CHAPTER 37: HOW TO TRAIN A DRAGONLING

Well, he didn’t expect this.

Because, really, nothing in the trailers suggested anything remotely like this.

Or... did they?

Riley vaguely remembered the game being marketed as peaceful. Calming. Maybe with the occasional mob encounter. Definitely nothing that involved panic-rolling through your own farm while fumbling this bad.

And yet that was what was happening right now.

Ah. Personified crops with the oddest attitudes, coupled with a spiritual livestock update that somehow made the animals more sensitive.

All those plus a relatively spoiled dragon child now trapped in the body of a weak, pixelated human equaled vindication.

And for reasons he couldn’t explain, Riley felt just a little bit vindicated.

At least in the digital realm, the great dragonling Orien now understood the mortal struggle.

Well, at least it was just in a game—because a dragon forced to live like a human in real life wouldn’t be nearly as amusing. It’d be more like the nearly helpless case of the not-so-little Orien.

When Riley first handed him the device, Orien looked at it like it was beneath him. A dull screen. A Pathetic small box. Clearly designed for people with nothing better to do.

But then Riley moved his in-game character into the nearby town.

Shops. People. A weird pixelated cat.

And just like that, Orien leaned in.

Then scooted closer.

Then started pointing.

"That one. Go there."

"Why aren’t you checking that place?"

"Talk to the lady with the green hat."

By the time the in-game day ended, the console was no longer in Riley’s hands. It had been formally requisitioned by the increasingly invested dragon, who muttered something about being able to do better.

He could not.

Barely five minutes in, Orien let out an offended huff. "Why did that blob attack me? How dare it!"

Riley blinked. "My lord, that’s a chicken. You probably hit it by accident."

"I was watering the plants!"

"Maybe it thought you were trying to drown it?"

But really, Riley couldn’t admit the truth because he didn’t have the heart to tell the mini dragon boss that the watering can looked nothing like the shovel that he was lugging around.

The aide figured that from now on, that was the chicken’s problem.

Then came the real chaos.

"Why is there a monster in my cave?!"

"That’s your mining dungeon."

"Excuse me—mining dungeon?!"

"Oh yeah, my lord. Those are pretty standard. You can unlock bombs later."

Orien turned to him, eyes wide with betrayal. "What sort of weakness is this?! Can’t you just step on it?!"

Riley took a slow sip of his water and gave a sympathetic shrug. "Welcome to farming as a human, my lord."

The silence that followed was glorious.

The dragonling stared at Riley with dawning horror.

But it was already too late.

Orien was hooked.

And to say this was the most peaceful exit Riley had ever made from the dragon daycare would be an understatement. No claws. No accusations. No pouting. No, "Why are you breathing so loudly today, you annoying mortal?" None of that.

Just the sound of muted clicking and one determined mini dragon glaring down at a farmstead.

Riley Hale had done the impossible.

He’d finally found the ancient, long-lost pacifier of dragons: a handheld console.

And honestly? He felt a little proud. No, deeply vindicated. For all the unpaid overtime, the surprise fireball incidents, and the ongoing suspicion that Kael might one day eat him out of sheer inconvenience—this felt like a win. A real one. He even left whistling.

If Orien could just play the game and experience the crushing grind of virtual capitalism and agricultural struggle, maybe he’d come to be a different child by tomorrow.

Well, who knew he would.

But by then, a certain dragon lord would also be a different kind of boss, one with the most unexpected problem.

Kael Dravaryn had no choice but to stay with this brat in his personal space until they figured out who dared to take a dragon from the nest.

Unfortunately, that meant returning to his personal hideout in the Ministry—something he’d been actively dreading.

Because Orien was insufferable.

Period.

And while that fact might be deliciously ironic to everyone else, Kael himself refused to see it as karmic retribution. No. Absolutely not. This was not cosmic justice for centuries of tyranny.

This was just... misfortune.

Still, he’d already resigned himself to another long night of surviving the most dangerous creature in his domain.

A bored adolescent with too much energy and no filter.

So he steeled himself.

Every scale and nerve was prepared for Orien’s barrage of demands, tantrums, or dramatic sighs that lingered like smoke in a sealed room.

So imagine his surprise when—

"Dragon Lord, welcome back!" Orien shot up from the center of the bed like a soldier reporting to duty, then sat straight down, back stiff, legs crossed, face serene.

Kael blinked.

No questions.

No dramatics.

No "What are you doing?" or "Why haven’t we caught them yet?" or the fan favorite, "What’s this smell?"

Just pure, unbothered concentration.

It was eerie.

Kael narrowed his eyes and followed the gaze. And there it was. That glowing rectangular contraption that Riley had delivered earlier.

So. That was the cause.

A human device.

But Kael didn’t comment. A quiet Orien was rare and valuable. A miracle not to be questioned.

He completed his reports, reviewed the week’s ministry complaints, approved two dragon-led initiatives, and eventually allowed himself to recline.

The silence was... divine.

Peaceful. Calming.

He was nearly asleep—

Until—

"HUH?!"

"WHAT—WHAT?!"

"NOOOOOOO!!"

A cry of such soul-wrenching grief echoed through the chamber that Kael bolted upright, wings flaring instinctively.

The temperature dropped. The air sizzled and magic surged.

He scanned the room with the speed of a battle-ready general, searching for an intruder, an ambush, a hidden spell—

There was nothing.

Except Orien.

Orien, who looked absolutely destroyed.

"Speak," Kael snapped.

The child’s eyes were wet. Red. Trembling.

"Uncle," Orien whimpered. "Uncle! Help me! It’s gone! They’re gone!"

Kael’s blood ran cold.

"Who is gone?" he demanded.

"My people!"

Kael blinked. "What."

"My blobs! My plants! My bomb! All gone!"

"...What?"

Orien thrust the handheld console into Kael’s hands like it was a dying comrade.

"LOOK!"

Kael stared.

But he didn’t know what he was looking at.

The screen was black.

Was something supposed to be there???