POV ???:
The wyrm lay curled up on a pile of bronze, silver, and occasional golden coins. Its smooth, red scales gleamed in the light of fire from the flames burning from its nostrils with each breath.
The fire of its breath was the only source of light within the dark and massive cave, with long stalactites hanging from the tall ceiling.
'Phhh? A dragon lord? As if I, the great wyrm, should care.' The elder wyrm, Galakron, couldn't help but feel ridicule at the arrogance of the newly risen dragon lord.
'How pathetic, they didn't even bother to come here personally. Instead, they sent their minions, hoping for me to jump on their bandwagon. They are nothing but overzealous youngster just using their authority to get their way.'
The wyrm felt nothing but disdain at the dragon that used words, feeling like they were just a weakling unfit for their position.
