The mother of the little eggs never came.
They shivered, silent, lost, unsure where to go.
And somehow, I—a rotten egg with no direction in life—felt responsible.
"Am I... a parent now?" I thought grimly.
Strangely, I didn't hate the idea.
These kids, a dozen tiny eggs with various colors and patterns, began sticking close to me.
Each night, they slept around me, relying on my foul odor—which, oddly enough, repelled low-class monsters.
But this world is unforgiving.
We couldn't stay hidden forever.
I had to make them strong. I had to become stronger.
So, with newfound determination, I led them deeper into the dungeon.
It wasn't easy.
I had to roll my body slowly, making sure all the kids followed.
Some of them slipped often. One even clung to my back like a tick.
The first monster we encountered was a giant one-eyed rat.
I leapt—boosted by a bit of fire power—and rammed into it, sending it flying.
After the fight, I taught the kids how to absorb leftover energy from the monster through their shells.
They couldn't do it as fast as I could yet, but they were learning.
I gave them names, one by one, based on their colors and quirks:
**Oyen** – the naughtiest, always itching to fight.
**Item** – calm, but terrifying when angry.
**Belang** – mimics my rolling, often ends up tumbling.
**Putih** – the most clueless, always confused.
And the others...
We hunted together, grew stronger together, protected one another.
Never in my life did I imagine this.
From a cursed, rotten egg...
to the "dad" of a squad of warrior eggs.
One night, as we gathered beneath the glow of a blue crystal, I whispered:
> "If a mother's love knows no bounds... then maybe an egg's love spans this entire dungeon world."
Then I paused.
> "What the heck am I saying... I'm a guy.
> And… I'm literally just a rotten egg."
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