"Hey, don't clamp down so tight! Open up and let Big Sis have a look."
The Drow attempting to pry open the cloaca by hand was also taken aback, apparently not expecting the typically licentious Red Dragon to actually be shy!?
Even though the subject was merely a Red Hatchling, this discovery made the Elves, who were just there to watch the spectacle, even more thrilled. They couldn't help but get down and join the fray.
"I'll hold down the lower limbs."
"Be gentle! Don't break the jaw scales! They'll lose value."
Although the anatomical structure of a dragon's body is also called a cloaca, it's vastly different from the simple, orifice-like structure of birds or even lizards. Instead, it is composed of several Dragon Scale-like pieces. If one had to describe it, its form more closely resembled the mouthparts of a crab. These components ranged from the densely spiked larger jaw scales and the slightly smoother smaller jaw scales to the sets of jaw legs that aided in reproduction, excretion, and even cleaning the cloaca. Finally, there were the somewhat softer upper and lower glandular openings, respectively responsible for housing the reproductive organs and managing excretion.
Thus, when the Dragon resisted with its full might, it indeed took some effort to achieve their goal without violently damaging the cloacal tissue.
But clearly, this was no challenge for the experienced Drow Elves.
As for where such practical experience came from?
From the Metal Dragons, obviously!
Watching as the Drow gradually advanced, threatening his last defenses, David knew it was time for him to fight with all his might. His original plan was to wait for the Drow to unlock the chains on his mouth so he could eat. Then, he intended to use his Authority of Rage to buy time and store energy for his breath. However, it now seemed he had to find another way.
Numerous thoughts flickered through his mind, only to be rejected one by one, as he couldn't get around a key issue: His mouth was bound; he couldn't breathe fire to scorch the ship!
Damn it! If only I could kill this shameless bunch of Drow with a fart! A thought suddenly flared in the enraged David.
Once conceived, the idea somehow connected to a memory from his previous life. He recalled visiting some dimwit's online forum where he'd seen a discussion about whether a lighter could ignite a fart. His mind then conjured the GIF of a ballerina performing a handstand and breathing fire...
Ah, if only I could breathe fire from my anus right now...
Wait a minute!
He suddenly remembered his rather unreliable ability: The Authority of Pride!
Maybe, just maybe, I can breathe in reverse?
David's pupils dilated.
No! I, David, can *definitely* breathe in reverse!
After all, the mouth and the anus are connected. Air coming out of the mouth is a burp; from the anus, it's a fart. If a Dragon can breathe fire from its mouth, why can't its anus do the same?
That's right! Theoretically, it's perfectly feasible!
I could do it when I was human in my past life; there's no reason I can't do it now that I'm a dragon!
Seeing that his last line of defense, the jaw legs, was about to be pried open, David went all in. He took a deep breath, and in an instant, he swelled up like a pufferfish.
"Huh, why is his belly bulging? He isn't trying to breathe fire, is he?" a Drow cautioned.
"How can he breathe fire with his mouth bound? Unless he wants to backfire and explode like a Dwarven musket."
"Oh, don't be greedy. Salin said he did this once on the way back, and it just resulted in a fart. He probably thinks he can fart us to death now."
"Hahahaha!" The group of Drow burst into laughter at the lame joke.
But before they could finish laughing, the cloaca they had struggled for so long to pry open suddenly opened on its own.
SPLAT!
The coal-black meconium of the Red Dragon Hatchling sprayed out, slathering the mouth and face of the foremost Drow, the one who had been laughing the loudest.
The nearby Drow were stunned for a moment, then their expressions turned to schadenfreude.
Little did they know, the final obstruction in a certain passage had just been cleared.
[Authority—Pride]
"&@%#!!!" The afflicted Drow, finally overcome with shame and fury, spewed curses in her native dialect. She clenched her fist and aimed a punch at David's softest part—his belly.
But just as her fist was about to strike the Red Hatchling, a torrent of fierce flames engulfed her vision.
She instantly became a real-life cosplay of Ghost Rider, head ablaze.
Then, with a thunderous BOOM!
The lower hold of the Drow Elf ship exploded.
「 」
Atop a solitary peak by the coast, the Red Dragon Pafila gazed somewhat absently towards the sea. She occasionally glanced at her daughter, who was diligently gnawing on rocks beside her, sighed, and felt her headache intensify.
It wasn't that she hadn't brought food for her offspring. Apart from the two Drow Elves she had smashed on a whim when she encountered them, she had brought back four relatively intact Drow for her soon-to-hatch child. However, of the three Dragon Eggs she had brought back, only one had successfully hatched; the others were duds.
If any other freshly hatched Hatchling had faced this situation, it would have probably laughed its jaw off before pouncing to devour all four Drow and the two dead eggs, even if the sheer volume might have caused it to burst on the spot.
Yet, this daughter of hers wouldn't even touch them. She declared that even if she were to starve to death, jump from this precipice, or die in the wilderness, she would never consume the flesh of intelligent beings or the corpses of her own kind.
She was more Metal Dragon than the Metal Dragons themselves.
But what could be done? This was all her own doing.
During her last crucial period of sleep, she had been repeatedly disturbed. When Pafila discovered the cause—a group of creatures had stolen all the dragon manure from her territory—she flew into an extreme rage that lasted for seventeen whole days. When she finally calmed down, she found a Silver Dragon attempting to stop her from further venting her fury! Being in heat at the time, she had thrashed that self-proclaimed righteous Silver Dragon until it was scrambling for its teeth, and then she had vented her frustrations on the spot.
And thus, this clutch of Dragon Eggs came to be...
It was all a bit much to think about in hindsight.
It wasn't that she lacked methods to dispose of them "legally and reasonably," but she was, after all, a devout follower of Her Majesty Tiamat. If Her Majesty Tiamat were to witness her overtly harming "Her children," obtaining favors from the Mother of Evil Dragons in the future would become significantly more difficult.
Having resigned herself to her fate, Pafila was returning to her nest with prey when she discovered that the clutch of Dragon Eggs had been stolen!
Could such a wonderful thing actually happen?!
In her extreme excitement, before Pafila could even celebrate her newfound freedom, she killed the entire group of Drow on the spot...
Actually, it seemed she hadn't killed them all. Three were still hidden in her droppings, and one of them was her own prematurely hatched cub...
She considered it, but couldn't bring herself to step on them; she thought again, but couldn't bring herself to use her claws either. So, she carried the remaining three Dragon Eggs in her mouth and found a lonely peak to rest.
After all, this seemed to be the very first clutch of Dragon Eggs in her draconic life.
Hatching a clutch of Dragon Eggs for fun didn't seem too bad.
But she had never expected...
That she, a Red Dragon, would give birth to a pure-blooded Metal Dragon.
A Silver Dragon...
"Oh! Tiamat above!"
Fearing divine retribution, Pafila instantly felt the urge to stuff her daughter back into her cloaca.
Her subconscious prayer to the Dragon Mother, however, actually drew the attention of Tiamat, the Scales of Evil. Tiamat bestowed a blessing upon the bewildered Pafila and instructed her to raise the child well. In Tiamat's own words:
"What could be more amusing than personally corrupting a Metal Dragon, watching her, so proud of her righteousness and kindness, descend into hell day by day? I truly wish to see the expression on the King of the North Wind's face when he beholds my creation one day! I imagine you, too, can appreciate such amusement, can't you, my dear Pafila?"
Honestly, when the Mother of Evil Dragons herself was tempting her, Pafila had found the idea quite intriguing. But the problem was...
In her mind, wasn't raising Hatchlings simply a matter of catching some food for them after they hatched, just enough to keep them from starving?
Why did a perfectly normal Hatchling turn out to be a Silver Dragon?
A Silver Dragon was one thing, but why did it also have to have such a talkative mouth?
Why did it spout so much nonsense all day long?
For instance, right now, the innocent Silver Hatchling tilted her head up at her Dragon Mother and said, "Mother, please don't be swayed by the Scales of Evil anymore. That path will inevitably lead to hell. Why don't we convert and worship the kind and great King of the North Wind, Ba—"
"Shut up! Tania, if you utter one more useless word, Mother will eat you!" the young mother glared, her eyes blazing.
"Hmph..." Intimidated by her mother's authority, the Silver Hatchling stubbornly swallowed the rest of the great being's name, looking utterly aggrieved.
Her head throbbing, Pafila reverted to her initial decision. "Wait here. I'll go retrieve your foolish brother. From now on, he will take care of you."
"What? I have a brother?" Tania looked startled at first, then feigned excitement, but a trace of undeniable fear flickered deep within her eyes.
Yes, an idiot who would even dare to crawl into a dung pit.
After I dismantle that shabby ship of those dark-skinned Goblins, I'll definitely have to dunk him in the sea for a thorough rinsing.
Pafila idly flicked her Dragon Tail. But just as she spread her wings, preparing to leap from the mountaintop, the Drow sea ship—whose demise this Red Dragon had already foreordained—suddenly erupted into a towering pillar of fire...
It was burning.
Then, under the utterly astonished gazes of Dragon Mother Pafila and Dragon Sister Tania, a red figure, its rear end spewing fire, burst from the sea beside the ship.
He was tied to a withered stake. Powered by the strong recoil, he skipped across the water's surface several times. Then, like a shooting star, he rocketed across the adjacent beach, sparks flying as he plunged into the dense eastern forest and vanished in an instant.
And Pafila, the Dragon Mother, with her extraordinary vision that surpassed even that of hawks and falcons, naturally caught the wildly triumphant and somewhat smug expression on the Red Hatchling's face following his successful revenge.
So similar!
Far too similar!
He's exactly like I was when I was young.
But as her gaze fell upon the continuously flaming posterior, her mind, already metaphorically filled with lava, began to short-circuit. She lost her footing and tumbled directly off the mountaintop.
"Cool~" the Silver Hatchling, witnessing such a spectacle for the first time, exclaimed, her eyes and mouth wide open in a melodious note of awe.
"Is that your other child? My brother?"
"No, you don't have a brother. What you just saw was an illusion, understand?" The Dragon Mother, having somehow flown back to the summit, spread her wings to block the Silver Hatchling's curious and admiring gaze, her tone one of stern righteousness.
She had given birth to a Silver Dragon, and now, a Red Dragon cub that breathed fire from its rear!
Heavens! Had she been 'blessed' by the King of the North Wind?
Her Majesty Tiamat would probably wake up cackling from her eternal slumber in the endless planes if she heard about this!
This was an absolute disgrace to dragonkind!
She, Pafila the Crimson Calamity, would never admit to siring such bizarre Dragon Hatchlings!
Never!!!