Chapter 3: The Dragon Egg Investment

The morning after his glorious “saintly” debut, Kael strolled through the village marketplace whistling off-key, his pockets jingling like a miniature orchestra. Every step he took radiated smugness.

“Coins, free food, respect,” he muttered. “Truly, money is the language of the gods.”

“Incorrect,” I said, hovering nearby. “The language of the gods is boredom and bad decisions. Which, come to think of it, you’re fluent in.”

Kael ignored me — as usual. His eyes darted between stalls, scanning not for food or supplies, but for margins. Rotten fruit? Discount cider? Goat wool? If it could be flipped for profit, he wanted it.

That’s when he overheard them.

Two cloaked men stood in a shadowy corner near the butcher’s stall, speaking in hushed, urgent tones.

“…rare, priceless… only fools would pass this up.”

“…dangerous to carry… we must unload it quickly.”

“…dragon egg.”

Kael froze mid-step. His grin widened. Slowly, like a predator sniffing blood, he slinked closer.

“Dragon egg,” he whispered, savoring the words. “Oh-ho-ho… jackpot.”

I groaned. “No. Absolutely not. Kael, listen to me: dragons are not cabbages. You don’t buy one, toss it in a cart, and sell it at a markup.”

But he was already fantasizing. “Dragon omelets. Dragon leather boots. Dragon taxi service. Oh, the margins…”

The cloaked men stiffened when he approached. “What do you want?” one growled.

Kael pressed a hand to his chest, all innocence. “Me? Nothing. Just happened to overhear that you fine gentlemen are in possession of… an opportunity.”

The taller one narrowed his eyes. “You mean a curse.”

“Tomato, tomahto,” Kael said breezily. “Why don’t we sit down and discuss a fair price? Fair for me, I mean.”

I buried my face in my hands. Mortals beg me for strength, wisdom, love. This one? He begs for bulk discounts on doomsday reptiles.

The cloaked men led Kael into a back alley, glancing around nervously. From beneath their ragged cloaks, they produced a large, leathery, mottled egg, pulsing faintly with heat.

It was the size of a barrel, etched with faint glowing veins. Even I, who once watched dragons flatten cities, felt a shiver at the sight.

Kael? He licked his lips like he was looking at a roast chicken.

“Magnificent,” he whispered. “How many omelets could this make? Fifty? Sixty? If I charge per slice…”

“Sir,” one of the men snapped. “Do you know what this is? This egg is cursed! Guarded by death! A burden that—”

“—sounds like a liability,” Kael cut in smoothly. “But I’m feeling generous. I’ll take it off your hands for… five copper.”

The men stared. “Five… copper?”

Kael jingled his pocket. The sound of heavy silver and even a gold or two rang out. His smile didn’t budge. “I’m practically robbing myself here, lads.”

That’s when the glowing blue box appeared in his vision.

[System Quest: Kick a pebble.]

Reward: Negotiation Mastery Lv. MAX]

Kael blinked. “Huh?”

He casually nudged a pebble with his boot.

[Quest Complete. Reward Granted.]

[New Passive: Any negotiation attempt will result in the user always gaining maximum advantage.]

Kael’s grin spread like wildfire. He turned back to the traders, eyes gleaming. “On second thought, gentlemen, perhaps five copper is too generous. Why don’t we make it… one copper.”

The taller man’s mouth worked soundlessly. His partner, sweating, whispered, “For some reason… I feel like that’s… fair?”

“Fair,” the tall one echoed numbly.

And just like that, Kael handed over a single battered coin and cradled a dragon egg worth entire kingdoms in his arms.

I rubbed my temples. “Congratulations, Kael. You’ve officially broken capitalism. And possibly the laws of common sense.”

He kissed the egg like it was a newborn. “Shh, daddy’s little investment. Soon you’ll be making papa so much money.

Kael strutted out of the alley with the egg tucked under his arms like it was a loaf of bread. He beamed at every villager he passed, waiting for them to notice his brilliance.

And then, of course, the System chimed in again.

[Passive Buff: Any item acquired by user activates at 500% normal speed.]

The egg shuddered.

Kael froze. “…Wait.”

Cracks spiderwebbed across the leathery shell. A faint peep echoed from inside.

“No, no, no, not yet!” Kael hissed, clutching it tighter. “I haven’t drawn up the business plan! I haven’t trademarked the brand!”

With a wet crunch, the egg split apart. A puff of smoke and heat burst out, villagers screamed, and Kael fell on his back, clutching the squirming thing that crawled free.

What emerged was… not exactly a majestic wyrm.

It was round. Fluffy. Its scales looked more like soft down feathers. It had stubby wings, oversized eyes, and when it opened its tiny mouth, the noise it made was—

“Bok.”

The crowd blinked.

Kael blinked.

I howled with laughter. “Oh, this is rich. The mighty dragon of legend, scourge of gods, born anew as… poultry.”

The creature wobbled forward, tripped over its own claws, then promptly climbed into Kael’s lap. Its huge eyes sparkled as it let out another proud, squeaky:

“Bok.”

A golden glow appeared above it:

[System Notification: Congratulations! The Dragon Hatchling has imprinted on you. It now considers you its parent.]

Kael’s face went through about eight expressions in five seconds — shock, horror, greed, and finally, unholy joy.

“My child,” he whispered, hugging it tightly. “My beautiful, marketable child.”

The villagers fell to their knees, gasping.

“A dragon!”

“It chose him!”

“Saint Kael commands beasts of legend!”

Kael lifted the hatchling high into the air, grinning ear to ear. “Yes, yes! Witness this miracle! And soon—” he whispered only to himself, “—witness the merchandising.

Kael set the hatchling on the ground—but not too far. It waddled back immediately, bumping into his shin, chirping “Bok!” with uncontainable enthusiasm.

“Ah, yes,” Kael whispered, eyes gleaming. “You’re perfect. Perfectly… profitable.”

He knelt, circling the creature like a general inspecting a new recruit. “We’ll start small. Dragon eggs, dragon rides, dragon-powered plows… oh! Dragon insurance! Every hatchling guaranteed to… uh… not burn your house down. Premium rates apply.”

The villagers stared, some awestruck, some utterly confused. One brave man raised a hand. “Um… that’s… a chicken?”

Kael waved him off with a dramatic flourish. “Do not be fooled! This is the progeny of legends! Witness the scales, the… uh… fluff! The aura of imminent… ferocity!”

The hatchling tripped over its own stubby legs and faceplanted. It let out a triumphant, high-pitched: “Bok!”

Kael leaned close, whispering, “Fear not, little one. In time, you’ll be terrifying. But first… merchandising.” He pulled out a small pouch and scribbled a quick list:

• Dragon Hat Sale

• Baby Dragon Pet Rental

• Dragon Egg Lottery (limited supply!)

• Miracle Hatchling Water (optional add-on)

I laughed so hard I nearly dropped my divine goblet. “Eryndor, rejoice! Your legendary dragon terror is now… a walking, squeaky cash machine. Mortals will worship him. Merchants will envy him. And Kael… well, he’s officially turned godhood into a business plan.”

Kael looked up, grinning like a wolf who’d just found a flock of sheep with wallets. “Yes. Soon, every village, every town, every kingdom will know the glory of… Kael’s Dragon Emporium!”

The hatchling flopped over, landing on its back, wings flailing. “Bok!”

Kael picked it up, hugging it like a furry, feathered stock certificate. “Exactly. Enthusiasm! You understand, my child. We are… destined for profit.”

I leaned back, shaking my head. “Destined for profit, indeed. Eryndor’s mightiest dragon, chosen by fate… and all it does is squeak. Congratulations, Kael. You’ve made history—absurd, hilarious, and mercilessly greedy history.”

⸻

End of Chapter 3.

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