Reincarnated as a blue dragon, he collided head-on with a wizarding civilization.

In the year 427 of the Blood Era, wizards who came from across dimensions devised a plan and successfully captured the Blood God, Freud, imprisoning him in outer space.

Since that year, a second moon has risen in the night sky over the continent of Valen.

Starting from that year, the gods, who had been locked in a civil war, suddenly ceased hostilities. The gods put aside their millennia-long grudges and turned their attention to the invaders who had descended from beyond the world.

Since then, the wars waged by wizards have continued to this day without ceasing.

Under the shadow of this protracted war of gods, the landscape of the continent of Valen was quietly changing.

Because their own venerated deity was arrested, the once-powerful and prestigious Holy Blood Clan gradually declined and perished.

Meanwhile, in the southeastern corner of the continent, a towering structure made entirely of obsidian pierced the sky and stood tall amidst the clouds.

The Tower of Holy Blood: The Wizarding Academy distributes enrollment brochures to all intelligent life on the continent of Valen, embracing education without discrimination.

The meditation method that Motu just tried is the [Red Moon Meditation Method] that is widely spread in the Tower of Holy Blood.

This method is simple: any living being on the continent can look up at night and contemplate the blood moon in the sky, using the power dissipated by the imprisoned deity to temper their spiritual sea.

It has wide applicability and strong versatility, and is basically not picky about race or qualifications.

Any intelligent being with the potential to become a wizard can cultivate on its own.

Moreover, with a genuine deity as its energy core, the meditation efficiency is surprisingly high, far surpassing the scattered, unorthodox meditation methods found elsewhere, and has quickly become mainstream.

Even Motu, a soul who had traveled from Earth, had to admire such a feat.

It is truly magnificent.

On this continent of Valen, the Age of Dragons is long gone, with only a few dragon islands scattered across the world. The subsequent Age of Gods, like an iron curtain in the sky, has shrouded the land for tens of thousands of years, remaining steadfast and unmoving.

Now, the wizard has lifted a corner of it.

Although many native inhabitants on the continent harbored doubts about this foreign force and questioned whether they had enough power to overthrow the belief system that the continent of Valen had built up over tens of thousands of years, Motu, who came from Blue Star, was ultimately more inclined to bet on this newly arrived wizard civilization.

only--

To become a wizard, meditation is the most basic of all, one could even say the foundation upon which one is built.

But he was never able to get the hang of it.

Dragons are born with an extremely high affinity for magic and an exceptionally abundant capacity for magical energy. Even Motu, who is only a Frostborn with a bloodline concentration of 21.4%, can instinctively cast some simple lightning spells.

But the path of a wizard has its own unique characteristics.

It does not resonate with the magic network of the goddess of magic, but rather bypasses the restrictions of the gods by recording spells in basic runes, and resonates directly with the elements of heaven and earth when used.

This method of resonating with the elements through spell runes requires extremely precise conscious control, pursuing accurate scheduling at the microscopic level.

For dragons, releasing magic is like opening a floodgate.

Instinct, brutal, and exhilarating.

Precise control?

That has never been a strong suit of dragons.

Therefore, it is naturally a relatively difficult path for a dragon to embark on the path of a wizard.

Moreover, not all dragons are interested in the path of wizards.

For example, shark white.

"You're messing around with your meditation method again."

A lazy sound came from the river.

Mo Tu looked in the direction of the sound.

Unbeknownst to them, Shark White had awakened from its light slumber and lay comfortably on the riverbed, with only its head above the water.

The moonlight fell on its silvery-white scales, giving them a cool, pearly glow, like a piece of beautiful jade immersed in the river.

"Isn't it good for the dragon's nest army to work under the Mother of the Nest?"

Shark White yawned, its three-layered serrations gleaming coldly in the moonlight.

"You really want to go to that tower?"

Motu did not answer directly, but calmly stated: "The Tower of Holy Blood is not a small force."

Even our Dragon Nest Mother, Lady Olpesia, is employed by those wizards to guard this Darkwater River basin and defend against the invasion of the Kingdom of Shane from the east.

Even if you leave here, you'll have to join the Dragon's Nest Legion and patrol day and night under the command of the Dragonkin Overlord.

"If I can really join the Dragon's Nest Legion, then this place isn't bad."

Shark White chuckled, his tone tinged with anticipation.

"My bloodline concentration is slightly lower than yours. Lady Olpesia commands quite a few true dragons, the kind of pure-blooded dragons that have awakened their bloodline inheritance."

If I'm lucky enough to follow a pure-blooded white dragon, spending every day with it might significantly increase my bloodline strength. That would increase both my individual potential and lifespan.

If he achieves further military merits and receives rewards from the Nest Mother, it's not impossible that he might even awaken into a true dragon.

Motu rolled his eyes: "You're always dreaming about such wishful thinking."

Shark White grinned, not refuting, but lazily rolled over, letting the river water cover his back.

On the other hand, although he refuted it on the surface, Mo Tu knew that what Shark White said was not entirely impossible.

In ancient times, dragons or sub-dragons like them, who had never been able to utter their true names, had absolutely no chance of becoming true dragons later in life.

The constraints of bloodline are like an insurmountable chasm, and one's birth is predetermined from the moment of hatching.

But everything changed after the God of Blood was captured by those wizards.

With the divine authority out of balance, the once-stable shackles of bloodlines in this plane began to loosen. For the first time, the beings inhabiting the continent of Valen had the possibility of bloodline evolution.

After the group of wizards began their experimental project to analyze the divine personality of the God of Blood, they produced many research results that could change the world.

As one of the top bloodlines on the continent of Valen, their research findings can have some effect on dragon creatures.

Rumors have long circulated among the dragon race that the high-level wizards, based on the extraction framework deciphered from the divine essence, have refined an extraction liquid that can significantly increase the bloodline concentration of dragon creatures.

Even just one bottle is enough to break through the shackles of a pseudo-dragon and transform it into a true dragon.

Lady Olpesia, the Mother of Dragon's Nest, collaborated with the Academy of Holy Blood, partly through her dragons providing blood samples to the high-ring wizards. The research findings were then applied to the Dragon's Nest Legion stationed in the Darkwater River Basin.

As a result, over the past few centuries, the dragon army under Lady Olpesia's command has experienced explosive and rapid growth.

Although pure-blooded true dragons are still rare, there are countless dragon beasts and sub-dragons such as Motu and Shark White.

Those dragon beasts that were unable to utter their true names at birth were no longer killed as a disgrace, but were instead raised in the farms under the command of the authorities, waiting for the extremely rare bloodline awakening.

By naming it "Frosty Embryo," a glimmer of hope was left.

Shark White was the lucky one who had significantly increased his bloodline concentration by sheer chance, a very low probability occurrence.

According to it, one day it was just taking a bath in this river when it suddenly felt a mysterious energy rising in its body, as if its blood was burning and boiling.

When it awoke from the excruciating pain, the concentration of white dragon blood in its body had increased significantly.

Not only did his physical fitness reach a new level, but he also activated a special ability: the strange ability to move freely through the mud.

Since then, it has enjoyed taking baths even more.

"I tried your lousy meditation method when I first arrived."

The white shark flipped over in the water, splashing up a spray of water.

"I tried it once, but it didn't work. I got frustrated and just left it aside. I'd rather spend that time soaking in the river."

"You were just lucky. Your bloodline mutated and improved on its own due to the interaction of your auras."

Motu withdrew his gaze from the blood moon, his tone calm.

Not everyone has your luck.

"That's true."

Shark White didn't mince words, chuckling twice before turning to look at Motu and suddenly asking again, "Three more are needed?"

"Um."

"Shall we continue tomorrow?"

"To be continued tomorrow."

--------

The next day.

Before the morning mist had dissipated, two young dragon beasts, one blue and one white, had already left the cave and ventured deep into the heart of the Dark Forest.

"Over here."

Motu stopped in front of a huge banyan tree, his nostrils flaring as he tried to catch the lingering magical scent in the air.

"It has a strong, musty smell."

"We've finally found one!!"

Upon hearing this, Shark White, his face beaming with excitement, hurriedly walked to the banyan tree, leaned closer, and sniffed it as well. Suddenly, his brows furrowed:

"This taste...it's a bit strange?"

"What's strange about it?"

I can't quite explain it.

Shark White sniffed again.

"It smells a bit like dragons, but not quite like us. It's... a bit stronger, and it even has a bit of a urine smell."

Motu didn't say much, but simply followed the scent forward.

The further you go, the sparser the trees become. In their place lies a rugged, rocky hill, with gray rocks jutting out of the soil like giant bone spurs pointing towards the sky.

"This place..."

Shark White looked around, its scales slightly raised. "Something's not right."

Motu sensed it too.

A restless atmosphere permeated the air, a mixture of sulfur, blood, and some indescribable stench.

And that aura of the rotten mud reached its peak here.

The moment they stepped into the center of the rocky hill—

Something moved behind a huge rock.

Motu's pupils suddenly contracted.

It was a creature.

Slightly smaller than them, about the size of an ordinary jackal, yet they exuded a terrifying aura far exceeding their physical size.

Its body is covered in dark red scales, with glimpses of burning firelight visible between the scales. The head retains the outline of a canine, but the snout protrudes forward, and the jagged teeth inside gleam with a dark yellow luster.

The most terrifying thing is its eyes.

Vertical pupils.

The vertical pupils of dragons.

"This is……"

Shark White's eyes widened. "A kobold?? Looks like this??"

Motu remained silent.

Kobolds are among the most common dragon-like creatures on the continent of Valen. They have a thin bloodline of dragons flowing through their veins, and have worshipped dragons for generations, willingly becoming their vassals and servants.

Legend has it that when a dog-headed man sees a real dragon, he will bow down and pray to become its companion.

But what lies before us—

The aura of dragon bloodline emanated from those dark red scales, so intense it was almost overflowing. It was ten or even a hundred times stronger than that of ordinary kobolds.

Its pupils were cloudy, and it was looking at them with a scrutinizing gaze, as if assessing something.

It quickly came to a conclusion.

The prey, two frost embryos with even lower blood concentration than it.

The kobold's vertical pupils suddenly lit up.

Then it laughed.

It was a twisted, insane laugh, tinged with malice.

"roar--"

It pounced.

The speed is astonishing.

"I—ow!!"

Before Shark White could utter even half a curse, the dark red figure had already rushed in front of him.

Its dragon claws instinctively rose to block, but the dog-headed man slapped it in the chest with one claw!

boom!

The silvery-white scales burst open, and the massive body of the shark flew backward, crashing into a boulder, sending shards of rock flying.

"Shark White!"

Motu's pupils suddenly contracted.

Before he could think any further, his lightning bloodline surged instantly, and dark blue arcs of electricity shot out from the gaps in his scales, weaving into an electric net around him.

Motu opened his mouth, and a bolt of electricity shot out, aiming straight for the kobold's head!

The kobold didn't dodge at all.

An electric arc struck its head, exploding into a burst of blue light on its dark red scales.

As the smoke dissipated, the head was only slightly tilted, leaving a few shallow scorch marks on its scales.

It turned its head and looked at Motu.

The malice in those vertical pupils intensified.

"What kind of monster is this?!"

Shark White struggled to its feet from the rubble, three deep claw marks on its chest exposing bone, blood trickling down its scales.

"Isn't it a Sludge Belcher? How can it be so strong?!"

Motu's pupils were fixed on the kobold, watching the firelight flickering between its scales and feeling the sulfurous and bloody aura emanating from it. His heart sank.

Dragonborn kobolds.

They are not ordinary kobolds, but a variant that was accidentally born due to the spread of bloodline extraction technology during the cooperation between the Dragon's Nest Legion and the Tower of Holy Blood.

The dragon bloodline within them was forcibly activated and purified, resulting in a concentration and combat power far exceeding that of their kind.

But the price is rationality.

The excessively violent blood pulses overwhelmed their consciousness, turning most of them into madmen driven only by instinct.

And this side—

The concentration of dragon blood in its body is probably even higher than that of Shark White.

"Its blood concentration is higher than ours."

Motu spoke slowly, his voice low and deep.

"Not at the first rank, but not far from it."

Shark White was stunned for a moment, then uttered a very offensive curse.

The kobolds gave them no time to catch their breath.

It pounced again, this time targeting Motu.

Motu dodged to the side, while his dragon claw, crackling with eerie blue electricity, swept out and slammed into the kobold's side!

The electric arc exploded!

The kobold was knocked several steps to the side by the claw, but the scales on its waist were only slightly dented, and no blood was seen.

It steadied itself, turned its head, and looked at Motu with a malice tinged with excitement.

It is enjoying the hunt.

"Oh shit--"

With a roar, Shark White charged forward from the side, its silvery-white body exuding the ferocity unique to the Megalodon bloodline, and rammed headfirst into the kobold!

That collision was made with full force.

The kobold was knocked back, but in that instant, its tail swept out like a steel whip, lashing out hard at Shark White's face!

Snapped!

Blood splattered.

Half of Sha Bai's face swelled up instantly, and half of his teeth were loosened by the blows.

The gap is too big.

Motu's pupils contracted to needle size.

Both are of the same type and rank, but the other one withstood the full force of the white shark's charge without a scratch, and could shatter the white shark's scales with a single claw.

This is the difference in dragon blood concentration.

The higher the concentration, the stronger the body.

At the same level, a higher concentration of dragon blood in a creature can easily overwhelm a lower concentration of its counterpart.

Even if the opponent has lost their mind, even if the opponent is only fighting on instinct, their sheer physical strength is enough to make all their skills seem ridiculous.

"Walk!!"

Blue Dragon decisively issued the order.

He opened his mouth, and at that moment, all the lightning-type blood in his body boiled.

A dark blue arc of electricity surged out wildly, intertwining, coiling, and coalescing in front of him.

It's not an attack, it's a trap.

Several bolts of lightning shot out from his mouth, twisting into the shape of a fence in mid-air, and descended upon the dragonborn kobold!

Lightning Cage.

The dragonborn kobolds were briefly blocked.

The electric arcs struck its scales, exploding into bursts of blue light and scorching streaks.

But it was just scorch marks.

It frantically tore at the fence made of lightning, its dark red scales shimmering with an eerie luster in the electric light.

Faced with the kobolds who inherited the high magic resistance of the dragon race, the paralyzing properties of these lightning bolts had almost no effect on them.

It's only a matter of time before they break free.

But what Motu needs is precisely this slight delay.

Shark White scrambled to his feet and rushed to Motu's side.

It crouched down, and Motu flipped over and leaped onto its back.

The movements were crisp and clean, as if they had been rehearsed countless times.

"Walk!"

Shark White turned and fled.

It strained with its four claws, its silvery-white body racing wildly through the rubble. Behind it came the resounding crash of a lightning cage shattering, and the furious roar of the dragonborn kobold.

The roar faded into the distance.

Shark White carried Motu as it darted wildly through the dense forest of the Dark Forest, its silvery-white body like a streak of light, drawing a dazzling trail against the dark green background.

Motu lay on its back, feeling the wind rushing towards him and the tension and relaxation of the muscles in the body beneath him with each exertion.

The feeling was very similar to that of a ship's crew navigating a ship across the azure sea.

But this isn't the sea; it's a dark forest. And the white shark isn't a ship that swims like a fish, but a white dragon subspecies with the blood of a megalodon.

I don't know how long I ran.

Until the roar behind me could no longer be heard, until the chirping of insects and birds resumed, until the sunlight filtered through the tree canopy and cast dappled shadows on the ground.

The shark finally stopped.

It collapsed beneath a giant tree, panting heavily, blood still seeping from the deep, bone-revealing claw wound on its chest. Its silvery-white scales were covered in mud and fallen leaves, making it look as disheveled as if it had just crawled out of a swamp.

Motu slid off its back and sat down against the tree trunk.

The two dragon beasts lay there, panting slightly, neither of them saying a word.

A long time passed.

"Damn it," Shark White said, his voice hoarse, "Damn it!"

It rolled over, lying on its back, looking up at the interlacing canopy above, its three layers of serrated teeth grinding together.

"It's also a saprophytic species," it said, "just like us."

"Um."

"What makes it so strong?!"

Motu paused for a moment: "Bloodline concentration."

"What?"

"Its blood concentration is higher than ours."

Motu gazed at the sky, his pupils deep and unfathomable.

"Much taller."

Sha Bai was stunned for a moment, then cursed with an even more offensive word.

It knows the blood concentration.

In this dark forest, under Lady Olpesia's Dragon Nest Legion, in the gaze of those true dragons overlooking all living beings, bloodline concentration is everything.

The higher the concentration, the stronger the body, the more abundant the magic, and the greater the potential.

The lower the concentration, the closer it is to wild beasts, and the closer it is to those failed products called frost embryos.

They are all frost-covered.

However, there are differences between different types of frost-covered clothing.

Shark White bathed in the river until its bloodline awakened, transforming from an ordinary mud-type monster into its current wyvern form. It always thought it was lucky, one of those extremely rare darlings.

until today.

"Are kobolds this strong these days?" Shark White was both angry and annoyed.

"Dragonborn Kobolds"

Motu corrected, "It's a product of the collaboration between the Dragon Nest Legion and the Holy Blood Tower wizards. The bloodline was forcibly activated and purified, with a concentration far exceeding that of its kind. The price was sanity."

Upon hearing this, Shark White paused, recalling the kobold's murky pupils, its twisted smile, and its frenzied attack, and couldn't help but shudder.

"Then..." Shark White paused, "How much stronger is it than us?"

"If it hadn't lost its mind."

Motu spoke slowly.

"If we keep fighting, at least one of us will die here today."

Shark White took a deep breath.

It could sense that Motu was telling the truth.

That kobold was fighting on instinct.

It lacks tactics, coordination, and the ability to anticipate the opponent's intentions.

It simply pounces, bites, and chases, using the most primitive methods.

Even so, they still couldn't win.

Because its blood concentration is higher than theirs.

Just because its body is stronger than theirs.

"Damn it," Shark White cursed again.

This time, the cursing wasn't as loud; it was more like he was cursing himself.

Motu did not respond.

He simply leaned against the tree trunk, gazing at the dappled shadows overhead, his pupils reflecting the leaping light spots.

In the sea of ​​consciousness, the panel floated silently.

Name: Motu

[Race]: Blue Dragon

[Monster Rank]: Mudblood (87%)

[Bloodline Concentration]: Frost Embryo (21.7%) (60% chance to unlock True Dragon Bloodline Inheritance)

21.7%.

This is his current bloodline concentration.

How tall was that dragonborn kobold? 30%? Or 40%?

he does not know.

"We're still missing three," Shark White suddenly said.

"Um."

"Should we kill them again?"

Motu remained silent for a moment.

He recalled the kobold's murky pupils, its twisted smile, and the stench of sulfur and blood emanating from it.

How many more of those things are hidden deep within the dark forest?

Or rather, how many of these bloodline-fusion creations did the Mother of Dragons' Nest release into her dragon breeding farm?

But having already stepped into this world, there is no way back.

"Kill," he said.

Shark White turned his head and looked at him.

Motu met its gaze, his pupils as deep and unfathomable as a pool:

"Just three more heads left. Once I kill them all, I can advance to the next rank."

"What happens after the first level?"

"After reaching the first tier, the concentration of our bloodline will not change."

Motu paused for a moment, then added, "But with the increase in rank, the body will be strengthened. When we encounter something like this again, at least we won't be in such a sorry state."

Shark White was silent for a moment, then grinned, its three serrated teeth gleaming coldly in the dappled sunlight.

"OK."

The dragon's vengeful nature is vividly displayed on its face.

"Then let's keep killing. Once you and I both advance to the first rank, we'll get our revenge on this bastard."

I'll chew its bones piece by piece, then swallow it whole, bite by bite!