetypal evil dragons, equally obsessed with power and might. One stood as leader among chromatic dragons, the other foremost among ferrous dragons. Normally these breeds maintained fierce rivalry, often clashing upon eting. Yet as kindred spirits worshipping strength, combat could unpredictably transform into courtship when sparks flew between particularly matched individuals.
The true abnormality lay within - this red-iron wyrmling housed a human soul transmigrated from another world.
Yes, Garoth was an otherworlder.
The reasons for his crossing remained opaque, and he'd long ceased pondering them as pointless. The draconic form offered vastly superior physical capabilities compared to humanity, and after six years imrsed in dragon life influenced by inherited mories, his human consciousness had fully integrated with draconic nature.
The fusion produced a personality dominantly draconic in its pursuit of power and strength, yet tempered by human logic and wisdom. He possessed a dragon's resilience and might without succumbing to their characteristic arrogance, vanity, or pathological hoarding instincts.
In essence: retaining the strengths while discarding the weaknesses.
Raising a forelimb, Garoth carefully probed the cranial plating he'd been battering against stone. The facial armor's fine scales and cresting horns felt perceptibly more solid beneath his touch.
"The improvent's subtle, but my body's definitely grown tougher," the satisfied wyrmling nodded, his bladed tail carving intricate patterns in the earth as it swayed.
Over six years, Garoth had ticulously studied his draconic physiology. Beyond inherent draconic marvels, he'd discovered - likely due to the unique confluence of hybrid ancestry and human soul - an additional innate gift absent in normal dragons:
Adaptive Evolution.
Initially imperceptible, this talent's effects had been negligible during his first two years. Even now its workings remained gradual, requiring relentless daily conditioning to trigger minor evolutionary steps, each demanding substantial nutritional support.
Years of effort had rely rendered Garoth's physique notably sturdier than typical wyrmlings, his scales developing tallic properties unusually early.
However.
With consistent application and natural maturation, the talent itself evolved - each year's enhancents surpassed the last, with no discernible ceiling yet observed.
As any student of fantasy biology knew, evolutionary abilities represented suprely broken gifts, and Garoth harbored soaring expectations for his future.
"Between dragons' enduring lifespans, our natural age-based strengthening, and my adaptive evolution," Garoth contemplated happily, "given sufficient ti, I'll develop capabilities beyond imagination."
Turning toward the formidable cliff face, the muscular wyrmling backed several paces before charging forth once more, sending earth and stone flying in his wake.
Glorious futures remained daydreams for now.
Presently... there were still mountains to headbutt.
This constituted rely one of Garoth's daily training regins. Others included but weren't limited to: aerial free-fall impacts, self-immolation in bonfires, submission to his iron dragon mother's tail-whipping discipline, and underwater asphyxiation endurance tests.
Ti flowed steadily onward.
The sun dipped westward, eventually nestling into distant peaks as star-studded night descended. Twin moons - one waxing crescent, one perpetually full - cast their luminous glow, ensuring the darkness never grew oppressive.
Concluding his lithic assault, Garoth withdrew from the noticeably deford mountainside.
Similar impact craters dotted the surrounding cliffs - all testants to the wyrmling's dedication.
Approaching mirror-still lakeshores sent local wildlife scattering in panic, which Garoth ignored as he noisily gulped copious water before turning moonward.
Of the dual satellites, one displayed conventional phases while its companion remained eternally, artificially full - this "False Moon" actually being an extramagical fortress constructed by the elven empire Nausil.
Beyond this artificial lunar body, nurous twinkling "stars" likewise represented magical satellites launched by various empires across the firmant.
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