I swallowed the last of the Sacred Flame Fruit, its molten sweetness burning down my throat. Flame energy surged through my veins like liquid fire, igniting every vessel in my body. My heart pounded like a war drum.
I clenched my muscles, bracing myself for the pain that would trigger awakening.
One minute passed.
Then five.
Then ten.
Still nothing.
Every eye in the Sacred Grove was fixed on me.
"Two awakening fruits," Chief Ironforge announced loudly, making sure half the grove heard him. His tone dripped with contempt. "Two of our precious resources wasted on a single defective wyrmling."
Laughter broke out across the gathering.
I sat in silence beside my wounded mother, watching the thinly veiled smirks, the mocking glances, the whispers meant to poison our name.
"Still unawakened after consuming enough essence to transform three normal hatchlings," someone muttered from the Forgefire delegation. "What kind of bloodline produces such waste?"
"What else do you expect from an ugly-colored T-Rex?" sneered Scarletface, his words cutting like claws.
I lowered my head, guilt twisting my chest.
"Mother, Father… I'm sorry," I whispered. "Because of me, you have to endure their mockery."
My father's expression stayed composed, but I saw the tension tightening around his amber eyes.
"You have nothing to apologize for," he said quietly, though the political pressure weighed heavily in his tone.
"Doesn't he?"
Chief Magmaroar stepped forward, his diplomatic mask falling to reveal open frustration.
"Scorchclaw, this affects all of us. Those fruits could have gone to families whose children actually deserved them."
"My son deserves them," Emberheart hissed, her voice fierce despite her wounds. "He demonstrated exceptional flame control during the trials—Elder Pyrothane himself acknowledged it!"
"Unusual flame color?" Magmaroar scoffed. "You call that an ability?"
Murmurs rippled through the patriarchs.
The long reign of the Scorchclaw line was showing its first cracks, and the ambitious were ready to pry them open.
"Perhaps," Scarletface said slowly, voice rich with venom, "it's time to reconsider whether the Scorchclaw line is still fit to lead. How can a leader waste sacred fruits on personal greed—just to force awakening on his own son?"
The crowd stirred, hungry for flames to spread.
My father's tail lashed once, slow and dangerous.
"What are you suggesting?" he asked coldly. His voice was calm, but every T-Rex there felt the threat beneath it.
Scarletface hesitated, then, bolstered by the crowd, pressed on.
"I'm suggesting that this wyrmling may not be your blood at all. Perhaps he's a foundling… or a hybrid you're trying to pass off as your heir."
The words fell like poison smoke. Conversations died instantly. Every gaze turned toward us.
"That's enough!" Emberheart roared, forcing herself upright despite the agony of her wounds. "I carried him. I birthed him. I raised him. How dare you, brother, speak such filth?"
"Did you?" Scarletmane cut in coldly. "After birthing Blazefang and Infernotail, there were no signs of another clutch. Then suddenly, a strange egg appears in your nest. And you expect us to believe it was natural?"
The accusation struck like a physical blow.
Creature.
That was what I had become in their eyes—an intruder pretending to belong.
"I am T-Rex!" I shouted, voice cracking under the weight of humiliation. "I am the son of the Scorchclaw family!"
A blazing aura erupted from my father.
Flames burst outward like a miniature sun, heat sweeping across the grove. Mothers shielded their children as the earth trembled.
They had waited years for this chance to disgrace us.
Not a single wyrmling stepped forward in my defense.
"Maybe," a Forgefire voice offered slyly, "a leader who wastes resources so recklessly isn't fit to lead at all."
Tears burned behind my eyes. My failure was no longer mine alone—it was dragging my entire family down with me.
Then the ground itself roared.
"IS THIS HOW FAMILIES OF MY T-REX TRIBE CONDUCT THEMSELVES?"
A crushing aura swept through the grove. Dozens of T-Rex dropped to their knees as Elder Pyrothane's voice shook the earth.
"Mercy, Elder!" Magmaroar gasped, lowering his head. "We only spoke for the sake of the tribe!"
Pyrothane's molten eyes glowed like dying suns.
"Sacred fruits wasted is no small matter," he said, voice echoing like thunder. "But that mother earned them through blood and trial. None here may condemn her. Return to your places."
His roar silenced the grove entirely.
No one dared breathe a word.
From a distance, Pallet watched the scene unfold, her eyes shadowed with conflicted thoughts.
I've advanced my mana heart to the fourth circle using awakening flame essence… mana and this energy aren't so different, her mind whispered bitterly. And still, against adult tyrannosaurs, I'm powerless.
She glanced at me, sympathy flickering beneath the fire in her eyes.
Shameless. They tear at a helpless wyrmling just to feed their political hunger.
Her gaze hardened.
…But why does he remain unawakened?
An unawakened wyrmling capable of one day becoming a weapon of destruction—enough to destroy nations… even worlds?
She trembled, torn between fear and hope.
Maybe… he isn't the monster I thought he was. Maybe I've been wrong.
But I have to know. Is he the same flame dragon who destroyed my planet in my previous life… or not?
[ Hello reader i am rider rex , little dino of our novel.
Add me into your collection ,
Please Leave comment and suggestion for upcoming story events.
Option
1 . Rider gradually develop doubt on pallet mature nature
2 .or remain ignorant fallen in her love .