The episode ended with a peaceful sunset over endless farmland.
The protagonist of the anime stood proudly beside his newly built greenhouse while the elf villager complimented his irrigation system. Soft music played in the background as birds flew lazily across the orange sky.
The camera slowly pulled back, showing rows of healthy crops stretching across the countryside before the screen faded gently to black and the ending theme began to play.
I sat there for a moment, finishing the last bite of my onigiri while appreciating the pure tranquility of the scene.
"Now that's a good life," I murmured.
No monsters.
No dungeon alarms.
No global crises.
Just vegetables.
Vegetables were extremely underrated in modern society. People talked a lot about power, fame, legendary hunters, and world-saving battles, but very few people stopped to appreciate the quiet stability of a well-managed farm.
A tomato plant never tried to destroy a city. A cabbage had never once summoned a demonic army. From a purely statistical perspective, vegetables were the safest long-term investment for a peaceful lifestyle.
The credits rolled peacefully across the screen while I leaned back into the couch and stretched my arms lazily above my head. My shoulders popped in several places, which was mildly concerning considering the most physically demanding thing I had done today was walk to the door earlier.
Still.
It had been a productive afternoon.
I had watched my anime.
I had eaten snacks.
And I had successfully acquired three mysterious magical eggs from my apartment hallway.
...
Wait.
Right.
The eggs.
My gaze slowly drifted away from the television and toward the coffee table where the three colorful eggs sat quietly under the warm afternoon light.
They hadn't moved.
They hadn't exploded.
They hadn't hatched.
So far they had behaved exactly like normal eggs.
Which was reassuring.
Suspicious, but reassuring.
I leaned forward slightly and rested my elbows on my knees while studying them again.
"Alright," I said slowly. "Let's figure out what you three actually are."
The eggs continued being eggs.
Blue.
Red.
Gold.
Still very egg-shaped.
Still very suspicious.
I pushed myself up from the couch with the reluctant energy of a man who had been forced into investigative work against his will. My slippers shuffled quietly across the floor as I walked over to the coffee table and crouched down for a closer inspection.
"Observation number one," I muttered thoughtfully. "You are definitely not chicken eggs."
That was an important discovery.
Chicken eggs were significantly smaller.
Also significantly less magical.
I leaned closer to the blue one first, narrowing my eyes slightly. The shell had thin silver patterns running across it in delicate lines that almost looked like natural runes. They curved along the surface like flowing water, faintly reflecting the ambient light of the room.
"Interesting," I murmured.
Next I examined the red egg. Its shell was smooth but carried a faint warmth, like a piece of stone that had been sitting under sunlight all afternoon. When I hovered my hand near it, the heat was subtle but definitely present.
"Concerning," I added.
Then I studied the golden egg.
That one was the strangest of the three.
It wasn't just warm. It almost felt energetic. Not aggressively so—there was no hostile mana signature—but there was a lively pulse inside it, like the shell contained a tiny battery made entirely out of mana.
"Very concerning," I concluded.
I leaned back slightly and rubbed my chin in deep thought.
This required serious analysis.
I had seen a lot of different eggs inside dungeons before. Wyvern eggs. Giant spider eggs. Even basilisk eggs once, which had been an extremely unpleasant experience that resulted in three hunters turning into decorative statues for several hours.
But these?
These were different.
For starters, the mana density was unusually high. Not violent, not unstable—just dense. Like the mana had been carefully compressed inside the shell instead of naturally forming there.
Second, the size was odd. Monster eggs came in many shapes and sizes, but these were just a bit too large to belong to most mid-level dungeon creatures.
And finally, the color.
Blue, red, and gold.
Those were extremely vibrant for natural monster shells. Most dungeon creatures preferred camouflage or dull natural colors that blended into cave walls or forest floors. Browns, greys, muddy greens—colors that helped them avoid predators or ambush prey.
These eggs looked like they had been designed by a magical interior decorator who specialized in dramatic color palettes.
"Hmm," I said thoughtfully, leaning closer.
I sat there quietly for a full minute, staring at them with the intense concentration of a detective solving a murder mystery. My eyes moved slowly from one egg to the next as if they might suddenly confess under pressure.
Nothing happened.
The eggs remained eggs.
Eventually I sighed and leaned back slightly.
"I have absolutely no idea what these are."
That conclusion felt both disappointing and liberating.
Sometimes knowledge was overrated.
Still, I reached out and tapped the blue egg gently with my finger.
"You're definitely magical," I said.
No response.
"And probably dangerous," I continued, narrowing my eyes slightly.
Still nothing.
"Which means I should probably report you to the Hunter Guild."
Silence.
I frowned slightly.
Reporting things to the Hunter Guild came with paperwork.
Paperwork was the natural predator of peaceful lifestyles.
Also, if the Guild discovered that I had three unknown high-density mana eggs inside my apartment, they would inevitably start asking questions.
Questions like:
"Where did these come from?"
"How did you acquire them?"
"Why are you keeping them in your living room?"
And eventually the worst question of all.
"Would you be interested in assisting with further investigations?"
Absolutely not.
I leaned back and sighed again, rubbing my face with both hands.
"There has to be a simpler solution."
I looked at the eggs.
The eggs looked back.
Not literally.
They were eggs.
But still.
I sat there for another moment, letting my brain slowly process the situation. Three large eggs. High mana density. Unknown origin. Sitting inside my apartment like they belonged there.
Then an idea slowly formed inside my head.
A brilliant idea.
A practical idea.
A delicious idea.
I stood up.
"Alright," I announced to the empty apartment. "Time for dinner."
My slippers shuffled toward the kitchen while I carefully picked up the three eggs and carried them with me. They were heavier than normal eggs, but not unmanageable.
The kitchen itself was fairly ordinary: a small counter, an electric stove, a rice cooker, and several cabinets filled with ingredients I occasionally remembered to use. Nothing fancy, but perfectly functional for a peaceful life.
I set the eggs down on the counter and crossed my arms thoughtfully while looking at them like a scientist evaluating a questionable experiment.
"Eggs are eggs," I reasoned aloud.
Technically speaking, if something was an egg, then it contained protein. Protein was food. Food was dinner, and dinner was an extremely important part of maintaining a healthy and peaceful lifestyle.
Therefore, by simple logical deduction, this situation was merely a case of efficient resource management.
I nodded to myself at the flawless reasoning.
"Completely reasonable," I added.
I opened one of the drawers and pulled out a slightly worn cookbook, flipping through the pages while occasionally glancing at the eggs like they might object to the plan.
"Let's see," I muttered while scanning the recipes.
There were several good options available. Scrambled eggs were simple. Fried eggs were classic. Egg soup had a comforting elegance to it.
But eventually my finger stopped on the perfect choice.
"Omurice," I said with quiet satisfaction.
Rice. Egg. Ketchup.
Simple, elegant, and extremely comforting—exactly the kind of meal that suited a peaceful evening.
Also, these eggs were huge. One of them alone could probably feed three people, which meant this was not only dinner but also an excellent example of efficient meal planning.
"Good decision," I nodded.
I placed the cookbook on the counter and reached into the drawer again, this time retrieving a small kitchen hammer. It wasn't technically designed for eggs, but desperate culinary situations required creative solutions.
Cracking eggs was normally a straightforward process.
Tap.
Crack.
Pour.
Very simple.
I lifted the blue egg first and held it carefully above the counter.
"Alright," I said calmly. "Let's see what you taste like."
I raised the hammer slightly.
Then paused.
Because the egg suddenly started glowing.
Not a little glow.
A very noticeable glow.
The silver patterns across the shell lit up like tiny magical circuits, lines of light spreading across the surface while the entire egg radiated a bright blue aura.
"...Oh," I said.
Then the red egg started glowing too. A deep crimson light pulsed across its shell like a slow beating heart, casting flickering red reflections across the kitchen counter.
"Oh no," I added.
Then the golden egg joined them. A warm golden radiance spread outward like a miniature sunrise, filling the kitchen with soft shimmering light.
I slowly lowered the hammer.
"That is definitely not part of the omurice recipe."
The mana inside the eggs surged slightly—not violently, but enough to make the air feel subtly heavier.
My instincts immediately started ringing alarm bells.
I had experienced this kind of mana activity before.
Usually right before something extremely inconvenient happened.
"Alright," I muttered while carefully setting the hammer down. "New plan."
Cooking was cancelled.
Immediately.
I grabbed the blue egg carefully.
"We are taking you outside," I informed it.
If something magical was about to hatch or explode, it was significantly better to let it do so somewhere that didn't contain my furniture, my kitchen appliances, or my security deposit.
I turned toward the apartment door.
Then stopped.
Because the blue egg made a small sound.
Crack.
I froze.
Slowly, I looked down.
A thin line had appeared across the shell.
Then the red egg made the same sound.
Crack.
A second fracture spread slowly across its glowing surface.
The golden egg followed.
Crack.
Now all three eggs were glowing.
And all three shells were splitting open.
Three glowing eggs.
Three cracks spreading slowly across their surfaces.
I stared at them silently for several seconds.
Then I sighed.
"...I don't like this feeling at all."
The moment the words left my mouth, the blue egg in my hands suddenly shone even brighter.
Not just bright.
Blinding.
The silver patterns across the shell lit up like a complex magic circle, lines of light racing across the surface while the cracks spreading across it widened with alarming speed.
"Ah," I said slowly while staring down at it.
"That's probably bad."
For a brief moment I considered throwing the egg out the window.
Not out of panic.
Just basic risk management.
If something magical was about to explode, the street outside was significantly more replaceable than my kitchen appliances, my couch, and most importantly my security deposit.
Unfortunately, before I could commit to that extremely responsible plan, the egg made a very loud sound.
CRACK.
The shell split further.
I froze.
Mana surged from inside the egg like a miniature storm, swirling around my hands in cold blue currents. The temperature in the kitchen dropped instantly. A thin layer of frost began forming along the edge of the counter.
"Okay," I muttered under my breath. "Definitely not a chicken."
Another crack appeared.
Then another.
The entire shell started breaking apart piece by piece until suddenly a tiny claw punched through the opening.
I blinked.
The claw wiggled.
Then the egg burst apart in a small shower of glowing fragments.
Something tiny popped out.
For a moment, my brain refused to process what I was seeing.
The creature sitting in my palm was about the size of a kitten. Its scales were a brilliant sapphire blue that shimmered softly under the kitchen lights. Two small wings folded neatly along its back, and a pair of tiny curved horns rested above its head. A thin tail flicked lazily behind it while bright curious eyes blinked up at me.
Then it opened its mouth.
And sneezed.
A small puff of frost drifted into the air.
Ice crystals instantly formed across the edge of my kitchen counter.
I stared at it.
The tiny creature stared back.
We remained like that for several seconds.
"..."
"..."
I blinked once.
Then again.
"Huh," I said.
The tiny creature chirped happily.
It also breathed a second, slightly stronger puff of icy air that froze the corner of my cookbook.
"Right," I murmured slowly. "So that's happening."
A small part of my brain tried very hard to process the situation logically.
Magical egg.
Tiny winged creature.
Ice breath.
Scales.
Horns.
Wings.
I sighed.
"Of course," I said quietly. "Dragon."
Because apparently the universe had decided my retirement plan was getting a little too comfortable.
The tiny blue dragon tilted its head while studying me with wide curious eyes. Then, without any hesitation whatsoever, it climbed further up my arm using my sleeve like a convenient staircase before settling comfortably on my shoulder.
"No," I told it immediately.
"Absolutely not."
The dragon chirped again.
Then licked my cheek.
Its tongue was cold.
Very cold.
"Fantastic," I muttered.
Unfortunately, my peaceful existential crisis was interrupted by another loud sound.
CRACK.
I slowly turned my head.
The red egg was now glowing like a miniature furnace.
"Oh come on," I groaned.
The shell burst open violently.
A second tiny creature shot out of the egg like a cannonball and landed directly on the kitchen counter.
This one was bright crimson. Its scales shimmered like polished rubies, and its wings flapped aggressively as it looked around the kitchen with the boundless energy of something that had just discovered existence five seconds ago.
Then it opened its mouth.
And breathed fire.
A small but extremely enthusiastic burst of flame shot across the kitchen.
Directly toward the living room.
Where my curtains were located.
The curtains caught fire instantly.
I stared at the burning fabric.
The red dragon stared proudly at its accomplishment.
"..."
"You know," I said slowly, "most children wait at least five minutes before committing arson."
The flames began spreading across the curtain.
I sighed.
"One moment," I told the dragons politely.
I walked over to the sink, grabbed a small bucket, filled it with water, and calmly dumped it onto the burning curtain.
The fire went out immediately.
The curtain was now partially soaked and slightly charred.
"Well," I said thoughtfully. "There goes my security deposit."
Behind me, the red dragon chirped loudly and hopped around the counter with endless energy. The blue one on my shoulder responded with a frosty squeak.
"Please stop communicating," I muttered.
Unfortunately, the situation escalated further.
Because the golden egg started glowing.
I slowly turned around again.
"You know," I said tiredly, "I was really hoping we could stop at two."
The golden egg cracked softly.
Unlike the other two, the shell didn't explode.
Instead it opened gradually, like a flower unfolding.
A tiny golden head peeked out.
Large bright eyes blinked slowly at the world.
Then the creature carefully climbed out of the shell.
It was slightly smaller than the other two dragons. Its scales shimmered like polished sunlight, glowing warmly under the kitchen lights. Its tiny wings fluttered uncertainly as it looked around the room with gentle curiosity.
Then it waddled toward me with small unsteady steps, its tiny claws making soft tapping sounds against the kitchen floor. The blue dragon on my shoulder leaned forward curiously while the red dragon hopped closer along the counter to watch.
The golden dragon reached my foot, paused for a moment as if evaluating the climb ahead, and then began scaling me like a very determined mountaineer. First my pant leg, then my knee, then my hoodie. Its tiny claws tugged at the fabric as it worked its way upward with surprising determination.
Eventually it reached my shoulder and immediately curled against my neck as if that had always been the correct and obvious place to sit.
"..."
I stood there silently for several seconds while my brain attempted to process the situation.
Three baby dragons.
One breathing ice.
One breathing fire.
And one glowing like a tiny sun.
All of them were currently sitting on my body like this was the most natural arrangement in the universe.
I slowly exhaled and pinched the bridge of my nose.
"Alright," I said at last. "Let's review today's events."
This morning I had woken up peacefully. I had eaten snacks. I had watched anime about farming. My biggest concern had been whether tomatoes or cabbages were the superior crop for a quiet countryside life.
And now, somehow, I was standing in my kitchen with three freshly hatched dragons treating me like a piece of furniture.
"That escalated quickly," I concluded.
The golden dragon snuggled more comfortably against my neck as if agreeing with that assessment. The blue one on my shoulder leaned forward and licked my ear with its freezing tongue, while the red dragon discovered the drawstring of my hoodie and began chewing on it with enthusiastic determination.
I stared up at the ceiling and let out a long breath.
Then a quiet laugh escaped my mouth.
Not a happy laugh—more the kind of laugh a man makes when he realizes fate has just kicked down his front door, walked into his kitchen, and rearranged all of his life plans.
"My slow life," I murmured.
"Was apparently a temporary illusion."
*****
End of Chapter 2
RETIREMENT STATUS REPORT
Owner: Ren Arclight
Former Occupation: World-Saving Archmage
Current Occupation: Retired Hunter (Self-Declared)
Peaceful Life Goal:
Watch anime, eat snacks, and eventually run a quiet tomato farm somewhere far away from dungeons and disasters.
Today's Activities:
*Finished watching farming anime
*Conducted investigation of mysterious magical eggs
*Attempted to turn said eggs into omurice
*Discovered eggs were not food
*Accidentally hatched three baby dragons
*Prevented kitchen fire caused by newborn dragon
*Became climbing structure for three magical creatures
New Household Members:
*Small Blue Dragon (Ice Breath)
*Small Red Dragon (Fire Breath / Arson Enthusiast)
*Small Golden Dragon (Unknown / Suspiciously Cute)
Property Damage:
*One partially burned curtain
*One frozen cookbook corner
*Kitchen temperature now unstable
Peaceful Retirement Stability:
100% Start of Chapter
70% Eggs Started Glowing
40% First Dragon Hatched
15% Fire Breath Incident
0% All Three Dragons Climbed Onto me
Current Retirement Status:
Officially Destroyed
Immediate Concerns:
*Dragons appear to believe I'm some kind of furniture
*One dragon has already attempted arson
*Another dragon can freeze household objects
*Third dragon currently weaponizing cuteness
Future Outlook:
Extremely Loud
Archmage Personal Statement:
"I was trying to make omurice."
Prediction:
Tomorrow will somehow be worse.