The dungeon beneath the duke's estate had no name.
It did not need one.
Names were for places meant to be remembered.
This place existed only to erase.
Water dripped from the stone ceiling in slow, hollow taps. Each drop struck the floor like a countdown, marking the moments Lily had left. Rusted chains bit into her wrists. Cold gnawed at her bones. The thin cloth on her body was no warmer than wet paper.
They said she poisoned the duke's child.
They did not ask how.
They did not ask why.
They did not ask if.
A slave's word weighed less than dust.
She had only carried tea.
That was all.
Yet she was dragged through halls she had cleaned since childhood, thrown down stone steps, and locked beneath the earth. No trial. No mercy. No chance.
Hunger came first.
Then thirst.
Then the cold.
The cold was patient.
It slid into her fingers, her toes, her lungs. It whispered that rest would be gentle. That sleep would be kind. Above her, warmth existed—laughter, candles, life. Below, Lily faded.
She pressed her forehead to her knees, breath shallow.
One who survives still has a chance.
She had repeated those words since childhood.
When she was beaten for a cracked plate.
When she was locked outside in winter.
When she learned that kindness invited cruelty.
Survive.
If you survive, you can change things.
Her vision dimmed.
If I live again…
I will not be gentle with a world like this.
Her heart stopped in silence.
---
Darkness did not end.
It opened.
Lily felt herself falling—not through space, but through meaning. Pain peeled away. Memory unraveled. Something vast and ancient observed her, weighing her existence.
Then—
Cold again.
She gasped.
Air tore into her lungs. Snow burned against her skin. She lay on something hard and wet. White flakes drifted from a gray sky.
She opened her eyes.
A wide street stretched before her, paved in pale stone. Wooden houses lined the road, their roofs dusted with frost. Lantern light glowed warmly behind windows. Footprints crossed the snow.
And a few steps away—
She saw herself.
Another girl lay half-buried in snow. The same black hair. The same pale skin. The same fragile body.
The same face.
Lily froze.
The girl's chest barely rose. Her lips were blue. Snow clung to her lashes.
Memory surged into Lily's mind—memories that were not from her life as a slave.
A cavern blazing with crimson light.
Massive wings folding in panic.
A roar cut short.
Dragons.
Her parents.
Not monsters. Not tyrants. Dragons who had chosen peace in this mixed world where humans and beastfolk lived side by side.
Hunters had come.
Blades carved through scale and flame.
When the lair fell silent, they gathered what remained.
Eggs.
Children.
Trash.
This body remembered being dragged from warmth. Remembered cold hands tossing her onto a wagon. Remembered being dumped onto this street like broken furniture.
Nearby lay two more small forms.
A boy with ash-blond hair.
Another with messy black curls tipped faintly red.
Liam.
Kyle.
Snow clung to their clothes. Their breaths were faint.
A translucent screen shimmered before Lily's eyes.
> [Reincarnation Complete.]
[Subject: Lily]
[Bloodline: Draconic – Duke Tier]
[Horn Tier: Silver]
[Status: F-Rank – Powerless]
[Special Trait: Tenfold Bonus (x10 Growth Effect)]
[Evolution Paths Detected.]
Path One: Mortal Progression – Active
Path Two: Draconic Bloodline Evolution – Locked
Synchronization Rule: Bloodline evolves upon reaching each Level Cap.
Her gaze dropped to her head.
Two small horns curved gently from her hairline.
Silver.
Not black.
Not common.
Noble.
In this world, horn color defined destiny:
Black meant ordinary draconic blood.
Silver meant duke lineage.
Golden meant royal.
Yet here she lay—
A silver-horned dragon child, abandoned in snow.
Lily pushed herself up. Her body was weak, light, shivering. Snow soaked through thin cloth. Her chest burned.
She crawled to the other Lily and pressed trembling fingers to the child's neck.
A pulse.
Faint.
Alive.
Relief broke through her chest.
She dragged herself to the boys.
Liam breathed shallowly.
Kyle's fingers twitched.
All three lived.
Barely.
Footsteps crunched in the distance. Voices murmured—merchants, beastfolk wrapped in fur cloaks.
No one stopped.
Three abandoned children did not matter.
Lily stood, swaying, and positioned herself between them and the wind. She pulled the others closer, sharing warmth with a body that was her own.
Snow fell in silence.
Another message appeared.
> [Welcome to the World of Ranks.]
[Power defines worth.]
[The weak are discarded.]
[Survive.]
Lily laughed softly.
It sounded broken.
"I know," she whispered.
Her silver horns caught the pale light. Her black hair, dull and tangled, hid the faint promise of silver within.
She looked at Liam.
At Kyle.
At the fragile body that was hers.
"I won't survive alone."
Somewhere in this peaceful world, dungeons would open. Ranks would rise. Monsters would descend. Heaven would judge worth.
Her draconic blood slept within her—
Void-Flame sealed behind a locked evolution.
Liam's Frostwind lay dormant.
Kyle's Inferno Thunder slumbered.
Three disasters waiting to be born.
Lily lifted her gaze to the falling sky.
In her first life, she had died in chains.
In her second, she awoke in snow.
Her lips curved into a faint, dangerous smile.
"Then I'll survive again," she whispered.
"And this time… I'll make even heaven regret throwing us away."