Spawning

Chetechetechetechetechetech…

Dirt parted as little tiny fingers poked out of the surface of the ground, followed by little tiny hands, then little tiny arms, then a little tiny head.

A small child was digging itself out from the ground after being born from the earth.

Having completely emerged, the small child sat on its bottom and looked around. Though, it could not yet understand anything it perceived.

The small child was in the center of a small clearing in a dense forest full of tall shrubbery and trees. A gentle wind blew, rustling leaves as it passed.

The child tried to crawl but had no energy left after rigorously digging. It sat there in the upturned dirt and grass, simply observing.

Suddenly, growls reverberated from nearby. The child turned its body to observe the new stimulus. A small group of cats appeared from a bush to its left. They approached the child, smelling it to ensure it was a source of food.

Of course, the small child did not know anything and could not comprehend that it was in danger. It simply sat there, watching as the biggest cat from the group reached out with its head to chomp on the child's neck.

Then, just before the cat's teeth sank into the child's soft flesh…

"HALT!"

An awe-inspiring voice released a majestic wind that shot towards the small group of cats. Fwoosh! They were effortlessly carried by the wind into the distance. The cats never even had the chance to retaliate before they were expelled from the area.

Following the grand wind was the figure of a tall, handsome man in a bright yellow uniform. On his back was the acronym "GRC", accompanied by his name: Apil.

Sweat ran down his face and his chest heaved mightily. He was shaken from how quickly he just moved to save the child.

"This should be the very last one! Really, for this little…"—he paused to confirm—"…guy to have spawned at the last second possible was almost his misfortune!" Apil thought back to just moments ago when the herd of wild cats nearly made the little kid their dinner.

Apil lifted the small child into his arms and used a finger to tickle its tummy.

"Lucky you that I chose to make one last round."

Hearing the kid laugh seemingly caused all of Apil's fatigue to disperse. His lips formed a dazzling smile, eventually also releasing a laugh.

After tickling the small child for a few moments, Apil placed it on his right hand and concentrated for a moment.

"About 30 pounds. Just right for a ground-born!"

Apil carefully positioned the child in his arms before looking up at the beautiful sky and appreciating the wonderful weather.

"Now then, let's get you home!"

The man's figure flickered, then disappeared.

...

"Do you think his hunch was on point?"

"No way, there have already been over fifty! For one to have spawned at the very last second is...the chances are so low. I don't think I've ever heard of it happening."

"Well, me neither, but considering the amount of ground-born this century, maybe one could really have spawned at the last moment possible?"

"If one did, then Apil will come out of the forest carrying it."

A group of men and women in bright yellow uniforms were standing together with large golden baskets full of small children just outside of a large forest. Two men in the group were discussing their thoughts about Apil's decision to search the forest one last time.

It wasn't the case that it was impossible for another ground-born to have spawned at the very last second, but it was unheard of. Couple that with the fact that fifty-one ground-born were found, thirty-six more than the average, and the chances of yet another baby were incredibly minuscule.

Apil was a worry-wart, as they say. He didn't like how the GRC members left the forest two seconds before the spawning ended. He was paranoid, thinking that the Heavens would play a trick on them and spawn just one more after they left.

"Here he comes! Before we see for ourselves, wanna make a bet?"

"Oh, shut up! I knew you've been eyeing my money! Explode, you damned compulsory-gambler!"

The GRC members sensed Apil approaching and paid close attention to where he'd arrive from. They were all quite curious about whether his hunch was on the mark.

A moment later...whooooosh. A figure landed on the ground in front of them, carefully carrying something in his arms.

"GAH! Should've made the bet!"

Gasps of surprise could be heard as the GRC members saw the small child in Apil's arms.

After the gasps, everyone went silent as they realized their mistake. All members of the GRC were too embarrassed to look Apil in the eye, much less speak. If he hadn't gone another round through the spawning grounds...

"What has happened, happened. No need to fret about the past. What's important is that this little guy was discovered and retrieved."

Apil's smile was too bright for the GRC members, but they took his words to heart. A dozen voices all spoke at once.

"I'm sorry."

Apil acknowledged their apology with a simple nod before placing the child in one of the golden baskets.

"Let's head back."

...

"The spawning period ended a few minutes ago; the GRC should be back any moment now!"

"How many do you think there are this time? Do you think the current generation will be larger or smaller than the last?"

"Oh! Here they come!"

"Wow... Look at how many of them there are!"

"Ha ha! You owe me three thousand vidi!"

"Noooohhhh! How did you predict there'd be so many?!"

The buildings were enveloped in decorative banners and lamps, the streets were full of people, and the mood was one of merriment! The entire city of Esharra was celebrating the centenary event of spawning. As most dragons did not live beyond one hundred fifty years, they treasured the one or two times they could witness it. Well, they didn't exactly watch the ground-born crawl out from the dirt, but they did partake in festivities as well as see the GRC carry the babies into the city.

As soon as the GRC entered the city, they lifted the golden baskets above their heads. The man at the very forefront of the group, Apil, roared into the skies, "Fifty-two!"

The crowds silenced for a moment, comprehending what Apil just said, before releasing their own cries of excitement into the sky. It was a tradition for the lead GRC member to call out how many ground-born they found, then for the crowds to cheer. It happened every hundred years, without fail.

The GRC then continued their march through the city's main street, heading straight towards Esharra's City Hall. Waiting at its entrance was the City Lord, an old man with gray hair, who stood on a podium.

Upon reaching City Hall, the GRC members set down the golden baskets and paused. The surrounding crowds also settled down. Moments later, the City Lord cleared his throat and looked out over the tens of thousands of people. The main street of Esharra and the area surrounding City Hall were vast enough to easily accommodate such a crowd.

"I, Dardanos,"—the City Lord began his speech—"am proud to be here to welcome this generation of ground-born."

Dardanos' voice seemed capable of quelling raging seas as it gently swept out over the tens of thousands of people, not too loud, not too soft. As if he stood next to each and every individual and spoke directly to them.

"Every hundred years, a team of fine men and women form the Ground-born Recovery Committee,"—Dardanos used a hand to gesture towards Apil and the other people in bright yellow uniforms—"to retrieve the dragons birthed by our beautiful home, Planet Dragunity, in Tukulti Forest."

He paused before continuing.

"We dragons are the planet's children and its strongest race! The first of our kind dealt with many hardships and struggled to establish themselves as a superpower. It was through their hard work and great effort that we have risen to such prominence! Thus, we cannot shame our ancestors. We will live and die as one!"

The City Lord's traditional speech lasted ten minutes before the sun in the sky began to set. However, the sky's darkening did not signal a night of sleep, but rather a night of partying! The centenary spawning occurred all over the planet and thus was a global week-long holiday. No schedules were disturbed or interrupted because, for eons, dragons had revolved everything around it.