The adult white dragon and the prime-aged white dragon both looked warily at Garon.
In their eyes, this seemingly gigantic silver dragon that appeared suddenly exuded an aura that was not to be trifled with.
The four majestic horns and the scales shimmering under the moonlight, along with a robust body, made them feel somewhat inferior.
In the aesthetic of dragons, Garon was excessively handsome, which was why even the silver dragon Luna was mesmerized by him, for such a beautiful dragon was exceedingly rare.
Besides his appearance, the aura of ages interwoven with his presence made Garon distinctly different from ordinary true dragons, easily leaving a deep impression on others.
"Who are you, to appear here so suddenly? Are you coveting my treasure?" the prime-aged white dragon said, clutching its treasure more tightly and glaring at Garon with suspicion.
Garon's expression remained unchanged, his voice even more serene as he replied, "Who am I?"
"I am the lord of the territory you just visited."
After awakening this time, Garon had become more detached towards many things. There weren't many things that he valued anymore, but his treasure was undeniably always a matter of utmost importance.
Any dragon, even the universally acknowledged kindest silver dragons, would make thieves pay a price.
Legendary dragons were no exception, and so were the dragon gods.
The importance of their own treasure was an instinct carved into their souls.
"You silver dragons are just a bunch of hypocrites, claiming to be kind in front of other creatures while intending to engage in thievery, spouting nonsense."
"Your territory? That place is clearly Sulia's territory!"
Although not much smaller in size, the prime-aged white dragon didn't feel fear, thinking that Garon had merely encountered them by chance and was now trying to seize the treasure it had just obtained.
Garon did not bother to argue or explain further in response to the prime-aged white dragon's words.
His patience had worn thin after a mere couple of sentences.
Muttering a spell, he conjured two bursting fireballs, their surfaces cracked and glowing with a blinding red light, rapidly materializing in front of him as the surrounding air temperature rose sharply.
The two fist-sized fireballs were aimed at each white dragon.
Feeling the intense heat from the fireballs, both dragons' expressions changed drastically.
As white dragons, they were most vulnerable to fire-based magic, which could inflict double damage on them.
Yet, being silver dragons who also belonged to the cold-type, they were puzzled why Garon would use fire-based magic.
At the same time, the adult white dragon did not wish to antagonize Garon, especially since it no longer had any treasure on it.
"I didn't take your things, this has nothing to do with me, it was all Holmes's idea," it quickly tried to dissociate itself from the situation, having a bad premonition.
Garon's face remained impassive, ignoring the white dragon, his mental focus still locked on both dragons.
The power of time rippled like water, speeding up the fireballs.
Meanwhile, Garon cast a slow spell on the dragons, altering the flow of time around them, significantly slowing them down.
The strong aspect of the slow spell was that it could directly affect anything within his line of sight.
Since it directly affected the flow of time, creatures below the level of legends had no way to anticipate it, and even for those above, it was not easy to counter.
Unaware of what was happening, the two white dragons were shocked to see the blizzard outside their field of view suddenly accelerate.
To a creature hit by the slow spell, it would initially not feel affected; instead, it would perceive the outside world as having sped up.
The fireballs, now blurs in their perception, moved across hundreds of meters almost instantaneously, smashing into their heads before they could react.
Their vigilance was futile.
Boom! A violent explosion sent both white dragons flying.
The bursting flames enveloped them, turning them into two raging torches that lit up the night sky.
Even though the fireballs were fourth-ring spells and not typically powerful enough to severely injure adult dragons, especially since they lacked resistance to fire magic, this was not absolute.
Direct hits to the head, with no chance to dodge, meant the dragons were overwhelmed instantly, their bodies plummeting from the sky as treasures scattered like rain from the clutches of the prime-aged white dragon.
The simple application of acceleration and deceleration, coupled with elemental susceptibility, allowed the fireballs to severely injure the adult white dragons.
The prime-aged white dragon, stronger physically, still retained some ability to move, struggling in the flames to stabilize itself as it emitted bursts of cold air to mitigate the burns.
Garon, expressionless, granted it another fireball.
This strike completely robbed the prime-aged white dragon of its ability to resist, losing control over its body as it crashed to the ground.
Garon watched the two balls of fire plummet to the earth and, unhurried, flew towards them.
Dealing with two white dragons, even with one as sizable as the prime-aged white dragon, was a simple matter for Garon now; his mastery of time was too overpowering for them to have any means of resistance.
Thud! Thud!
Both dragons landed almost simultaneously, creating a deep crater with spiderweb-like cracks spreading out around it.
As the fire, born of magical energy, gradually exhausted its power and dimmed, revealing two 'red dragons.'
Originally adorned with white scales, the dragons now appeared extremely pitiful, the armor on their heads blown off to expose charred, blurry flesh, while other areas were scorched bright red.
The remaining heat in their scales met the cold air of the far north, emitting billows of white smoke.
Their injuries were severe, and both dragons had fallen into a brief coma.
However, the life force of a true adult dragon was immensely robust; without further attacks, these wounds wouldn't claim their lives.
Garon approached the crater, looking down at the two severely injured, unconscious white dragons, contemplating how to deal with them.
Kill them? The theft had greatly displeased Garon.
Yet, he was not bloodthirsty, and killing them would not significantly benefit him; it wouldn't even serve as a warning to other dragons.
It was not as if he could gather a crowd of dragons to witness him executing these two as a deterrent.
Furthermore, he had no interest in tasting dragon meat.
Compared to killing them, he had a better idea.
"If dragons think to steal from me again in the future, I won't always be able to arrive in time like this."
His kin, although not weak, had no means to stop true dragons determined merely to steal and flee. Without Garon present, it was virtually impossible to detain such dragons.
"It seems I also need true dragons to guard my lair."
Garon stroked his horns, thoughtful.
The sensation was quite pleasing, and he had grown fond of touching his horns while thinking.
It was common for older dragons to secure their treasures by employing younger true dragons as lair guardians.
Since Garon couldn't always stay in his lair to prevent similar incidents, he decided to follow the old dragons' example and have other true dragons guard his treasures.
As for who would serve this role, the candidates were now right before him.
Taking their wealth and then stripping them of their freedom to guard his treasures would serve as an apt punishment for their theft.