The night was silent, and after nearly a month of sporadic light snow, large snowflakes accompanied by howling cold winds descended from the sky, reducing visibility to barely a meter where distinguishing between human and animal became challenging.
In such weather, most creatures of the northern ice plains chose to stay in their dens, venturing out only when the snowstorm lessened.
Only those whose stored heat was nearly depleted and who were driven by hunger would dare to leave their dens in such harsh conditions.
In a particular spot along a winding ice river, where the river usually flowed gently, a thick layer of ice had now formed due to the sudden drop in temperature, thick enough to support the weight of several-ton fear lizards running across it.
Nearby, a cluster of simple buildings stood, where the majority of the polar ice spirits, visibly delighted, frolicked back and forth in the storm.
For them, this weather was preferable; the abundant gathered water elements nourished their ice-crystal bodies, making the polar ice spirits stronger. Their unique visual perception could penetrate the storm's obstacles, turning the blizzard into an advantage.
Next to the dwellings of the polar ice spirits, simple shelters were constructed for the fear lizards and white hounds to reside in.
The white hounds, being ice-magic creatures, were not bothered by the low temperatures. However, the fear lizards, being fire-elemental, had power coursing with fire elements within them and were lethargic and energy-less in such weather.
Fortunately, since their lord was in slumber, there was no need to form hunting parties and venture out.
Two days later, in the tranquil ice river territory, all the polar ice spirits enjoying the chilly weather suddenly stiffened. Simultaneously, they turned their heads, looking towards a specific segment of the frozen river, their faces expressing awe.
The drowsy fear lizards opened their eyes in confusion, and the white hounds barked excitedly.
Inside the dragon lair, a giant beast covered in pure ice armor twitched slightly, its eyelids trembling as they slowly opened to reveal dazzling platinum dragon pupils. An overwhelming dragon's presence burst forth from the white giant, sweeping through the space like a hurricane. All creatures enveloped by this dragon's presence became rigid, momentarily unable to move.
After a month of deep slumber, Garon had awakened.
He shook his head to clear the last vestiges of drowsiness.
With a clear gaze, he surveyed his surroundings.
The dragon lair, which used to feel spacious, now seemed much smaller, as if it had shrunk, making it feel cramped. Garon felt that standing up might cause him to touch the icy ceiling.
It wasn't that the lair had gotten smaller.
He had gotten bigger.
Using the ice crystal reflections on the walls of the lair, Garon saw his current form.
His body was covered in mirror-like pure white scales, his neck encircled with mysterious black scales, sharp and formidable dragon claws, wide muscular wings, and four curved horns extending backward from his head.
Horns?
Garon paused for a moment, realizing the discrepancy.
His appearance hadn't changed much, just that his scales had become more pronounced, and many spiky keratinous protrusions had appeared on his face mask and limbs. But the most significant change was the growth of horns on his head.
Garon lifted a claw to touch the horns, a look of satisfaction appearing on his face.
Though he was a dragon, what had always made Garon feel incomplete was his lack of horns.
Not just him, but also his dragon siblings and the White Dragon Mother lacked horns, as white dragons typically do not have them.
At that moment, two robust and imposing white horns extended backward from the position of his eyebrows, and two smaller ones closely followed, all coiling back to form a majestic appearance.
At the same time, Garon assessed his current size.
He was astonished to find that his size had jumped from eight meters to twelve meters in one sleep, propelling him into the category of large dragons.
Dragon sizes are clearly categorized: six to ten meters is considered medium, ten to eighteen meters large, and eighteen to thirty meters extra-large.
The White Dragon Mother was sixteen meters long, placing her and Garon within the range of large dragons. Only in her youth could she grow to be a large dragon.
Because white dragons are weaker, the White Dragon Mother could not become an extra-large true dragon before reaching full maturity.
Unbeknownst to himself, Garon had grown into a large dragon that would have terrified his younger self.
He blinked, feeling the surge of power within him, thinking he could now match the White Dragon Mother in strength.
Though his body was still smaller than the White Dragon Mother's, just by leveraging his accelerated state, he could make it so she couldn't even touch his tail. Speed truly made one nearly untouchable.
The White Dragon Mother, not yet mature
, had limited spell-like abilities and relied on her large dragon body, breath, and imposing presence in combat.
She seemed somewhat weak, but in reality, that was just how pure white dragons were. As the weakest of the chromatic dragons, even as adults, they weren't very strong.
With this in mind, Garon harbored some wicked thoughts.
To describe it appropriately, "You ignored me yesterday, today you can't reach me."
Thinking of the treasures accumulated by the White Dragon Mother, Garon's mind raced with plans.
A sense of vengeful satisfaction oddly rose within him. He remembered being mercilessly driven away by the White Dragon Mother.
"I should confront the White Dragon Mother directly."
"If she is no match for me, I'll take half—no, sixty percent of her treasure."
After all, under her protection for over a year, Garon had survived his weakest period. He remembered this kindness, so he decided not to be too ruthless—if he could defeat her, he would only take sixty percent.
The remaining forty percent would be his way of repaying her for her protection.
If he were a true evil dragon, he would take all her treasure without hesitation, even if she were the dragon mother.
Setting aside the plan to take the White Dragon Mother's treasure for now, Garon focused on himself.
"This sleep seems to have been a significant boost."
"Could it be that I've passed the wyrmling stage and become a young dragon?"
Even in slumber, Garon was acutely aware of the passage of time.
He knew only a month had passed, and he was still not quite two years old by real-time standards, which would still make him a wyrmling.
However, Garon was unclear about the exact flow of time affecting him.
Calculating his age based on real-time seemed somewhat incorrect.
Not to mention, during his accelerated state, he experienced more time than other creatures.
The accelerated state wasn't just about increasing agility; it genuinely accelerated the flow of time around him.
Shaking his head, Garon decided not to ponder his age any further; he would continue to calculate his dragon age based on real time.