The egg kept shaking in his hand, the cracks spreading like tiny lightning bolts.
Creak… creak… creak.
"Papa!"
That small voice echoed again, soft but somehow… demanding.
Like the creature inside was trying to give him orders.
Dio stared at the egg, his brain doing its best to keep up.
It failed, obviously.
"How can an egg talk…?" he muttered.
"You don't even have a mouth yet…"
The creaking grew louder.
Then, with a final sharp crack, the shell split open.
Yellow goo spilled out, warm and sticky, and the whole thing broke in a way that looked almost convenient.
Dio blinked at it.
"…It really broke like a ready-made meal."
"Papa."
The voice came again, clearer now, almost like it was telling him, Go on, eat me.
Dio's face twisted.
This was far beyond his daily nonsense level.
"Stop that," he snapped.
"Don't act like you want to be eaten. That's creepy."
He leaned a little closer, squinting into the goo to see if something was inside.
He saw nothing but warm yoke and broken shell.
"Alright, that does it," he said, lifting the egg in his hand.
"Come out now, or I will beat the shit out of you."
The dungeon fell completely silent, waiting to see which one was crazier, the egg or Dio.
Dio's voice echoed through the dark, sharp enough to scare a grown man, yet the tiny "papa" sound didn't come again.
Nothing.
Not even a squeak.
He frowned, rubbing his chin like he had three working brain cells instead of one.
"Huh…? Why stop now?"
A small thought slowly crawled its way into his mind, bumping into walls as it tried to form.
"…This egg wasn't talking to me."
He looked at the cracked shell in his hand, then at the yoke dripping down his fingers.
"No way you were making those sounds," he muttered.
He replayed everything in his head, the creaks, the calls, the weird timing.
A little spark lit in his eyes as the truth finally hit him.
"Maybe… it was another one."
He looked around the dark room again, more carefully this time.
"The creaking I heard earlier… that must've been it too. The sound I followed."
And then, with dramatic seriousness that he did not deserve, he imagined the scene.
"Maybe it hatched… saw me… thought I'm its father…"
He paused.
"…and then it saw me eating its siblings, so it ran away."
His expression shifted completely, the frown melting into a bright, stupid grin that could blind a saint.
"Ahhh… makes sense," he said proudly, like he solved a world mystery.
He tossed the half-broken egg aside without hesitation.
Then he spread his arms wide and shouted into the darkness,
"My child! Come to papa!"
He puffed out his chest and smiled like a heroic father in some dramatic movie.
"I won't eat you!"
Inside his head, however, a far less wholesome voice whispered:
'If I bring this little creature with me, it'll grow… and when I eat it later, I'll get way more protein than an egg could ever give.'
His grin sharpened at the edges.
"Way more protein…" he murmured under his breath.
The dungeon air grew colder.
Something in the shadows twitched.
And somewhere in that darkness, whatever called him papa earlier was deciding if meeting Dio was the biggest blessing of its life…
or the biggest mistake.
Even with his arms wide open like a discount saint, nothing came.
No papa sound.
No tiny steps.
Not even a polite "sorry, wrong father."
Just air. Cold, empty, judging air.
Dio's smile twitched. His arms slowly sagged.
A small frown crept onto his face.
"This won't do," he muttered. "How dare my child ignore me…"
He shut his eyes tightly, like a kid pretending to sleep so someone would carry him.
Then he spoke in the softest, fakest gentle voice he could manage.
"Papa closed his eyes… now come give papa a hug?"
He stayed still.
Not a muscle moved.
He refused to open his eyes, acting like that would ruin the magic spell.
A few seconds passed.
Then a small sound finally answered him.
"…papa?"
His lips curled instantly.
"Yes. Come to papa," he said, voice smooth, warm, and overflowing with love he absolutely did not feel.
"Papa!"
This time the voice was loud, full of pure joy.
A child's excitement mixed with a monster's echo.
Dio didn't even get to smile.
Boom!
Something fast and unbelievably strong slammed straight into him.
The impact sent him flying like a kicked pebble.
His arms flailed.
His brain rattled.
And the dungeon ceiling spun above him like a low-budget movie effect.
Whatever had called him papa… definitely wasn't frail.
Or harmless.
Or huggable.
Dio hit the ground so hard his bones complained in languages he didn't even know.
"Damn… that hurts," he grumbled, trying to push himself up.
He barely lifted his shoulders when something on his chest tightened its grip.
"Oi—what…?"
He looked down, confused.
The creature wasn't big. It wasn't heavy either.
But the force it used earlier?
That was the terrifying part.
A baby shouldn't be able to launch someone like a catapult.
His head throbbed.
His eyes kept blurring out of pure protest.
It took him a long moment before his brain decided to start working again.
Finally, he opened his eyes fully and croaked,
"What the fuck are yo—…yo… what the fuck?"
Because now he could finally see what was clinging to him.
It wasn't just sticking to his chest.
It was… licking him.
Like a puppy greeting its long-lost parent.
Except this was no puppy.
A tiny obsidian-black creature curled in his arms, sleek like a newborn lizard but with a strange elegance.
Its skin looked like polished stone, smooth and shiny.
Small bat-like wings lay folded against its back, trembling with excitement.
A thin tail flicked happily behind it.
And on its head… one sharp little horn stood proudly.
It looked fierce.
It looked cute.
It looked like trouble.
And most importantly it resembled a dragon hatchling.
It rested on him like a pocket-sized shadow beast, completely at home, completely sure he was its father.
Dio stared at it, frozen, his mind screaming and whispering at the same time.
His "child"…
was a baby dragon.
A very dangerous one.
And it loved him.