"Great Dragon Lord, are you considering how to deal with the ordinary ogre warriors?" Ugga Smashbone asked. Even among his kind, Ugga possessed intelligence not inferior to an average human, far surpassing that of the typical ogre. Sensing Garon's intentions, he guessed the dragon's plan.
For Ugga, the past few days had been like a dream. He had foolishly provoked a real dragon, nearly facing a grim fate within a dragon's belly, only to find that the dragon did not kill him. Instead, Garon astonishingly learned the Giant language in just a few days and offered him a chance to replace the two-headed ogre.
Eager to become the chief, Ugga would not miss such an opportunity. Moreover, submitting to a real dragon, even a juvenile one, was not a dishonorable thing to do.
Garon nodded calmly, observing Ugga's hesitant demeanor. "Speak your mind," he commanded, having recognized Ugga's intelligence and not underestimating him.
Ugga, delighted by the recognition, confidently thumped his chest and said, "Ugga knows Sela's habits and preferences; I can lure him away from the tribe."
"All the ogres of the Smashbone Tribe will become your loyal servants if you, Great Dragon Lord, can kill Sela."
Garon looked at Ugga, impressed by his cunning. To achieve leadership, he was willing to hand over his entire tribe to a dragon.
"If that two-headed ogre knew what kind of traitor was in his tribe..."
Garon shook his head, sparing a moment of silence for the two-headed ogre.
After further inquiry about the two-headed ogre and receiving directions to the Smashbone Tribe from Ugga, Garon told him to stay in the Ice River territory and not wander off. Then, with a flap of his wings, he disappeared into the vast night sky.
From above, Garon glanced back at the Ice River territory, now a mere speck, then shifted his focus toward the Smashbone Tribe.
He had not placed any restrictive spells on Ugga—Garon did not yet know magic and had only verbally instructed Ugga to stay. This was a test to see if the ogre truly intended to use Garon's power to become the tribe's chief.
If Ugga proved intelligent enough, Garon would see him still waiting upon his return. Otherwise, Garon would have to consider destroying the Smashbone Tribe rather than subjugating it.
Sighing in the high-altitude cold wind, Garon mused on the dragon's remarkable stamina. Adult dragons could fly at full speed for days without magical aid, and if they controlled their speed, they could remain airborne continuously for weeks. Utilizing high-altitude air currents for effortless gliding, they could theoretically fly for a year without landing, so long as they didn't mind the monotony.
This incredible endurance stemmed from the dragon's powerful heart, which featured four massive chambers constantly pumping blood, providing unending power to the dragon's body. Researchers who studied dragons even suggested that placing a hard rock inside an ancient dragon's heart would pulverize it into dust with a single beat.
With his ten-meter wingspan fully extended, Garon glided through the air, conserving energy. Although not as fast as he could be, this method was safer and Garon wasn't in a hurry.
Due to the unique polar night environment of the Far North Ice Plains, it was hard to discern time, but Garon's keen sense of time and space kept him from misjudging.
Glancing downward, he noticed a peculiar small depression in the basin of the ice plains. The bowl-shaped depression was dotted with small, chaotic black spots—rudimentary huts built haphazardly from stone, and muscular ogres gathered around large iron pots boiling thick yellow broth with visible chunks of indeterminate ice plain beasts—an unsettling sight.
Ogres, though named as such, didn't exclusively eat humanoids. They consumed any creature weaker than themselves that they could hunt, and some ogres in remote forests might never taste humanoid flesh in their lifetimes.
In the center of the Smashbone Tribe, in a larger stone hut covered with animal skins and looking somewhat distinguished, a three-meter tall ogre was praying devoutly to a spherical black wooden sculpture, murmuring prayers. The dark, coarse skin, characteristic black sclera, and white pupils were typical of ogres, but uniquely, this one had two heads—one larger, one smaller—both bowing in prayer.
Suddenly, as if sensing something, the two-headed ogre's eyes snapped open. The larger head's eyes, more intelligent than the smaller's, grabbed a long staff and a blood-stained giant hammer from inside the hut and strode out, looking around suspiciously.
Finding nothing unusual, it looked up at the night sky, seeing only faint clouds and stars.
"What are you looking at, chief?"
"Is there food
in the sky?"
Another ogre came over, imitating the chief's actions and looking up curiously, finding nothing and asking oddly.
The two-headed ogre's blue eyes continued scanning the sky for a few more minutes before it shook its heads and returned inside, resuming its prayers.
As the two-headed ogre prayed, unseen black mist-like tendrils stretched from the sculpture, touching the ogre's body. Each touch caused the ogre's body to shudder slightly, its expression of devotion deepening.
High above, Garon was enveloped in a dim mist that blended seamlessly with the night, observing the two-headed ogre's actions. His heart tightened.
"This two-headed ogre is not weak; from such a distance, it almost sensed me."
Had it not been for the mist technique, a spell-like ability Garon had acquired after his last awakening, he might have been exposed.