The Red Dragon Just Wants To Do As It Pleases

The golden ring on David's wrist, a gift from Shalaina, trembled once again as Magic Power gathered.

A layer of Petrification Armor quickly condensed around him.

He stood firm as hail battered against him with crisp, sharp sounds, then froze into solid ice. He made no attempt to dodge.

As the ice accumulated, growing larger, he soon resembled a small iceberg plummeting from the sky.

The low-flying White Dragon panicked at this sight. She feared she had struck too hard, dazing the other dragon before he could even react. She immediately took a deep breath, attempting to use her Frost Dragon's Breath to slow the other dragon's seemingly uncontrolled nosedive.

After all, he is a Silver Dragon, also of the frost element; my breath would be a mere squall to him. If he were to die crashing headlong into the ground, that unreasonable clan of Silver Dragons would probably team up and raid my Dragon Nest on the Old Continent! In my nest, I have a clutch of hatchlings I've only just trained to hunt in the sea and support me, their aging mother. If my nest were destroyed again, like it was ten years ago, I'd truly suffer from postpartum depression!

David, of course, couldn't know the White Dragon's 'compassionate' thoughts. She's incredibly stupid, he thought, to even consider using Dragon Breath against me.

So, when he was less than five hundred meters from her, he suddenly struggled free, shattering the stone and ice encasing him, and adjusted his course to rapidly gain altitude.

But under the terrifying acceleration, the shattered chunks of rock and ice rained down like a barrage of grenades, blanketing the Barbarians' landing site on the West Coast.

"What... what kind of magic is this!?"

As the White Dragon watched this terrifying spectacle, like a meteor shower, the Frost Dragon's Breath she was about to unleash dribbled out like a hiccup. She immediately clamped her mouth shut.

If one of those things had fallen into my mouth while I was inhaling, she thought with horror, I'd probably be the first adult Dragon in history to be killed by a 'stone'!

The barrage of stone was too widespread; there was no escape. She could only curl up as tightly as possible and then fully manifest a Frost Shield.

But the shield had barely formed when a stone, moving at over two hundred kilometers per hour like a solid cannonball, smashed it to pieces, exploding into myriad drifting ice crystals.

The next stone, to her disbelief, struck her chest, caving it in instantly.

I think several of my ribs are broken...

She immediately let out an agonized cry and plummeted from the sky.

King Giral was leading a group of Barbarians in retreat towards the longships beached on the shore when he heard the White Dragon's agonizing scream. All their hearts seemed to leap into their throats.

That was an adult White Dragon, after all!

Could it be that young Silver Dragons, or even adult Silver Dragons, have already arrived on the battlefield?

King Giral looked back and saw the White Dragon fall from the low sky, crashing right onto the forest Temple. At the same time, he noticed a Silver Dragon, his scales glinting under the moonlight, hurtling towards them from above, followed by countless stone fragments that rapidly magnified in size like lethal raindrops.

"Raise shields! Take cover!" King Giral yelled, but his voice was almost drowned out by the deafening roar of the projectiles. He could only scramble for cover behind an earthen berm as he slid down the coastal slope. The whistling grew closer and louder, as if the Grim Reaper's scythe was swinging down upon their heads.

Suddenly, a series of thunderous impacts shook the coastal landing site. The Elven treehouses, already plundered, were blasted apart, sending splintered wood and debris flying. The earthen berm behind him was also continuously bombarded by these 'sky-fallen meteorites,' trembling with each impact as rocks and soil rained down, kicking up clouds of dust.

King Giral personally witnessed one of his shield-bearing guards being obliterated, man and shield alike, and saw at least half of their longships capsize and slowly sink amidst towering plumes of water.

"No!" His heart twisted in agony.

He could accept losing some men, but the destruction of the ships meant not everyone could escape. This is a disaster!

As the earth-shattering explosions gradually subsided, the surviving Barbarians incredulously raised their heads. The once picturesque coastline was utterly transformed, now a scene of devastation shrouded in smoke and dust, littered with mangled corpses and shattered round shields.

They had initially been relieved that this 'magic,' despite its power, seemed somewhat inaccurate. However, their relief turned to stark terror when, like King Giral, they saw that at least half of the longships had been sunk. Those who noticed first could only hastily grab a few valuables from the corpses before scrambling towards the remaining vessels.

The situation quickly escalated as members from different tribes aboard the overcrowded longships began to brawl, fighting for a spot to return home. Unlike Elven ships, which could handle some overloading, Barbarian longships had a strict one-man-per-spot limit. Overloading them, especially with their plundered wealth, risked capsizing.

While the Barbarians were brawling over spots on the ships for the homeward journey, the terrifying whistling sound from over the sea returned.

"The dragon is back!"

Despair washed over the Barbarians. Many still on the ships hurriedly leaped into the sea to avoid the terrifying 'magic.' Can we even make it home if this happens again?

However, to the Barbarians' astonishment, when the dragon wheeled back from the sea, its speed seemed to have finally normalized. It paid them no mind, heading straight for the White Dragon near the Temple.

The crews on the severely overloaded longships frantically rowed, carrying their stolen treasures out to the open sea in a desperate escape.

As a dozen or so Barbarians emerged from the water after evading the barrage, they saw their compatriots' ships already distant, and the returning High Elves.

"The advantage is ours! Glory awaits us today! Charge!"

Meanwhile, David, his face alight with excitement, was darting towards the White Dragon he had 'ambushed.' He was prepared to capture an adult dragon single-handedly and give his old man and dragon sister a little shock.

But the White Dragon, apparently sensing his approach and intent, immediately scrambled up like a startled old hen, flapping its limbs and wings. It rose from the Temple—which now sported a gaping hole in its roof like a skylight—circled briefly with David along the coastline, and then fled over the sea without a backward glance.

Furious and 'out of fuel,' David could only shout curses after her: "You damn coward! Get back here!"

But this time, the distance between them was too great; he wasn't even within range to activate his Authority of Wrath.

This infuriated David. Wrath.

Watching their Dragon Lord jumping up and down on the shore in a rage, Hiatt and Yevgeny, who were directing the Elves to round up prisoners, felt a sense of déja vu. They exchanged glances and sighed in unison.

Our Dragon Lord, they thought, no matter where he goes, is always so…energetic. And so formidable. To be targeted by someone like him… the Elven Kingdom… is probably in deep trouble.