While the Elder was lost in his thoughts, the rest of his group sported similar expressions, but theirs were for entirely different reasons.

While nearly all types of none-humanoid monsters had a humanoid form, the extent of their transformation, including how similar it was to one of the Chosen races, depended on varying factors.

For some reason, unknown to both Chosen and monster alike, the humanoid form would be affected by any significant Chosen populations present at the time of its birth.

The next, and seemingly most important factor, was the type of monster combined with the level it had cultivated its monster core.

A monster that had just entered the beast realm, barely better than a mindless animal, might be able to form the outline of a humanoid but would retain most, if not all, of its natural features.

Higher level monsters, those that were in the Fiend, Titan or higher realms, if their aura and eye colour were to be ignored, could almost pass off as one of the Chosen.

However, due to being a fake form, something that the monster's bloodline could adapt to optimise during the early stages of the monster's development for their survivability, it was without a doubt that nearly all humanoid forms generated by monsters were, both male and female, bewitchingly attractive in their appearance.

While the definition of beauty and charm varied between the Chosen races, high-level monsters could be considered the perfected representations of a race's ideal forms.

It was this form, that of a human earth-shaking beauty, which temporarily caused the young nobles to forget themselves.

While the nobles did not know if the scales covering the dragons' sensitive areas represented a conscious decision or that her core wasn't strong enough to completely hide her draconic traits, they could only feel that the sparse covering added an exotic vibe that only increased her appeal.

"Not even in your dreams," spat Kaltheia in disgust, both at the nobles lecherous gazes and the Elder's covetousness appearance. However, deep inside she couldn't help but sneer, knowing that any thoughts towards her egg or the true danger they had willing stepped into, had been pushed to the back of their minds.

Her cold words brought the group back to their senses, and they quickly tried to spread out in the slightly wider tunnel, not wanting to present an easy target to their prey.

"Don't worry," reassured the Elder, even as he moved towards the leftmost wall. "Dragons are only able to breathe fire in their natural form, and this tunnel is too small for her to transform."

The nine others breathed a sigh of relief. That was the first thing they thought about when they came back to their senses. Eight of them sent a dirty look to Damon who looked at the floor in embarrassment.

"I don't know who's the most stupid out of the lot of you," jeered Kaltheia, seemingly enjoying their actions. "The one who rushed out in a rage or the nine who followed him like sheep."

"You!" Damon stomped forward, his sword's glow increasing but abruptly stopped when a hand landed on his shoulder.

"Do not fall to provocation. A wounded beast is threatening, a cornered monster, dangerous. A protective mother dragon... deadly. Combine them and not even the gods will be able to save you." The green-eyed elder pulled Damon behind him as he spared a casual glance at the egg in the dragoness' hand. “Kaltheia, it's over, you have nowhere to run. Submit to me, and I will ensure you and yo-”

"So you even have intentions towards my young." A threatening hiss, one that could make blood freeze while still being pumped through the heart resonated from Kaltheia as her pretty face twisted into a terrifying expression.

The Elder only smiled, not willing to display how much the dragoness' aura intimidated him. "It's not like you have much say in the matter, is it? Dragon."

Steeling his resolve, believing the dragoness had exhausted all of her options, he stepped forward. "The lives of you and your child are in the palm of my hand. Mine to do with as I please. You have no control or power in this situation. Either you submit to me, or I kill you and take your egg and raise it like I would a dog."

"Palm of your hand?" muttered Kaltheia as she looked down at the egg, watery black tears flowing down her face.

"Yes, an-" The Elder's words caught in his throat as he finally noticed Keltheia's grim countenance.

"I have witnessed the rise and fall of Chosen kingdoms and empires," started the forlorn, almost weeping voice of Kaltheia. "The birth of saints and tyrants alike and so, I know what resides in your so-called Chosen souls. What you can't control or dominate, you destroy. What kind of mother would I be if I let my child fall into your hands. No, death is a better option. For both of us."

The Elder's mouth open and closed like a fish gasping for water.

This conversation wasn't going how he expected. While he had not had many dealings with dragons, their meetings often being very violent and bloody, he didn't believe they would choose the endless abyss over servitude, especially if that fate were for their young.

For the Chosen, death wasn't seen as something to fear but being unworthy to re-incarnate was. To their ideologies, that was the same fate as those without souls and thus, to their minds, unless given no other option, no monster would willingly choose death.

Ignoring the Elder's dilemma, the young nobles bristled with hostility.

"Isn't your kind the same," spat a leather-clad man, his appearance to be around the age of twenty. "You kill Chosen whenever you get the chance, all because we threaten your rule?"

"Threaten our rule?" replied Kaltheia in a dead voice. "What rule? You Chosen threaten the balance of life. You see anything that is not blessed by your gods as inferior and so, yours for the taking."

She gestured to her body. "To you, we are nothing but mindless beasts that have been forced to evolve into forms in ways that appeal to your disgusting fetishes. Creatures that exist only to be enslaved and butchered for your benefit. We purge your kind not because of some silly notion of dominance but because you are a plague upon this and all the worlds."

Anger flared in the nine nobles features as they gripped their weapons and resisted the urge to attack.

However, under the defeated, almost forlorn expression of the dragoness, she couldn't help but be jubilant.

The trap was almost set.

The Chosen's anger and fears now blinding them to the danger that surrounded them.

The corners of the dragoness' lips twitched upwards.

Kaltheia didn't understand how she had become so lucky. Her plan had so many variables that she had created numerous fallbacks but against all of her expectation, not only had nothing gone wrong, but everything had fallen into place perfectly.

She only needed to lay the final piece, and she could spring her trap and show the Chosen what happened to those who not only underestimated but were stupid enough to hunt dragons.