As the battle tipped decisively in their favor and with the death of their general, the resilient army finally crumbled. Some began to flee, no longer standing their ground to fight to the death.
Garon paid little attention to those scattering few; his kin were already in pursuit. On the vast northern ice plains, humans unaccustomed to such environments found it nearly impossible to escape the native creatures.
At that moment, he turned his gaze to the last of the humans who were still stubbornly resisting.
Koborfield, along with a few armored knights and casters who had gathered around him, were heavily surrounded. Their numbers were rapidly dwindling, but under Koborfield's protective spells, they wouldn't all die immediately.
Garon pocketed the weapon of Murphy, the magic greatsword capable of easily slicing through dragon scales, then with a flap of his wings, he soared upwards, pushing through the wind and snow, flying toward Koborfield's position.
The White Dragon Mother was playing cruel games with some isolated enemies, snatching them up into the air and then dropping them to their deaths, enjoying herself immensely.
Garon did not share her vile pleasures.
However, he did not stop the White Dragon Mother either; if that was what she enjoyed, so be it—it was in her nature.
If she were smart enough, she should have attacked Koborfield first, kill him, and then rightfully claim the spoils of a mid-tier mage.
The White Dragon Mother was closer to Koborfield, and if she realized this, she could beat Garon to it.
On the other hand, when the old mage saw Garon flying towards him, a look of defiance and despair appeared on his face.
If it hadn't been for the initial damage from the explosive fireballs, he could have played a greater role in this battle. But it was too late for regrets now. Koborfield bit his lip, suppressing the emotions of regret and the physical pain, his face pale as he muttered spells.
Quickly, elemental energy gathered, forming several iron-like chains that rapidly coiled around Garon's limbs, the other ends anchoring deeply into the ground.
Fourth Circle Protective Spell, Earthbinding Chains.
This spell was extremely fast, and even with Garon's speed and reactions, he couldn't dodge it in time.
Once the iron chains wrapped around his limbs, a pulling force restricted Garon's movements.
At the same time, Koborfield tore open a spell scroll, and a vibrating stance pushed away the surrounding kin army. He bellowed, "Run!"
Those around him did not hesitate; taking advantage of the kin army being knocked down, they quickly dispersed in all directions, each employing their methods to flee the battlefield.
Garon shook his head and tugged hard with his claws.
"Last-ditch struggle."
Crack, crack, crack—the grating sound of metal twisting filled the air as the chains around him stretched and snapped, turning into dissipating elemental energy lost in the wind and snow.
"Tell me, why have you come here?" Garon spoke in the common tongue, his voice deep.
Surprised by the white dragon speaking, Koborfield momentarily stunned, then sneered, "Want to know? Go to hell and ask Tiamat!"
"Despicable, shameful dragon, one day you will completely disappear from the continent of Noah!"
Several explosive runes shot out from in front of Koborfield towards Garon, who simply swiped them away with a claw, unharmed, his defensive power much higher than that of the Frost Tiger.
Garon's expression remained unchanged, no longer wasting words with his opponent.
He slightly opened his dragon mouth, revealing his sharply interlaced dragon teeth, and lowered his head towards Koborfield.
There was no brewing of icy blue dragon breath, but Koborfield's instinctive reaction sensed extreme danger. He knew the danger came from Garon but did not know what it specifically was.
"Dragon breath?" Koborfield looked around, watching the ferocious White Dragon, the brutal ogres, the beast-like Frost Tiger, and took a deep breath, numbly constructing spells.
Waves of tangible blue aura appeared, wrapping around his body like enclosing Koborfield in a blue, transparent crystal.
Blue Crystal Aura, a spell specifically to defend against white dragon breath.
Then, an invisible, intangible breath of Time Plunder exhaled from Garon's mouth.
Midway, the snowflakes touched by the Breath of Time Plunder melted instantly, as if they had never existed, leaving a hollow trace in the air.
Such a visual stunned Koborfield, unsettling him.
In an instant, the Breath of Time Plunder enveloped Koborfield, who had his protective spells active. The blue crystal aura did not function as intended, penetrated directly by the invisible Breath of Time Plunder.
Dense wrinkles bloomed on Koborfield's face, his once lustrous skin rapidly
dulling and slackening, turning white-haired in a moment.
Realizing the transformation of his body, Koborfield's face filled with terror.
But soon, he couldn't even muster a frightened response.
Magic power drained, bodily functions declined, mind muddled. Seconds later, the light of wisdom in his eyes, characteristic of a caster, dimmed.
The effect of the Breath of Time Plunder, being particularly lethal to older creatures, posed a lesser threat to long-lived beings like dragons or elves.
As magical power drained away in the Breath of Time Plunder, Koborfield's withered, aged body lost magical protection and was exposed to the blizzard.
The biting cold wind struck his face, blowing fiercely once, scattering his already fragile life force.
Thump!
His aged body fell silently into the snow, like a piece of dry wood.
Garon withdrew his gaze, took the still intact magical items from Koborfield's body, gave them a cursory look, and stored them away.
Then, he turned to the other fleeing humans.
Garon's kin were in pursuit, rapidly reducing their numbers.
Meanwhile, having tired of her aerial game, the White Dragon Mother flew to Garon's side, glancing at his relatively unharmed body, she huffed, "Garon, I request a change in the distribution of the spoils."
Garon turned to look at the White Dragon Mother.
Compared to Garon, the White Dragon Mother was covered in wounds, many scales shattered, and dried blood by her side, looking somewhat ragged.
These injuries were mainly because she attracted too much firepower initially, targeted by concentrated attacks. After Murphy confronted Garon, she sustained fewer injuries.
"How do you want to change it?" Garon inquired.
The White Dragon Mother tilted her head, pondering, then pointing to her many wounds, said, "Look at me, then look at you."
She paused, then with a blend of plaintiveness and threat, added, "I was severely injured, nearly died. If you don't give me enough spoils, then I will..."
Garon's eyes narrowed, "You will what?"