A dragon battle ended abruptly as Rhaegar commanded Devourer to swiftly leave the battlefield.
Dragon Mountain
Vermithor was still soaring through the night sky. Devourer descended, vanishing into the chaotic mountain range under the cover of darkness.
"Screech—!"
As soon as Devourer landed, it twisted its ferocious head and let out a displeased shriek at its rider, filled with frustration and disappointment.
Rhaegar raised a hand to shield himself from the foul-smelling wind, sighing helplessly. "Hey, don't be like that, buddy."
The bond between man and dragon allowed Rhaegar to sense Devourer's fury—it was as though the dragon wanted to blast him with a mouthful of dragonfire.
"I'm really sorry, but we can't tear each other apart."
After waiting for the screeches to subside, Rhaegar removed his black cloak, now dampened by dragon saliva, and apologetically tossed two slabs of sea monster jerky, each as big as a millstone.
"Roar..."
Devourer growled lowly, its throat vibrating as it snatched up the jerky and swallowed it whole.
"Good boy." Rhaegar stroked the dragon's obsidian scales, offering generous praise.
Devourer shook its head dismissively and lay down grumpily, clearly unwilling to engage further with its foolish rider.
Rhaegar smirked quietly, though doubt crept into his heart.
It seemed Devourer had developed quite a taste for sea monster meat—most of the carcass left behind in Smoke Sea had been devoured by it.
Not long after they landed, the shadow of a massive dragon emerged from Dragon Mountain.
Devourer's head snapped up, its green slit pupils locked intensely on the figure in the sky.
"Screech..."
The approaching dragon let out a high-pitched cry, flapping its wings as it descended, sniffing the air cautiously.
Moments later, the dragon perched atop a nearby low mountain, its burning gaze fixed on Rhaegar and Devourer.
Rhaegar half-knelt on Devourer's back, observing the dragon in the distance.
Its body was covered in green scales; silver-white wings gleamed on its back. It had elegant, curved horns and a powerful build.
"Silverwing?" Rhaegar muttered in surprise.
Silverwing, contemporaneous with Vermithor, Devourer, and Dreamfyre, had once belonged to the gentle Queen Alysanne Targaryen.
This dragon was enormous, only slightly smaller than Vermithor and a bit larger than Dreamfyre.
Despite its fierce appearance, Silverwing was renowned as the gentlest of dragons.
"Screech..."
Silverwing glared at Devourer with hostility, spreading its silver-white wings and issuing a sharp, challenging screech.
Its mate had just fought with Devourer, awakening it from slumber.
"Screech—!"
Devourer, unwilling to be provoked without retaliation, roared back a warning.
The two dragons stared each other down across the mountain, eyes filled with animosity.
Rhaegar frowned, sensing trouble.
Silverwing's arrival was most unfortunate—it coincided with Devourer's particularly irritable mood.
After a brief silence, Rhaegar patted Devourer's back and issued a command: "Go on, Devourer. Teach it a lesson."
He couldn't keep suppressing Devourer's nature or its hunger for blood and flesh.
Choosing an opponent with moderate toughness might even improve their bond.
"Screech—!"
Excited by the command, Devourer screeched triumphantly. After a few powerful strides, it launched into the sky like a black meteor, hurtling toward Silverwing.
Devourer didn't necessarily need to eat other dragons, but nothing could replace the thrill of the hunt.
The terrified cries of a dragon as it was torn apart sent an intoxicating rush through Devourer's blood.
"Screech..."
Seeing the black dragon charging toward it, Silverwing roared furiously, spewing a spiraling blast of orange dragonfire.
Boom!
Devourer, now fully exhilarated, had no intention of dodging. It charged headfirst through the flames, its green pupils gleaming with cruelty.
Crunch!
In an instant, Devourer pounced on Silverwing, sinking its teeth into the dragon's left shoulder, tearing out a gush of scalding dragon blood.
Silverwing screeched wildly, battering Devourer's head with its wings while snapping its jaws at Devourer's exposed neck.
"Screech—!"
Devourer dodged nimbly, planting its talons into Silverwing's abdomen and unleashing torrents of eerie green dragonfire.
The flames struck Silverwing squarely. It roared in agony, stretching its neck to evade the firestorm before retaliating by biting into Devourer's right leg.
"Screech..."
Both dragons shrieked in pain as they descended into a savage melee.
In just the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, Devourer was covered in wounds, its black scales torn and glistening with hot dragon blood.
Fortunately, the injuries were superficial—mostly flesh wounds that didn't penetrate its abdomen or damage its wings.
Silverwing, however, fared much worse.
After the chaotic brawl, Silverwing couldn't match the larger, more savage Devourer.
Chunks of flesh were ripped from Silverwing's neck, its left shoulder shattered, and a deep gash split open its abdomen.
Rhaegar observed the entire battle silently.
"Screech—!"
Devourer clamped its jaws around Silverwing's neck again, pinning it down while shaking its head violently to tear more flesh.
Silverwing shrieked miserably but never stopped struggling, its claws slashing into Devourer's abdomen and piercing its scales.
At last, Rhaegar spoke: "Devourer, that's enough!"
Devourer hesitated before snapping off a piece of flesh and swallowing it. Then it broke free from Silverwing's grasp and took to the sky.
Though it relished the savage thrill of battle, it had to consider its rider and avoid serious injuries.
For a wild dragon, a grave injury often meant death.
"Screech..."
Silverwing roared furiously, disregarding its injured wing as it tried to take flight.
But its severe wounds made balance impossible; it wobbled midair, worsening its injuries as blood poured from its body.
"Devourer, let's go!"
Rhaegar's eyes darkened as he urged Devourer to leave.
Just moments ago, Devourer had torn off two chunks of Silverwing's flesh and drank deeply of its blood.
Rhaegar's keen senses detected something unsettling—each time Devourer's maw tasted dragon blood, its blood flow quickened, and the fire magic within it surged even more violently.
The glutton was in an unusually excited state, seemingly driven by fire magic to devour more dragon flesh and blood, fueling an inexplicable greed.
"Consuming dragons helps the glutton grow," Rega calmly concluded.
Though the effect was subtle, he was certain of it.
Dragons were the most powerful magical creatures, with their scales, flesh, and bones all containing varying degrees of fire magic.
The glutton's rapid growth was most likely linked to stealing dragon eggs and hunting young dragons.
Boom—
Suddenly, a rumbling sound echoed from the distant sky, signaling an unusual disturbance.
"Roar..."
The glutton let out a low growl, raising its dragon head in alertness. Its green vertical pupils gleamed with a hint of frenzy.
Rega also lifted his head, brushing aside his disheveled silver hair as he gazed toward the anomaly in the sky.
The dark clouds parted, revealing a bright moon.
A massive, blood-red meteor suddenly appeared, streaking across the pitch-black night sky.
The meteor was enormous, its bright color standing out against the darkness, leaving a long, fiery red trail in its wake.
"What is that?!" Rega's heartbeat quickened, and his eyes widened in shock.
The red meteor moved swiftly yet seemed to take forever, far larger than an ordinary star, like a small rising sun.
Standing slowly atop the dragon's back, Rega fixed his gaze on the meteor as it glided toward the horizon.
He had heard of meteors before—Truefire's blade was forged from meteorite iron.
But a blazing, fireball-like meteor of this magnitude was beyond his understanding.
"Hiss—Gah!"
The glutton lifted its head and roared, flapping its massive, pitch-black wings while spewing a torrent of eerie green dragon flames.
It could sense an almost imperceptible shift in the world's balance.
"Hiss—Gah..."
"Hiss—Gah..."
"..."
It wasn't just the glutton.
The severely wounded Silverwing, lying on the ground, also let out a roar, struggling to return to its nest.
Four dragons near Dragonstone Isle roared in succession, all gazing toward the red meteor.
At the same time, a dragon's cry echoed from Tidal Isle.
Waghar awoke from its slumber, its murky vertical pupils fixed on the meteor, letting out a deep, resonant roar.
Melias and Seasmoke emerged from their nests one after another, joining the chorus of dragon cries.
In the Dragonlord's Lair, the injured Korakshu, the Blizzard in the dragon pit...
At Thousand Faces Isle, the Gray Shadow, hidden among the mist, fishing in the sea...
Every dragon was stirred by the red meteor, roaring with varying emotions.
They all sensed that the once-familiar world had suddenly gained an unknown presence.
Back on the glutton's back...
Rega tilted his head back and closed his eyes, his face flushed as he took deep breaths.
He felt hot—hotter than he ever had, even in the throes of passion.
His blood surged faster, rushing into the palm of his right hand. Rega instinctively channeled his magic.
Sizzle!
Flames ignited in his palm, intensifying rapidly from a small flicker into a blazing inferno that consumed his sleeve.
Whoosh—
The fire flared and then condensed into a basin-sized blaze.
Rega's heart pounded in shock. His voice trembled with uncertainty.
"A magic tide...!"
His powerful magic reserves churned within him, and he could faintly sense a ripple, like a stone dropped into still water.
"Glutton, we're heading back to the castle!"
His mind swirled with questions, and all he wanted now was to return home and find his family.
"Hiss—Gah!"
The glutton let out a cry, abandoning its pursuit of Silverwing and soaring into the night sky.
Beneath the night sky...
"Hiss—Gah..."
An arrogant dragon roar echoed, accompanied by the thudding of its tail slamming into the ground.
"What's the rush? I'm working on it!"
A boy's reluctant shout rang out, filled with frustration.
Outside a small town on Dragonstone Isle, at a farmhouse raising livestock...
Inside a stone house, a family of three huddled behind an old wooden door, peering through the cracks at the scene outside.
A silver-haired boy, still in his teens, was running back and forth in a filthy, makeshift sheep pen, trying to herd a dozen goats.
At last, he grabbed a fat-bottomed goat, shoving its rear forward while muttering under his breath,
"Hurry up! Go sacrifice yourself and feed that damn dragon."
"Meh~~"
The goat let out a terrified bleat, jumping wildly in panic.
But the boy had a firm grip, and with brute force, he dragged the goat outside the courtyard wall.
"Hiss—Gah..."
A massive, ugly, mud-colored dragon loomed outside the yard, one enormous claw pressing against the dirt wall.
It spread its brown wings, rocking them side to side, seemingly quite pleased with its own grand posture.
After much effort, Edmund managed to haul the goat to the thieving dragon, shouting in frustration,
"Eat up, you thieving criminal!"
Stealing livestock right in front of its owner—what an utter disgrace to his family name!
"Hiss—Gah..."
The dragon cast him a disdainful glance, then exhaled a sputtering blast of brown dragon fire, instantly roasting the struggling goat into charcoal.
Its tail flicked aside the annoying silver-haired boy, then it lowered its head, slowly devouring the charred remains of the goat.
"Hiccup~~"
The thieving dragon let out a satisfied belch and lazily sprawled on the ground, its cunning vertical pupils locked onto Edmund.
Although the boy was slow at fetching food, the dragon appreciated the way he looked up at it in awe.
"This bastard!!"
Glaring at the smug dragon, Edmund clenched his fists in fury.
If not for this ugly, mud-colored beast abducting him, he'd already be on his way to taming Silverwing.
(End of chapter)