There existed a monster known as a Wyvern. In the Human Realm, they were feared as top-tier threats, but in the Demon Realm, teeming with powerful entities, they didn't even rank as mid-tier. If anything, they were viewed as weak.
While their appearance resembled that of a winged dragon, their frames were smaller, and their intelligence was low. They weren't classified among the Dragon Species—the archetypal powerhouses—but were instead categorized as Winged Beasts.
Despite their lackluster reputation, they were popular prey. Their meat was high quality, and because they lived in large flocks, they were easy to find in abundance. In the Demon Realm, a Wyvern was a "prey" creature—a weakling. This was especially true in the ancient Demon Realm, where the law of the jungle reigned supreme.
The journey of "her"—a creature born as a Wyvern—was a turbulent one.
Whether by chance or fate, her flock was on the verge of annihilation by the time she became self-aware. This was a common tale in the Demon Realm. A Red Dragon, a predator far superior to any Wyvern, had stumbled upon them. Without time to resist, the Wyverns were slaughtered. Before her lay the mangled corpses of her kin and a predator with its jaws wide open.
Nature's providence dictated that the strong eat the weak, but she refused to accept it.
With her first-ever roar, she bared her fangs at a dragon many times her size. She wouldn't accept such an end. She wouldn't let it finish here. She threw herself at the overwhelming foe with everything she had.
She sustained countless wounds. She was battered to the point where death seemed certain. And yet, she stood triumphant atop the corpse of the dragon she had just slain, roaring to the heavens with every ounce of her remaining strength.
She couldn't stand being a weakling. She couldn't let the small flame in her heart remain a mere smolder. If the world deemed her a weakling—a creature unable to reach the sky—then she would one day use this burning passion to set the heavens ablaze.
That was the oldest memory of Flarebel Needsveld, the beginning of a lifelong challenger.
With a burning ambition in her chest, she continued to hunt those stronger than her. Living in a world of survival of the fittest where defeat meant death, she always turned her fangs toward superior foes. She suffered wounds so severe they left permanent scars. She crossed through so many life-or-death situations that counting them was futile. Time and again, she hovered on the brink of death, yet her challenge never wavered.
She didn't fear death; she feared the extinguishing of the fire that raged within her.
Whether she was stained by the blood of her enemies or her inner flame had simply manifested, her body eventually turned a scorching red. By then, her status had shifted from "weakling" to "powerhouse."
Still, she did not stop. She pushed forward until she reached the pinnacle of the Dragon Species: the Dragon King, Magnawell.
At that time, Magnawell had just gained independence from Kuromueina as one of the Six Kings. He was searching for potential subordinates and, upon noticing her, offered her a position.
She had one condition: a battle with him. She fought him exactly one hundred times, losing every single bout. Having finally found a king worthy of her service, she accepted. It was then that Magnawell bestowed upon her the name "Needsveld."
Needsveld was the first Wyvern in history to evolve into a Special Individual. When Magnawell learned of her history, he was struck with both shock and deep respect for the path she had carved.
He eventually decreed that any veteran Wyvern—though they were Winged Beasts—who managed to obtain red scales like hers would be recognized as Dragon Species. He granted this special breed the name "Nidhogg," derived from her own.
As an aside, a certain dragon who had joined Magnawell slightly before her was feeling rather overconfident. This black dragon, who would later be known as the Head of the Dragon King's Subordinates, told her: "If you wish to challenge Magnawell-sama, you must defeat me first." He was subsequently beaten so badly it left him traumatized. From then on, he developed an extreme aversion to mock battles with Needsveld.
Needsveld had a straightforward nature. Once she pledged her loyalty, she served Magnawell with absolute sincerity. Since his forces were still small, her job was to act as an envoy. She would travel to dragons Magnawell had identified as executive candidates and deliver his recruitment offers.
Currently, she stood on a sheer cliff, her hands—which were integrated with her wings—crossed over her chest. She stared down at the ocean below. After a moment, the sea began to glow faintly, and a resonant voice echoed from the depths.
"How arrogant. You expect me to serve? I care nothing for your Dragon King. I am the ruler of the Demon Realm's oceans. I will serve no one. Furthermore, a coward who sends a subordinate instead of showing their face directly is laughable. If this Magnawell wants to negotiate, tell him to come here himself."
Needsveld remained silent. The sea dragon spoke with the confidence of one who believed themselves invincible in their own domain. It was a provocation born of absolute security.
"To begin—wait, what? How is there fire here...?"
The dragon's words were cut short as a fireball grazed her cheek. It should have been impossible. The sea dragon was thousands of meters below the surface, far from the shore. No fireball should have reached her.
The dragon tried to stay calm, convinced she was hallucinating the way the water on the fireball's trajectory had been vaporized as if a tunnel had been bored through the ocean. Then, she saw the red Wyvern dive into the water.
Shortly after...
"I was wrong! I got carried away! I'll listen! I'll listen, just please, show mercy!"
The massive sea dragon, battered and bruised, was hauled out of the ocean by force. She was literally dragged along, screaming in pain as she was escorted away.
When she eventually returned to the sea, Eingana—now a subordinate of Magnawell—muttered with a tearful voice.
"That red Wyvern... she's so strong, it's terrifying."
A similar event occurred elsewhere.
Needsveld had gone to recruit a Hell Ground Dragon—a creature that, while not on Magnawell's level, possessed a massive frame that dwarfed any normal living thing.
"I see... I understand... I'm curious about this dragon rumored to be larger than me, so I'll go hear what he has to say..."
Needsveld listened silently with her arms crossed as the Ground Dragon spoke in an agonizingly slow, drawn-out drawl. Her expression shifted at his next words.
"But you're an executive? I wonder why they'd make such a puny little dragon an executive?"
Needsveld went silent. The Ground Dragon was a Size-ist—one of those monsters who believed that bigger was always better. Dragon Species were categorized by length as Small, Medium, Large, or Super-large. Needsveld, originally a Wyvern, was only 4.8 meters long. She was a "Small Species."
Every other executive—Fafnir, Eingana, and Magnawell himself—was a Super-large Species. Even the elite warriors in the faction were almost exclusively Large or Super-large. To be blunt, it was a massive insecurity for her.
The Ground Dragon—later known as Grandireas—who had so carelessly stepped on that landmine was left with a trauma so severe that he never spoke of another's size again. For a while, he was terrified of all Wyverns. Eventually, he concluded that "only that one is freakishly strong," and managed to overcome his fear of the rest of the species.
The Traumas of the Three Great Magic Dragons
Fafnir: A Wyvern as small as a baby was picking a fight with the King of Dragons. I thought I'd do my duty as a subordinate and take her down... but she was monstrously strong. She beat me to a pulp. I never want to fight her again.
Eingana: I didn't care about his Six Kings title. I felt insulted that he sent an inferior Wyvern as a messenger just because she was a different color. I tried to act tough as the ruler of the sea. ...I regret it. I really, really regret it.
Grandireas: I was a Size-ist like many other monsters, but I picked the wrong target. I hit her biggest insecurity, and she engraved a trauma into my soul. Even now, I shudder whenever I think about it.