School Transmigration: I, Chosen as the Saint by Dragons at the Start Chapter 17: I am the Saint of Dragons

Three days passed quickly, and the atmosphere in the Darkveil village grew increasingly somber.

The surrounding environnt beca more desolate and silent, as if awaiting the arrival of death itself.

The trees withered, their branches sparse and leaves scarce.

When the wind blew, the rustling leaves sounded mournfully desolate.

The sky was overcast and gloomy, devoid of any trace of sunlight.

The whole world seed shrouded in darkness, as if the light would never return.

A thick air of sadness pervaded everywhere.

In the village, many of the tribespeople wept silently, their tears streaming down their faces without a sound.

Their eyes were filled with endless pain and despair, as if they had lost all hope for the future.

Owen's anger surged within him; the fate of the disadvantaged races shouldn't be like this, nor should the continent be like this.

In this desolate village, there was no joy of harvest, no celebration of festivals, no sweetness of love.

There was only endless toil, the hardships of life, and a longing for a better future.

However, this longing seed forever unattainable, as the fate of Darkveil was sealed.

It was dood to languish in this barren land, a constant target for the whims of interdiate races.

Owen's eyes glowed red, like the only source capable of piercing the darkness.

Footsteps approached from outside the village, accompanied by laughter that seed mocking to the village's plight.

Upon hearing the footsteps, terror crossed the faces of the Darkveil villagers.

They quickly hid their children in secret compartnts built inside their hos.

Aka stood at the entrance of his small yard, anxiously watching Owen in the center of the road.

He had learned from Nina that Owen would help them against the interdiate race.

Aka, fed up with the oppression, wanted to offer so assistance.

Owen declined, knowing Darkveil's help was minimal.

Without even a silver-tier fighter, how could they resist the Flakin?

Despite knowing their own weakness, Aka was willing to stand behind Owen, united against the outsiders.

This was Darkveil's only savior!

Their only chance!

It was a matter of life or death!

The footsteps drew nearer, belonging to three individuals.

Owen could now see their faces clearly.

They were all around two ters tall, muscular and robust, exuding a sense of imnse strength.

Their skin was a deep red, like roaring flas, radiating intense heat.

The three individuals had hair resembling flas in color and form, orange and red, long and curly, fluttering in the wind like dancing fire.

Their eyes were like gems glinting with a red light, akin to two brilliant pearls in the heart of a fire, filled with wildness and fervor.

Their facial features were also distinctive: eyebrows arched upwards like flas, exuding fierceness; their noses and mouths had a sharp, angular appearance, like the sharp points of a fla; their ears were pointed, resembling small whirlpools within the fire.

The leader narrowed his eyes at Owen, who clearly wasn't a Darkveil villager: "Who are you?"

Owen's lips curled slightly, revealing sharp, white teeth: "This village, from today on... is under my protection."

"Hmph, just a tender-skinned human, seeking death!" one of the two-ter-tall red-skinned individuals bellowed.

With that, the battle was imminent.

Owen imdiately displayed his astonishing speed and strength.

He moved like a streak of golden lightning among the Flakin warriors, his claws tracing icy arcs in the air.

Each strike brought a burst of cold, overwhelming the Flakin warriors, leaving them gasping for breath.

As a Gold dragon, inheriting the characteristics of various dragons, Owen naturally used the power of the Ice Dragon branch against the Flakin.

"How arrogant," one of the Flakin reacted, sneering, "Let's see if you have the strength to back up those words!"

The three were no ordinary foes, summoning fla spears in their hands.

Each Flakin warrior wielded their fiery weapon, fighting back fiercely.

The flas intensified under their assault, as if to reduce Owen to ashes.

For a mont, Owen found himself in a challenging one-against-three situation.

However, Owen, with his powerful ice energy, staunchly resisted the Flakin's attacks.

In the blink of an eye, they had exchanged dozens of blows.

Owen, undaunted, suddenly leapt up, transforming into a massive golden dragon in midair.

Circling above, Owen opened his fearso maw and unleashed a burst of icy dragon breath, instantly freezing one of the Flakin warriors into a block of ice.

It was the skill of the Ice Dragon - Frost Breath.

The remaining two Flakin, their pupils shrinking in shock, felt their flas falter for a second: "You... you're a dragon? Why didn't you say so earlier!"

Owen bared his fangs, letting out a dragon's roar at the remaining Flakin, "Words are wasted on your kind."

Then, swinging his sharp claws, he launched a ferocious attack on the other two Flakin warriors.

His claws, like blades, whipped up a whirlwind with every strike.

Agilely rolling in the air, he dodged the Flakin warriors' spear thrusts.

Then, with a swift movent, he extended his claws and viciously grabbed one of the Flakin warriors.

The Flakin warrior tried to defend with his fla spear, but Owen's claws, hard as steel, easily tore through it.

His claws continued forward, ripping into the Flakin warrior's body, tearing him apart.

The last remaining Flakin warrior, sensing danger, imdiately summoned a surge of fiery energy, enveloping himself in it.

Nourished by this fiery force, his body beca even more powerful and ferocious.

"We Flakin have always been on good terms with the dragon race. If you kill , this will escalate into a major conflict!"

Hearing this, Owen's draconic maw split wide open: "What are you to dictate my actions?"

"If you beco an enemy of the Flakin, our elders may punish you. I advise you not to take this too far. You won't withstand the punishnt from your own elders," the Flakin, spear in hand and fear in his eyes, cautioned Owen.

Dragons, being invincible within their realm as an advanced race, were formidable, and Owen appeared unfathomably powerful.

Owen flicked his dragon tail, making the ground tremble: "Punished by my elders? I doubt they have the authority to do so..."

The Flakin gasped, "Could it be... you are a Sinister Dragon?"

(Sinister Dragon: Dragons not governed by their kind, corrupted by dark magic.)

Owen scoffed, "Sinister Dragon? I am the saint of dragons!"

"What?"

The last Flakin widened his eyes in shock, montarily forgetting to attack.

Owen let out a fearso dragon's roar, "Thus, those who dare offend my domain, only face death!"

"No, no, no, I don't want to die... Even if you kill , even if you are the saint of dragons, I will bite a chunk from you!"

The last Flakin, eyes wide with a desire for life, flas blazing more fiercely on his body, wielded his fla spear for a final charge at Owen.

Owen, seeing his fierce opponent, did not dare to be careless.

He gathered a powerful icy energy, infusing it into his claws.

Instantly, his claws beca as hard as diamonds, shimring with dazzling light.

As the Flakin warrior charged at Owen, Owen thrust out his claws.

A burst of icy energy surged from his claws, striking the Flakin warrior directly.

Beneath the thick layer of frost, the Flakin warrior's body was instantly frozen, transford into a statue of ice.

Owen slightly shook his body, landing on the ground, transforming back from his dragon form to human.

He contemplated the battle that had just unfolded.

The three Flakin were of the gold-tier, not particularly strong, which allowed him to resolve the fight with ease.

But how to solve Darkveil's troubles?

Standing before the corpses of the Flakin, Owen exuded a powerful aura, as if a deity had descended to the mortal realm.

His hands still bore the fresh blood of the Flakin.

The villagers of Darkveil gathered around him, their faces etched with shock and joy.

So even cried out in excitent: "The honored guest is of the dragon race, an advanced race!"

Tears slid from the corners of so eyes as they clutched their fists to their chests:

"The scum of the Flakin are finally dead, do you see this, my people?"

"We can finally be free from the threat of the Flakin!"