Karl stood before the glittering mountains of gold inside the Dragon Cave, the warm glow of enchanted fire reflecting off the treasure and casting shifting light across his face. His thoughts raced restlessly.
Maybe I should try those three vampires… their children are gargoyles, and they're said to use blood magic… maybe I really should—
He immediately shook his head.
No. No, that's insane. They're dark creatures. I can't afford to get myself tangled in their rituals…
He paced back and forth, rubbing his temples.
What about the temples? Maybe the elves? They're knowledgeable, their mages might know something about dormant dragon eggs? Or ancient magical catalysts?
He was talking to himself at this point, muttering half-formed ideas. He was desperate—so desperate that even unreasonable plans were starting to look appealing.
But just as he prepared to drown himself in another spiral of speculation—
A soft, almost comical biu~! sound echoed behind him.
Karl's eyes widened.
He spun around just in time to see faint ripples distorting the air, like water disturbed by a thrown pebble. Where Artex had been lying a moment ago—her massive dragon body sprawled atop mountains of gold—light shimmered, and then—
She vanished.
Karl didn't panic. He knew this pattern well.
He slowly lowered his eyes… and waited.
Sure enough, the enormous dragon reappeared—but in mid-transformation. Her colossal form blurred, then shrank. Scales softened into skin, claws shifted into delicate fingers, wings dissolved into shimmering fragments of light.
What remained was a woman.
But calling Artex's humanoid form "a woman" was an oversimplification.
She was a vision from some wild, intoxicating fantasy: tall, voluptuous, her curves wrapped by almost nothing except a network of golden metal chains draped loosely over her body. The chains were decorative at best—completely impractical, doing more to reveal than conceal. Her skin had a faint green tint, reminiscent of draconic bloodlines. Her ears were pointed like an elf's, two small horns curled from her forehead, and instead of human nails, she had slightly clawed fingers and toes—scaled, sharp, and deadly.
She was beautiful and dangerous in equal measure.
And she moved with a predatory grace as she approached him.
"Karl…" Artex purred, her voice rich and velvety. She wrapped herself around his arm, pressing soft curves against him while her eyes drifted to the egg resting on the velvet cushion. "Of course I know it's a dragon egg. I don't know where you found it, but I can tell you one thing—"
Her lips curled in disdain.
"—it's still just a useless stone."
Karl's expression tightened, but she continued mercilessly.
"And even if—if—it eventually hatches, what crawls out won't be a true dragon like me. It'll be a wyrm." She wrinkled her nose as if insulted. "A lesser being. Barely intelligent, if at all."
Artex looked annoyed, even offended, as if Karl had brought her a lump of coal and asked her to treat it like a diamond.
In truth, she had her own reasons for disinterest.
In her belly grew her own unformed dragon egg—still formless, still developing—and to her, that mattered more than any outsider's egg.
Karl could tell she didn't understand why he cared so much.
He shook his head, disappointment flickering across his face. But his disappointment wasn't directed at Artex—it was directed at the stubborn egg that refused to awaken.
Why?
Why did nothing work?
Daenerys' dragon eggs hatched with the resurgence of magic.
Melisandre spoke of prophecy, of stone dragons awakening with the tide of magic.
Dragons in the world of Ice and Fire were tied intrinsically to magic.
But Karl had done everything right.
He had found real dragon blood—Artex herself.
He had supplied magic—his own, strange and potent.
He had soaked the egg in spells, potions, even fire.
He had spent years nourishing it, watching it, studying it.
And yet…
Nothing.
The egg remained cold. Heavy. Silent.
Beautiful like a master-crafted artifact… but empty.
Karl stared at it for a long time, a weight settling in his chest.
"Ah… if only I could take you out of this world," he whispered under his breath.
Not just the egg—Artex too.
He turned his head, looking at Artex who clung to his arm with playful affection, her tail curling around his leg like a mischievous serpent.
If he could take her to Westeros—if he walked openly with a dragon girl at his side, with a dragon egg in hand—then no lord, no king, no queen could question his legitimacy.
Dragons were power.
Dragons were authority.
Dragons were the right to rule.
With even one dragon, Karl could declare himself the rightful heir of destiny, and no one would be able to stop him.
But reality was cruel.
Artex was not a being of the real world—she was an NPC, bound by the rules of a game-turned-reality. She had thoughts, emotions, and a personality, but she was still a creation of system logic. She couldn't leave the boundaries of her world. She couldn't disobey underlying rules he could not see. She could not be taken across the barrier between worlds.
Just like a host trapped in Westworld—aware, alive, but still chained by the invisible programming at her core.
Karl wasn't powerful enough to rewrite a world's rules.
Not yet.
But Artex didn't understand his melancholy. She pressed closer, her voice gentle, coaxing.
"Karl, don't worry about it so much," she murmured. "Why obsess over a dragon hatching from a rock? It doesn't make sense." She smiled warmly. "You should be looking forward to your child. I can feel it growing every day. We both miss you…"
Karl felt a complicated swell of emotion.
To her, she really was carrying his child. In her world, that was the truth. And maybe, within this world's rules, it really was true.
---
Time passed.
The chirping of insects faded, replaced gradually by the early morning songs of birds ushering in the dawn.
In a quiet corner of the real-world forest, the air flickered. A ripple spread outward, and with a flash—
Karl stumbled out of thin air.
He nearly collapsed, catching himself against a tree.
"Damn…" he gasped. "It's draining. It's really draining."
A full day's worth of travel in the game world meant a full day of real effort here. There were no shortcuts. No cutscenes. No convenient "skip travel" buttons.
In the old world, most players would fast-forward these events with a couple of mouse clicks. At most, they'd spend time wiping away some tissue-based shame while watching the NSFW dragon-girl cutscenes.
But here?
Karl had to actually do everything physically.
He had walked for miles. Battled monsters. Climbed cliffs. Evaded traps. Visited vampire castles, temples, cursed towers, ancient ruins. He'd spoken to witches, elves, undead sentinels—anyone who might know a secret of dragon eggs.
All for nothing.
No one had answers.
And now?
He had gained nothing.
Lost nothing.
But was absolutely exhausted.
"Losing the wife and the army," Karl muttered bitterly. "Truly losing everything…"
He rubbed his sore legs and forced himself to stand straight. Even his mana felt drained.
But he had one last hope.
"Artex," he called out, stepping back into the Dragon Cave. He raised the egg in his hands. "Are you sure there's nothing else? No spell? No ritual? No knowledge among dragonkind that could—"
But Artex, now in her dragon form again, merely blinked sleepily.
She let out a groggy, unintelligible rumble—
—and then began snoring.
She had eaten well, mated well, was full, satisfied, and tired. That was all that mattered to her.
Karl stared blankly.
"…Really?"
He looked at the egg.
Then looked at Artex.
Then looked back at the egg.
Finally, he sighed.
"Fine. If you won't help, then I'm taking something in return."
He bent down, scooped a small handful of gold coins from the treasure mound, stuffed them into his pocket, turned around, and stormed toward the exit.
"Just consider it payment," he grumbled. "You outrageous lizard…"
Behind him, Artex continued snoring peacefully, oblivious.
Karl trudged out of the cave—
Frustrated.
Defeated.
And carrying an egg that stubbornly refused to wake.
---
Advance Chapters avilable on patreon (Obito_uchiha)