CHAPTER 93: CRUMBS, CONSOLES, AND CATASTROPHE

There were signs.

Obvious signs. Signs so loud and shiny that even a newborn hatchling with half-shut eyes could see them.

A farm paved in stone. Not dirt. Not grass. Stone. Smooth, polished, neatly lined, stretching under his little avatar’s feet like a royal courtyard.

Rows upon rows of crops, not struggling to live like the pitiful weeds in his own farm, but thriving, fat, and gleaming with sparkles that practically sang songs of prosperity.

Barns and coops lined the edges, not the rickety, hollow kind, but massive, upgraded structures with flower boxes in the windows and lanterns glowing like little stars at night.

Animals—fat, glossy, smug animals—strutted around in neat pens, each with custom little houses that looked better than Orien’s farmhouse.

And fruit trees. Not a tree. Not two. A forest. A perfectly spaced, neatly pruned orchard where every branch felt like it was sagging heavy with fruit.

Left. Riches.

Right. Riches.

Front. A river spanned with a golden bridge.

Back. More riches.

Even beneath his character’s tiny feet, the ground sparkled with embedded stone tiles of wealth.

The great baby dragon went very still. His stubby claws gripped his handheld so tight he almost cracked it in half. His little human avatar blinked innocently on screen, completely unbothered by standing on what looked like the treasury of a kingdom.

"..."

This... this was not a farm.

This was an empire.

Orien’s wings stiffened, tail lashing under the blanket. His chest swelled with horror and disbelief until he practically wheezed, golden eyes darting all over the screen.

How?

HOW?!

He slammed his stubby paw against the handheld, shaking it like the device itself would confess its crimes. "What is this place?! Why is your dirt shiny?! Dirt isn’t supposed to shine! Mine doesn’t shine!"

His little avatar stomped the ground. Sparkles rose in answer, taunting him.

Orien screeched internally.

Even the ground was rich!

But maybe it was the kindness of the truly rich, or the terrifying confidence of those who had more fruit trees than stars in the sky, because instead of mocking the dragonling who had nearly choked on his own pride, Liam simply said:

"I can help you get closer to this stage!"

"What?"

Orien froze mid-whine. His stubby paw had been raised in preparation for a dramatic tantrum, but the words hit like a splash of cold water.

"You mean that?" His golden eyes narrowed, suspicious, as though Liam had just offered him poisoned treasure.

"Of course!" the boy chirped, voice bright, unshaken.

The baby dragon squinted harder. "Hmph... what’s the catch?"

"Well, no catch, really," Liam said carefully, tilting his head, "It’s just that while there is an easier method of doing this, which is by handing over some of my items, I don’t think you’d appreciate that, My Lord."

"HUH?!" Orien nearly bolted upward, stubby wings ready to flap indignantly. "Why not?! Are you trying to insult me?!"

The boy waved both hands quickly, alarm flashing across his kind little face. "No, no! I only meant—when I saw your farm, I noticed how you’d already started arranging and developing it carefully. So I thought... you’re probably a hard worker who wants to succeed with your own efforts!"

He smiled innocently as he said it, eyes sparkling with genuine admiration.

Orien’s jaw snapped shut.

Wait.

That... that sounded suspiciously like praise.

The tiny dragon’s chest puffed up automatically, wings twitching with pride he couldn’t quite hide. "...Hmph! Of course, I could succeed on my own!" he declared, voice full of exaggerated dignity.

"Yes! Definitely!" Liam agreed instantly, nodding so fast his hair flopped. "I’d just like to offer my assistance so I can watch you succeed up close."

The smug little dragon preened, tail thumping against the blanket. "...Hm! Fine, since you’re so very insistent! Then you’d better start telling me how you got that golden watering can!" He jabbed a claw at the screen, eyes burning with obsession.

Liam straightened with all the seriousness of a knight taking an oath. "Right away, My Lord!"

And just like that, the two of them bent over their consoles, conspirators united—one fueled by pride, the other by purehearted sincerity—ready to begin their great farming campaign together.

And maybe—just maybe—if everyone in this world showed the same kind of enthusiasm these two did when it came to farming pixels on a screen, then the world might have been a better place.

But then again, one particular aide would strongly disagree.

Because what was enthusiasm when what was at stake was life?

Was there really a difference between being enthusiastically dead versus barely-making-it kind of dead?

Well, maybe one looked better in a casket.

But still—better that than being roasted alive.

And roasted was exactly the kind of outcome Riley envisioned if the house’s owner walked in to find his supposedly hidden dragon nephew missing. Again.

Then, by some cruel twist of fate, said missing charge was discovered elsewhere after being told only one thing: stay hidden.

Oh, how hidden this was.

Riley took a very deep breath. The kind that sounded suspiciously like a dying whistle.

See, when they returned to Kael’s estate and stepped into the dragon lord’s chamber, the first thing they noticed was the silence. The second was the complete absence of a golden blob anywhere in sight.

Riley froze mid-step.

Kael, on the other hand, went very still at the doorway. His golden eyes narrowed into slits, sharp enough to slice stone, every muscle taut like a predator scenting prey.

They had just come back from a terrible, soul-sucking session with the dragon clan members. A session that drained every ounce of patience and sanity. Not to mention the investigations left and right. The last thing they needed was another round of "Where in the realms did the baby dragon vanish to?"

But of course. They seemed cursed in exactly that regard.

And then—something odd.

Riley noticed it first, just as Kael muttered about a foreign sweet scent in the air.

Crumbs.

There were crumbs on the floor.

Which should have been normal for a young kid. Should have been. If not for one important fact—Riley hadn’t bought Orien any such snacks.

That single discovery was the only thing holding Kael back from detonating on the spot.

And so, following the trail of betrayal, they ended up in the drawing room assigned to Riley’s family.

Now Riley was sweating bullets.

Because really—who wouldn’t be nervous at the idea of three humans and one dragon all in the same room? Especially with Kael looming over them like divine judgment personified?

But then—

"???"

Riley’s brain promptly short-circuited.

Just what on Eryndra happened here?!

Two bundles. Two suspiciously soft, ridiculously cozy bundles, tucked under a single blanket like conspirators in crime.

Napping.

Soundly.

Side by side, with crumbs still stuck to the corner of Orien’s mouth and Liam’s little hand resting protectively near the baby dragon’s scales, as though guarding the dangerous little creature from the horrors of the outside world.

They looked blissfully unaware.

Unaware of the looming shadow that fell over them.

Unaware of the danger that came with being discovered by Kael Dravaryn himself.

Riley pressed a hand over his own face. Because of course. Of course, this was how they’d be found.

Not hidden. Not careful.

But napping.

Without a single care for the very real, very terrifying threat called the golden lizard.