Central Earth, on the New Continent.
In the months David and his comrades pursued the Snail Shell Ship, the Emperor’s death—crushed by the ship’s tentacles—triggered a chain reaction. A chaotic war over the Vitali Empire’s territories had already descended into a quagmire.
Luwalden, the various nations of Central Earth, and even the neighboring Elven Kingdom to the north had all beco entangled in the conflict.
The High Elves’ actions, however, were more like those of an external balancing hand. Once the Vitali Empire showed signs of collapse, the High Elves continuously intervened by supplying resources, weapons, and even dispatching squads of freelance rcenaries to support the front lines.
They had clearly beco aware of the threat posed by the dragons.
Before Skanis on the Old Continent was fully subdued, they were unwilling to see a new power erge in southern Central Earth potent enough to threaten them.
The more chaotic the situation in Central Earth, the strategically safer the High Elves beca.
However, none of this concerned the dragons embroiled in the conflict.
After several dragon beasts, initially declared dead in combat, suddenly reappeared, the dragons began to suspect they could transcend death—a suspicion gradually confird by the True Dragons.
This dragon legion went from initially just going through the motions to tasting the sweetness of victory and prowling the peripheries of battle. Eventually, they transford into a band of ’unbridled wild horses,’ rampaging through the Vitali Empire’s territories and plundering everything in sight.
In the eyes of the empire’s people, they had beco a veritable Dragon Calamity.
Their reckless, unstoppable charges only ceased when they were ambushed by the Temple’s Priest Corps, halting like a tide crashing against a reef.
Now, as if anticipating sothing, the assembled dragons were as docile as a pack of stray cats scolded by the ’Street Fight King.’ They lay prostrate on the ground, paws tucked in, heads bowed, and eyes downcast. Then, from the temporary encampnt outside the city, only the signature roar of Lizrite, their Red Dragon leader, could be heard:
"Damn it! Where are the reinforcents Klinsmann promised for the front line? That bastard stood up again! Tell that little king, if this happens one more ti, he can pick which of his heads I’ll twist off."
Nearby, Alfonse the Black Dragon and Mofei the White Dragon, a pair of brothers in misfortune, nervously twitched their claws, trying to minimize their presence as they whispered to each other:
"Doesn’t it feel like Leader Lizrite’s temper has gotten even worse lately?"
"You’ve noticed too, huh? Think it’s... postpartum depression?"
Mofei was also taken aback. "But if I rember correctly, Octavia’s three hatchlings are almost juveniles, aren’t they? Can depression last *that* long?"
Alfonse clicked his tongue. "How would I know? I’ve never *been* a mother dragon. Besides, I doubt many male dragons give it much thought. Anyway, my own mother used to get periodically irritable. She’d ss with Viola and for no reason, calling it ’testing.’ What about yours?"
He received an angry glare from Mofei in response.
"What are you looking at for?!" Alfonse snapped, instantly annoyed.
"You know perfectly well I’m an orphan, raised without a Dragon Mother! Why bring that up deliberately? Itching for another taste of my claws, are you?"
"..." Only then did Alfonse rember: this fellow had been stolen as a Dragon Egg by the Drow and later fished out from the seabed. A true orphan.
Precisely because of this, he was repeatedly used as a stepping stone in the pecking order established by their siblings—those raised by the White Dragon Mother.
But who constantly rembers every detail of soone else’s background and their sore spots!
Still, he was unwilling to apologize over such a triviality, so he shot back insolently:
"So what if you’re an orphan! And so what if I ntioned it?!"
"ARGH! Eat my Frost Bite!" Mofei roared, arching his back, scales bristling as he prepared to pounce.
"Bring it on! Like I’m scared of you!" Alfonse reared up, baring his fangs and claws, trying to puff himself up to look larger than Mofei.
Even though he’d consistently been outmatched by this Ironhead Dragon, after all these years, he still refused to yield!
He had to prove to Kraidian, his ’Mom,’ that he, Alfonse, was the most outstanding of her children!
"Both of you, shut up!" Lizrite whirled around and roared, sparks flying from her snout.
"Urk..." The two troublemakers imdiately cowered, shrinking back with heads bowed.
Gods, what a pair of idiots. How could they possibly fight over *that*?
Nearby, Viola edged even further away from the two imbeciles, as if afraid their ’stupidity’ might be contagious.
At the sa ti, she knew perfectly well why Leader Lizrite was so irritable. It was simply because, during their last resupply at Port of Wallens, Lizrite had learned that David had actually visited the New Continent. He’d brought gifts for his daughter but had completely ignored Lizrite, not even sending a ssage to summon her. True, it was typical for male Chromatic Dragons to vanish after their mating frenzy. But David, a Red Dragon, had acted unusually, almost like a tal Dragon, even spending a great deal of ti at the Dragon Nest. Such blatant favoritism had naturally enraged Lizrite, a Red Dragon herself. With nowhere else to vent her fury, she could only unleash it twofold on the battlefield.
"Good thing I never threw myself at him," Viola muttered, coiling her tail.
Yet, every ti she returned to Port of Wallens and saw Nifadora and the others living in blissful, almost tal Dragon-like happiness, a voice like a Devil seed to whisper from the depths of her heart...
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