Dracotitán

"Enlarge? This spell sounds like a joke too." Muria glanced at the spellbook in his hand and tossed it aside, where it was promptly caught by a visibly nervous and obedient unseen servant, who returned it to its original shelf.

Enlarge, a first-level spell, basically allows the caster to increase the size and strength of a humanoid creature. However, it was clear that such a spell would be completely ineffective on Muria's true form and utterly pointless on his human form. Why bother with it when he could simply revert to his dragon form?

"So many low-level spells are just a waste of time to learn. I wonder what the mages who created them were thinking." Muria scanned through one spellbook after another, closely examining their effects.

"What's this now? Tentacle Tongue, turning one's tongue into tentacles." Muria expressed his disdain, "I'm sure the mage who created this spell was a pervert."

"Cure Minor Wounds. For minor injuries, my natural healing is faster than the spell casting time, no need to learn it."

"Swim Faster. Heh, I'm a man who can dive to catch fish."

"Reduce. Pfft, I'm already small enough."

"Seasickness Resistance. First, I'd need a boat."

"Enough of this, the truly useful first-level spells are few and far between, mostly just support spells. The direct attack spells are too weak to be of any use against those dragon hatchlings. Only spells enhanced by my bloodline seem worthwhile."

"Second-level spells look good, but why are there more tentacle spells? Sharp Tooth Tentacle, extending a tentacle from the hand, then splitting into three smaller ones, each with a toothy mouth." Muria gagged, "Such a bizarre spell. Which sane mage would learn this?"

Picking and choosing, Muria discarded the spells he found unappealing or bizarre, focusing only on those he deemed worthwhile...

"Yawn!" Muria stretched widely, "I've almost exhausted my mental energy, only managed to construct five second-level spells. I really have too little mental power; it's simply not enough."

Unaware of his privilege, Muria's remarks could make any ordinary Silver mage seethe with envy. Unlike most mages, who deliberate deeply before constructing a spell model, Muria directly expends vast amounts of mental energy to grind proficiency.

Ordinary human mages proceed with caution, typically ensuring complete memorization of a spell model and mulling over it for days or weeks to aim for a successful construction within one to three tries.

Muria, however, could afford to fail over ten times even with the simplest cantrips, let alone second-level spells which are two tiers higher in difficulty. It turns out, he managed to construct the fourth-level spell Transform after only a few failures, purely by luck.

Compared to the mental energy used for successful spell model construction, the energy lost to failures accounted for over ninety-five percent of Muria's total mental capacity. This was the price Muria paid for repeatedly constructing spell models in a short time, easily replenished with a good night's sleep.

"This world really isn't fair," Muria mused. He was no longer a novice to Erathia, having accessed all he wished to know from the Golden Dragoness's library.

"Fortunately, I'm not on the side lamenting the world's unfairness." Muria briefly reflected before shifting his focus to enhancing his combat abilities.

As for power growth, Muria felt no need to fret; he could grow stronger just by sleeping. What he needed to consider was how to effectively unleash his strength, transforming it into tangible combat power.

"Making full use of my mental energy to boost my spellcasting abilities is something I'm already doing, and now I can't continue constructing spell models." After some thought, Muria concluded, "Neither for the Golden Dragons nor for the Titans, spellcasting abilities are merely an addition to their renown. What truly made them famous was their melee combat prowess."

"So, my main focus should be on improving my close combat skills." Muria nodded to himself, "The thrill of hand-to-hand combat does sound exciting, though it comes with the risk of injury."

"For melee combat, the knowledge is all there in the legacy memories of the Titans." Muria browsed through the inherited knowledge of the Titan race, his lips curling slightly. He had received this knowledge long ago but had never really delved into it, partly due to lack of opportunity or perhaps subconscious avoidance. Now, taking a closer look, Muria was astounded.

"Should I say it's no surprise from a world-renowned legendary combat race? Besides the basic inheritance of Titan, Giant, and Common languages, the rest is all about combat knowledge.

The second batch of Titan knowledge I received was purely combat knowledge. Let's see what's included: 'Choice and Use of Weapons,' 'Techniques of the Double-Edged Battle Axe,' 'On Precise Spear Throwing,' 'Basic Skills with a Warhammer'..."

As Muria went through the list of various weapon techniques, his head began to spin. It seemed his paternal lineage was quite intense; the Titan knowledge in his mind, aside from basic language skills, was all about combat.

"With my current physique..." Muria pondered his babyish form, somewhat speechless, feeling unfit for combat, "And to use these combat skills effectively, I'd need a suitable weapon, wouldn't I?"

"So, am I limited to using my fists for close combat?" In a flash of light, Muria reverted to his true form, raising his meaty fist, larger than a pot.

"The most suitable for my current situation is still the 'Hand-to-Hand Combat' from the Titan legacy."

Scratching his head, Muria looked down at his white robe, murmuring, "This robe can resize with my body, so it should be fine to wear it into battle, right?"

"Regardless, I'll rest for a bit and then find some ferocious beasts to test the Titan's combat techniques." Muria didn't bother returning to his own room but instead walked out of the library, found a room that looked comfortable, barged in, and, without a second thought, reverted to his human form and flopped onto the bed to sleep soundly.

Now, Muria had come to regard his room more as a dragon nursery. Sleeping there was impossible for him; the dragon hatchlings might attack him at any moment.

"Hmm, smells nice." Muria inhaled the faint fragrance from the bedding, slowly drifting off, "Wonder if it's the dragon maids' body scent or the lingering aroma of perfume."

...

"Mia, stop pinching, that's enough."

"So tender. Don't worry, I'll pinch a bit more. Who told Muria to take my bed, preventing me from sleeping?"

"If Muria wakes up, you're doomed."

"What's there to fear? We serve the chief of the good dragons, the Golden Dragon, not an evil dragon. At most, we'll face a minor punishment."

"Even if it's a good dragon, it's still a dragon, Mia..."

When Muria woke up groggily, he heard two very young female voices arguing in Draconic. At the moment, what he felt most was the delicate hand incessantly pinching his face.

Then, the uncomfortable Muria fully opened his

 golden eyes, woodenly observing the two dragon maids in front of him, both with fine golden scales on their cheeks.

One of the beautiful young dragon maids was squatting in front of him, leaning close and extending a hand to pinch his cheek, while her companion anxiously tried to stop her actions.

"Are you done pinching?" Muria asked expressionlessly, not fully awake and in a poor mental state.

"Hehe." The dragon maid Mia, absorbed in the delightful tactile sensation and arguing with her companion, only then realized her misstep and sheepishly retracted her hand.

"Master Muria, Mia didn't mean to offend you. Please forgive her impudence," the dragon maid pulling Mia pleaded on her knees, seeking clemency for her companion.

"Master Muria, you took my bed first. I had nowhere to sleep, so I kept staring at you. Then I thought you were too cute, and I couldn't help but pinch your face. It's not my fault."

"Your bed is big enough for two," Muria said, still expressionless, possibly due to the depletion of his mental energy, as he felt very sleepy.

After saying that, he closed his eyes again, turned over, and fell asleep with his back to the dragon maids.

Hearing his words, the kneeling dragon maid and Mia exchanged shocked looks, and then the daring dragon maid Mia cheered, "Michelle, sleep, let's sleep."

The kneeling dragon maid, still puzzled, hadn't fully grasped what had happened. In her view, strict hierarchies should be maintained, and crossing them would surely lead to punishment.

"Mia, what are you doing?" Dragon Maid Michelle watched in shock as Mia quickly undressed and crawled into bed, though she had seen such scenes many times before. But this time was different.

"Sleeping," Mia answered matter-of-factly.

"But, but Master Muria is still here..."

"Master Muria has already agreed," Mia said with a smile.

...Golden sunlight filtered through the curtains into a room in the Crystal Castle where the dragon maids lived.

"Ah~ Ha~" Muria yawned, opening his eyes to darkness, then smelling the familiar fragrance, feeling the soft touch on his face, and the slight constriction on his body, he realized he was being tightly embraced by a well-formed woman.

Some believe stories shouldn't have the protagonist being taken away.

Firstly, the one taking the protagonist isn't just anyone; it's his birth mother, which shouldn't be considered mistreating the protagonist. This plot point is a setup for future developments needed for the story's progression.

.