Chapter 272: Domestic Dragons And Darling Disasters

Six months later, Cyrus sat in what used to be the living room of their countryside mansion, staring at what used to be a sofa.

The frame remained—a blackened skeleton of oak and steel springs. The cushions had been reduced to ash. Wisps of smoke still curled from the armrests.

In the center of the destruction sat their son.

Aurelius Drakhal, now roughly the size of a human toddler in his natural dragon form, perched proudly atop the charred remains.

His obsidian scales gleamed in the morning light. Silver markings traced elegant patterns along his small horns and folded wings.

His crimson eyes—identical to Cyrus’s—sparkled with unmistakable satisfaction.

He had recently discovered fire breathing.

Unfortunately, he had also discovered that fire breathing produced very entertaining reactions from his parents.

Kane entered carrying a tray of breakfast pastries and coffee.

He stopped.

"Oh, he learned a new trick!"

Cyrus stared at the burning sofa.

"That’s the third one this month."

"He’s developing his abilities."

"He’s developing an expensive hobby."

Aurel chirped proudly, his tail swishing back and forth.

"Daddy! Fiyah!"

Kane burst out laughing.

Cyrus opened his tablet and started calculating the replacement cost. High-quality sofas that could withstand spirit energy fluctuations didn’t come cheap.

Neither did the fireproofing enchantments he kept ordering from suppliers who were starting to ask questions.

Their son had started speaking in short, toddler-like sentences about two weeks ago.

He called Cyrus "Father" and Kane "Daddy," but had recently learned that Fox Daddy was much easier to manipulate than Dragon Father.

Aurel understood that Cyrus enforced rules while Kane had a weakness for enormous crimson eyes and tiny pleading noises.

Cyrus set down his tablet.

"Aurelius."

The hatchling’s head swiveled toward him.

"New rule. No fire breathing inside the mansion."

Aurel nodded solemnly, his expression perfectly innocent.

Five minutes later, he waddled over to Kane, who was arranging breakfast on the dining table.

"Fox Daddy?"

Kane looked down. "Yes, sweetheart?"

Aurel tilted his head, silver markings catching the light. His crimson eyes widened to their most devastating proportions.

"Lil’ fire?"

"Well, maybe just a tiny—"

"Kane."

Kane froze.

"What?"

"No."

Aurel immediately darted behind Kane’s tails, which had materialized in response to his distress. Nine silver appendages created a formidable barrier between the hatchling and his father.

"Dragon Father mean."

Kane nearly fell over laughing.

Cyrus realized, with dawning horror, that his son had already mastered emotional manipulation.

And worse, he knew exactly which parent to target.

That afternoon, Cyrus attempted to teach Aurel proper dragonfire control in the mansion’s expansive garden.

The countryside estate had reinforced training grounds, magical barriers strong enough to contain explosions, and enough open space to accommodate a growing dragon.

They’d specifically chosen the property for its privacy and isolation—the nearest neighbor was three miles away.

Given Aurel’s recent hobbies, that was probably for the best.

Cyrus demonstrated how to release a small, controlled flame, channeling crimson fire into a narrow stream that ignited a single leaf without disturbing the grass beneath it.

Aurel watched attentively, his tail curled around his feet in perfect imitation of Cyrus’s instructional posture.

"Your turn," Cyrus said.

The dragon nodded seriously. He inhaled, his small chest expanding.

Cyrus prepared to praise him.

Then Aurel sneezed.

A burst of crimson fire erupted from his nostrils, incinerating a decorative garden statue that had cost Cyrus considerable effort to source.

Kane, watching from the terrace with a cup of tea, applauded enthusiastically.

"Amazing! Ten out of ten!"

"Kane, stop encouraging him."

"He hit the statue perfectly!"

"He was aiming at a leaf."

Aurel beamed, clearly interpreting Kane’s reaction as the correct one. He attempted another flame, this time deliberately targeting a second statue.

Cyrus caught his son mid-inhale, gently closing the hatchling’s jaws with one hand.

"Controlled breathing," he reminded Aurel. "Small flames."

Aurel blinked up at him, then nodded again.

Cyrus tried to maintain his stern expression, but Aurel looked so pleased with himself—crimson eyes bright, tiny wings fluttering with excitement—that even he struggled not to smile.

The training session continued for another hour. By the end, Aurel had successfully ignited three leaves, destroyed one hedge, and accidentally set his own tail on fire.

Kane rushed over with a bucket of water while Cyrus smothered the flames with a ward.

Aurel seemed utterly unbothered by the experience. If anything, he appeared fascinated by the discovery that his tail could burn.

The scene ended with Aurel attempting to imitate Cyrus’s dignified posture—spine straight, wings folded perfectly, chin raised—only to lose his balance and fall backward onto his oversized tail.

Kane caught him before he hit the ground, laughing so hard he had tears in his eyes.

That evening, Kane found Cyrus in the study, reviewing the latest household damage report.

"Three sofas, seven decorative statues, one hedge, two curtains, and a kitchen rug," Kane read over his shoulder. "Impressive month."

"Expensive month."

"You handled billion-dollar mergers without breaking a sweat. Now you’re stressed about furniture."

Cyrus closed the report. "Corporate acquisitions don’t actively try to burn the building down."

Kane perched on the edge of the desk. "You know what your problem is?"

"I have a pyromaniac toddler?"

"You’re trying to parent like it’s a military campaign. Children aren’t corporate projects or strategic operations."

"I’ve noticed."

"And you can’t negotiate with a toddler."

"I’ve also noticed."

"Especially not one who can breathe fire."

Cyrus looked toward the garden window. Protective wards shimmered faintly in the twilight, containing Aurel while he chased glowing butterflies across the grass.

His small form darted between flowers, wings fluttering as he pounced unsuccessfully at the enchanted insects Kane had summoned for him.

For centuries, Cyrus never imagined he would have a family, much less a child who could burn through luxury furniture.

Now his biggest concern was whether Aurel would learn to control his flames before destroying the mansion.

Kane leaned against him, silver tails curling around Cyrus’s waist.

"You happy, Dragon Daddy?"

Cyrus watched their son tumble harmlessly through the grass, protected by wards and love in equal measure.

"More than I expected."

The moment of peace lasted approximately fifteen seconds.

Aurel rushed inside, scales gleaming with excitement, wings spread wide.

"Daddy! I fly!"

Cyrus looked up.

"You what?"

Somewhere above them, a second-floor window shattered.