The window appeared in her vision just as she was counting coins for the third time that morning.

  Barjuchne froze mid-count, her claws hovering over a stack of silver, and stared at the glowing text that materialised before her eyes.

  A second window replaced the first, offering her two distinct paths forward.

  Barjuchne read both options carefully, her tail swishing behind her in thought. The hydra path sounded powerful, but the water dependency bothered her. Her cave was on a mountain. The nearest significant water source was the brook in the forest far below, and relying on it felt like a weakness she couldn't afford. In her current environment, it really wasn’t an option, was it?

  The wyvern path, though. Flight. Better breath control. A stronger physical presence.

  She chose that option without further hesitation on the matter.

  Heat flooded her body the moment she confirmed her selection, far more intense than any previous evolution before. Barjuchne dropped to her knees, gasping, as her bones cracked and reformed. It actually hurt a lot this time. Her shoulder blades split open, and she screamed as her growing wings tore through her flesh, unfurling in their full span in a spray of blood and flaked scales.

  They were magnificent. Massive, leathery membranes stretched between elongated finger-thin bones, dark as midnight. They were shot through with visible veins that pulsed with draconic power.

  Sitting back upright, she spread them experimentally, and they filled the central chamber, each wingbeat creating gusts that scattered coins across the floor.

  Her frame grew denser, her muscles compacting and strengthening. Her chest expanded, her lungs enlarging to accommodate the enhanced breath capacity. The small horns that had sprouted from her skull extended in full length, curving backward elegantly like a ram’s, and when she looked down at herself, her body had transformed into something frighteningly beautiful and undeniably powerful.

  She looked every inch the predator she was meant to be.

  A new window appeared as the transformation completed.

  Before she could process her new form, another window materialised.

  Barjuchne stared at the quest requirements. Sixty days. Ten chambers. Three monster types.

  She looked around at her cave, which suddenly felt very small and very inadequate, then at the entrance where she could hear the goblins making camp in the forest beyond.

  She had work to do.

  The first chamber she carved was practical.

  Veliah needed a kitchen. The elf had been cooking over open fires in the main chamber for weeks now, and while Barjuchne didn't particularly care about such things, she'd noticed Veliah's frustrated sighs every time she had to improvise.

  She pressed her palm against the stone wall adjacent to Veliah's room and felt the dungeon's power flow through her fingers. The rock became malleable and responsive, and she shaped it with careful precision. A cooking area with a proper ventilation shaft that led to the surface. Stone counters. A fire pit with adjustable vents. Storage alcoves for supplies.

  When she finished, she stepped back and examined her work. It was functional. Veliah would appreciate it.

  Probably. The elf seemed unhappy about the new company. Maybe this would balm her soured mood a little.

  The goblin princess needed quarters of her own as well. Barjuchne carved another chamber next to Veliah's, this one smaller but still comfortable. She added a bed, a table, and some basic furnishings. The goblin princess hadn't complained about sleeping in the main chamber, but having her constantly visible was... exhausting.

  Dragon or not, Barjuchne appreciated her solitude when she could get it.

  Not that Barjuchne didn't think she was fine enough. But she just needed space. Lots of space. Away from people.

  The irony wasn't lost on her. She’d collected princesses because her dragon instincts demanded it, but in her old life, she was an introvert. Wasn’t she?

  It’s hard to remember at this point. That old existence had become a blur.

  Nonetheless, life was hard when your biology conflicted with your own inner nature.

  From the outside, her frantic burrowing probably looked like enthusiasm. Draconic zeal for expansion and fortification of the territory. The goblins certainly seemed to think so, praising her tireless work ethic and dedication.

  The reality was that Barjuchne was an introvert who suddenly had some fifty people living in her home, and she was quietly losing her mind.

  Frantically, the dragon dug deeper.

  Much deeper.

  The dragon clan tribe moved into the front chambers of the dungeon.

  They organised themselves with surprising efficiency, claiming rooms and hallways and establishing a defensive perimeter around the dungeon entrance. Their hunters went out daily, returning with game and foraged supplies. Their craftsmen began working on proper traps to replace Barjuchne's crude attempts that had nonetheless served well enough during the knight's incursion.

  And they swore, loudly and repeatedly, to defend their Dragon Queen's territory with their lives.

  Barjuchne appreciated that a lot, actually. It saved her a lot of work. But she still went out of her way to terrify them so they would stop talking to her so much.

  The goblin princess found her one morning while she was carving out the seventh chamber. Veliah was with her, and they approached cautiously, as if approaching a wild animal.

  "We wanted to thank you," Veliah said. Her voice was soft, careful. "For the kitchen. And for the amenities."

  Barjuchne didn't look up from her work. "You needed them."

  "Still. It was thoughtful," said Veliah.

  The goblin princess nodded. She was small, barely coming up to Barjuchne's waist, her pale green skin almost luminescent in the torchlight. "The tribe is grateful as well," she says, but seems almost let down for some reason as she sighs.

  Barjuchne grunted and continued shaping the stone.

  There was a long, awkward silence.

  "We were wondering," Veliah continued, "if there's anything we can do to help."

  A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  "No," replied Barjuchne firmly. “Leave.”

  The way she meant it was, ‘No, this is dangerous work and you’re likely to get hurt. Please let me handle it and stay somewhere safe.’ But the way it came out was much less restrained.

  Another silence.

  "Are you sure? Because —"

  Barjuchne looked back at them over her shoulder.

  Both of them took an involuntary step backward. Barjuchne's new draconic presence radiated from her without conscious effort, making the air feel heavy and oppressive.

  She didn't mean to scare them. But they didn't know that. They saw the wings, the horns, and the eyes that glowed, and they retreated quickly, murmuring apologies.

  Barjuchne sighed and went back to digging. She feels bad, but she can’t handle this right now. She needed to be alone for at least a week to recover from this much social interaction. The dragon girl stopped for a second, turning her head to look in confusion at the little ant that walked past her, carrying a tiny stone in her mandibles as she, apparently, was helping to dig.

  “At least you understand me,” she said to the ant, almost jokingly, in quiet exasperation.

  The ant, however, did not respond as she walked away to place the pebble-crumb of rock onto a small pile of rubble.

  After all, she was, as always before, simply an ant.

  The cave-in happened on the fourteenth day.

  Barjuchne was working on the ninth chamber, burrowing deep into the mountain's heart, when she felt the stone shift wrong elsewhere in the dungeon. She stopped, sensing the shift in the mountain’s rock.

  In the central chamber, the ceiling groaned. Dust rained down from above.

  She barely had time to turn and start running backward at full speed before the entire section collapsed over the heads of the goblin workers who were expanding and fortifying the central chamber. Underestimating the ability of the dungeon to alter its own shape and stonework to adapt, they had dug wrong and triggered a collapse.

  Rock thundered down in a deafening avalanche, filling the tunnel and sending shockwaves through the entire dungeon. Somewhere ahead, beyond the rubble, she heard screaming.

  Her claws dug into the rubble, tearing away rocks the size of her torso and flinging them aside. Her wings spread for balance as she lifted a massive boulder and hurled it down the tunnel behind her. Dust choked the air. Her muscles screamed in protest, but she didn't stop.

  She could hear them beneath the stone.

  She dug faster.

  Her hands bled where sharp edges of obsidian glass from the mountain sliced through even her own scales. Her breath came in ragged gasps. But she carved a path through the collapse with raw determination and impossible strength, refusing to let her survival instincts tell her to abandon them and preserve herself before something else collapses over her head.

  Maybe it wasn’t well-wishing so much as it was her draconic, greedy heart telling her to protect anything that is hers that guides this effort. But the result was the same in the end.

  They were hers. Her responsibility.

  The first goblin she pulled free was unconscious but breathing. The second was crying, his leg crushed but salvageable. The third was pinned beneath a boulder too large for even her to lift directly.

  Barjuchne braced her back against the ceiling, planted her feet, and pushed.

  The boulder shifted. Inch by agonising inch, she forced it upward, her entire body trembling with effort, until there was enough space for the goblin to be dragged free by his companions.

  Then she let it drop and collapsed against the wall, panting.

  Rou-ya, the goblin princess, appeared in the tunnel entrance, her eyes wide. She and many others come running at the sound of the collapse, and now she stands frozen, staring at Barjuchne covered in dust and blood, surrounded by the rescued goblins.

  The princess didn't say anything. She just helped the injured goblins back to the main chambers where they could be tended.

  Barjuchne found the hot spring, deep, deep down below the mountain on the nineteenth day.

  Her claws broke through into a natural cavern deep in the mountain's heart, and steam billowed out through the opening. She widened the hole and slipped inside the cavern, her eyes adjusting to the lightlessness.

  The chamber was just right. Her instincts told her as much. It was exactly what she was looking for.

  A natural hot spring bubbled up from cracks in the bedrock, filling a large pool with water that steamed and shimmered. The heat was intense, almost overwhelming, and every dragon instinct in her body sang with approval.

  Deep. Hot. It was the perfect new spot for a horde. Plus, it's the deepest part of the new dungeon, far, far away from where others usually roamed. It would be nice and quiet. She’s had a hell of a time trying to sleep on her hoard these last few nights, with so many goblins roaming around. She had contemplated moving everything into Veliah’s room and staying there with her, but there simply wouldn’t have been enough space for the elf after all the treasure was put inside too.

  — Obviously she couldn’t sleep without her treasure.

  She took one step forward, and her foot came down on something that crumbled.

  She looked down. At the edge of the pool, arranged in a ring that followed the water's natural border, were the remains of flowers. Or what had been flowers once. They had calcified over time, turning pale and brittle, their original colour long since bleached away. But the arrangement was deliberate. She could see that even in this state. They had been placed with care, each stem set at an even distance from the next, the ring complete and unbroken all the way around the pool's circumference.

  She considered them for a moment. That doesn’t make sense. How did flowers of all things get down here, in the deep underground of a sealed chamber?

  Perhaps this was another remnant of a previous inhabitant. Curious.

  Then she swept her tail through the near side of the ring as she stepped forward and lowered herself into the water. The brittle remains scattered and crumbled further, dust drifting out across the pool's surface before the heat dissolved them entirely.

  Barjuchne spent the next three days reshaping the cavern, smoothing the walls, and creating a platform where her treasure could rest above the water level. She added a smaller pool to one side for bathing and carved channels to direct excess water away elsewhere into a reservoir.

  Hot steam rose upward through the dungeon’s tunnels from its newest core, flooding toward the upper passages and wafting out of the obsidian gate like foggy breath.

  When Barjuchne finished, she moved her entire hoard down to the new chamber that resembled an ornate, beautiful bathhouse more than a cave.

  Every coin. Every candlestick. Every piece of armour and silk and treasure she'd accumulated. She arranged it all carefully on the stone platform, then spread her quilt over the top and lay down, exhaling in peace after weeks of nothing but toil and stress.

  By the twentieth day, the dungeon’s upgrades were nearly complete.

  Ten chambers were carved and furnished. The goblin tribe had proven invaluable, their craftsmen creating sophisticated traps that made her own previous attempts look pathetic by comparison. They made hidden pressure plates that released poison gas made from fungal spores. They made collapsing floors with carefully hidden supports. They made tripwires connected to remarkably terrifying blade pendulums.

  The goblin hunters kept everyone fed, bringing back deer and wild boar and small game. Barjuchne hadn't needed to hunt herself in over a week. After her rescue of the trapped workers, there was a great fervour in the goblin tribe to work harder on her behalf.

  Barjuchne still needed two more monster types as defenders on top of the goblins to satisfy the quest requirements to better defend her dungeon, but that could wait. For now, she just wanted to rest.

  Exhausted and spent, the dragon girl descended to her hot spring chamber and sank into the water with a deep, satisfied sigh. Her body went limp, her wings spreading across the surface, and she let her eyes drift closed.

  Perfect.

  Finally. Peace.

  She was finally at peace.

  A tension left her that she wasn’t even aware of carrying. Her neck and shoulders ached as they let go of the tightness they had been holding for weeks now.

  It’s quiet. She loved that.

  But then, footsteps echoed down the tunnel.

  The dragon’s eyes snapped open.

  Veliah and the goblin princess, Rou-ya, appeared at the chamber entrance, both wrapped in very simple cloth wraps that were clearly meant to be only temporary. They stopped when they saw her, their expressions uncertain.

  Embarrassed at seeing them approaching like that from afar with her keen dragon eyes, Barjuchne's body temperature spiked involuntarily. The water around her began to heat up further, sending up great clouds of vapour that filled the chamber and obscured her from view.

  "I’d like to join you," Veliah said. Her voice was steady, but Barjuchne could see the tension in her frame as she fought her fear. "If that's okay."

  “We”, added the goblin princess, side-eyeing her competitor. “Great dragon.”

  Two red glowing eyes stared out from the mist, quite menacingly by physical design even if behind them is no actual malice.

  Barjuchne's mind was screaming. Internally, Barjuchne was having a panic attack. Her heart hammered. Her claws flexed beneath the water. Every social anxiety she'd ever possessed came flooding back at once.

  Externally, she managed a single, curt nod. "Do what you want." Her voice came out cold and dismissive.

  It sounded like perfect draconic indifference.

  Veliah and Rou-ya exchanged glances, then carefully disrobed and slipped into the water on the opposite side of the pool. The steam was still thick enough that they could barely see each other, which Barjuchne desperately hoped would remain the case.

  An endless, eternal scream that never stopped filled her mind.

  The steam rose in thick curtains around them, turning the world soft and indistinct. Veliah moved through the water slowly, carefully, watching the glowing eyes that tracked her movement from across the pool.

  Barjuchne remained perfectly still, like a statue carved from black stone, radiating heat.

  Veliah had noticed things lately. Small things. The way her heart beat faster when the dragon girl returned from an outing. The way she found excuses to be near her, to watch her work, to speak with her even when conversation inevitably went wrong. It was confusing, this growing warmth in her chest that competed with the very rational fear of a creature who could tear through her spine without effort.

  But beneath the terror, beneath the awkwardness and the miscommunication, there was kindness. Barjuchne had carved her a room. Built her the things that resembled a home. The dragon buried the skeletons that had filled the cave so she wouldn't have to look at them. The dragon even saved those goblins from a cave-in when she could have left them to die.

  She was scary, yes. But kind.

  Veliah wanted more of that kindness. Needed it, maybe. Maybe it was some complex about her past neglect that she was trying to compensate for. She wasn’t sure.

  Ever since the goblins arrived, Barjuchne had been retreating away, even from her. Veliah wasn’t sure why, but it made her uneasy. She needed to remedy the matter.

  There was also the matter of the goblin princess. Competition. A merchant's daughter understood the concept of competition and understood that allowing others to establish value in a market decreased her own share of said market. Perhaps this was the reason. Barjuchne had joked about it before, with the ant that she called her ‘predecessor’.

  What if the goblin was the next stage in all of this? What if she herself was now the predecessor to a real princess, goblin or not?

  Veliah was certain. She needed to secure her own position or risk losing her share in the market.

  The elf settled against Barjuchne's side, the dragon's scales surprisingly smooth beneath her skin. The heat was intense, almost uncomfortable, but she pressed closer anyway, resting her head on the dragon's shoulder, where it hadn’t lain in many days.

  At her touch, Barjuchne went rigid.

  The water around them began to simmer. It was almost too hot. Was this some kind of warning? A dragon’s passive threat? Veliah could imagine that the dragon was sending her a message to stay away, or else. It was like a growl.

  But Veliah ignored it, letting her hand drift down beneath the surface to rest on Barjuchne's thigh.

  This was very dangerous. If the dragon lashed out at her in annoyance, she could slice her clean open by mistake.

  Ultimately, Veliah decided the risk was worth it and settled in more comfortably, her fingers tracing idle patterns along scaled skin beneath the water.

  There was no way she was going to be replaced by a goblin, of all things.

  Rou-ya watched from the opposite side of the pool, her golden eyes sharp despite the steam.

  There was a problem. A significant one.

  She planned to come here to escape her tribe, to get away from the suffocating expectations and the endless duties of being their princess. The dragon was supposed to be her solution.

  But the tribe had followed her here.

  They'd moved into the dungeon's entrance, swearing loyalty to their new Dragon Queen, which meant the goblin princess was right back where she started. She was surrounded. She was trapped and expected to be involved in leadership she had no interest in. The only difference is that instead of being in a village, she was in a cave now.

  But she could find peace from them, at least in the depths of the lair, away from her elders and her mother’s expectations and lectures. They all stayed up near the entrance. They were all terrified of the Dragon Queen.

  Rou-ya understood that she could use this to her own advantage.

  If the dragon was fond of her, if the dragon didn’t constantly snarl and send her away in what seemed to be annoyance at her presence, then she could stay in the depths away from her tribe. She would earn herself the dragon’s trust to wander the depths and maybe even, with enough work, wander the world.

  Yes, her hastily made plan hadn’t unfolded exactly as expected. But the Dragon Queen was still here and was still useful to Rou-ya’s ambitions. And, after having seen the seeds of kindness somewhere within the beast’s dark heart over these past few weeks, Rou-Ya is certain there is a flower there to be watered.

  She needed to secure her position. Permanently.

  The elf was a problem. The dragon had already taken her as her first bride, making Rou-ya her second and, so, marking the goblin princess as being inherently less powerful in the hierarchy of the Dragon Queen’s realm.

  If she wanted her plan to unfold, then she needed to become the favourite, especially with this elf sitting there looking entirely too comfortable against the dragon's other side. Even if Barjuchne snapped, the two of them clearly already had a bond.

  The goblin princess Rou-ya moved through the water with deliberate grace, positioning herself on Barjuchne's opposite side. She pressed herself against the dragon's arm as the elf does, feeling the incredible strength coiled beneath the scales and muscle of her body.

  The goblin princess settled more firmly against Barjuchne, tilting her head to look up at the dragon's face through the mist. Her hand slipped beneath the water, finding Barjuchne's thigh. Then, her fingers traced along and she felt…

  — Another hand. Veliah's.

  They both froze, looking at each other.

  Their fingers touched beneath the water, and the two of them yelped in surprise, jerking back and splashing out of the water in surprise.

  Somewhere in the backdrop of that mess, amongst the golden heap of treasure, a lonesome ant crawled along the mountain of steam-dripping gold, entirely uninvolved in whatever is happening down there.

  She was much too dignified to partake in such childish games of political intrigue.

  Little do those two fools know that she was, and had always been, the dragon’s first and favourite. Of this, the ant princess was certain.

  At least, she was as much so as an ant was capable of thinking such things.

  Elsewhere. Elsewhen.

  The soldier collapsed before the throne, gasping.

  He'd run for three days straight, barely stopping to eat or sleep, driven by terror and the desperate need to report what he'd seen. The guards had found him stumbling through the gates at dawn, half-dead from exhaustion, and dragged him directly to the throne room.

  Now he knelt on cold marble, his head bowed, staring at the shadowy figure seated above him.

  "Speak," the voice commanded. It was deep and cultured, edged with barely contained impatience.

  The soldier swallowed hard. "My lord. Sir Malwas... he's dead. His entire retinue was slaughtered."

  "By whom?"

  "A dragon, my lord."

  Silence fell over the throne room.

  "Explain."

  The soldier told his story in broken fragments. The journey to retrieve the merchant's daughter. The cave in the mountains. The traps. The screaming. The creature that had torn through armoured men as if they were made of paper.

  "I was the only one who escaped," he finished. "I ran. I didn't stop running until I reached the gates."

  The shadowy figure leaned forward, and torchlight caught the edge of a sharp, calculating smile.

  "A dragon," he murmured. "How interesting. And you say it has a hoard? Treasure? A captive?"

  "Yes, my lord. The cave was full of gold. And it took Sir Malwin’s bride and kept her as a bound slave."

  The figure stood, his robes rustling in the silence.

  "Summon the council. Prepare my troops. If there's truly a dragon in my territory, it will be slain like all of its predecessors."

  The guards bowed low and retreated, dragging the haggard man out with them.

  Behind them, the local lord smiled into the darkness and began to plan. This opportunity would be how he ascends to power. He would take the dragon’s treasures and head. Even the king himself would need to acknowledge him. The people would support his ascension toward the highest courts, where he would secure his bloodline by taking the fair hand of the kingdom’s royal princess.

  The lower noble and governor of the region, Parsmuth, sat again and had his head resting on his fist as he plotted. “The last dragonslayer,” mused the man out loud to himself in the darkness with a hint of curious joy in his voice. He rather liked that title. It is one that would open every door this world has to offer.

  It would be his.

  ? HARVESTING GENIUSES ?

  Sometimes, knowing the truth is a curse.

  Rapid Progression: The protagonist possesses a solid foundation and will undergo rapid development once he successfully establishes his footing.

  Mentorship & Relationships: The story involves raising a child and teaching disciples. A diverse cast of characters will gradually reveal themselves and develop alongside the protagonist.

  Pacing: Intense combat scenes are rhythmically interspersed with relaxing, slice-of-life narrative segments.

  Business Building: Economic activities extend beyond farming and monster hunting. The protagonist engages in various ventures, such as opening a school, writing books, making media appearances, and land development.

  Escalating Stakes: The narrative scale will continuously climb, increasing in intensity in tandem with the character's growth.

  ? 40+ Chapters | 100,000+ Words ?

  ! A higher rating attracts new readers who can support me, so I can write more for you!

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