The setting sun cast a fiery glow across the sky.
The flame-like crimson of the sunset illuminated the clouds, making them look like a fiery sea in the sky. Amidst this sea of flames, two legendary dragons swiftly navigated through the clouds.
Garon, gazing ahead with a broad vision mirroring his expansive mood, used his body as an axis to rotate and soar through the sky. He faced the howling, fierce wind, his massive body tearing through the clouds and leaving a long trail in the sky.
Beside Garon, Muria maintained a similar high speed, invisible to ordinary creatures. Only the trail she left in the sky was visible, slightly broader than Garon's due to her larger size.
After the blockade of the planar space ended, Garon could have used teleportation magic to reach the far northern ice plains directly. However, since the initial part of their journey with Muria involved accelerating to high speeds and experiencing the thrill of it, they chose to return at high speed instead of using teleportation.
With their backs to the setting sun, the landscapes in the dragons' view rapidly receded, creating a spectacle of diverse, flowing lights.
Thanks to their high speed, before the sun completely set below the horizon, the dragons had already reached the airspace above the far northern ice plains.
When other places fell into night, covered in starlight and moonlight, the far northern ice plains, under the midnight sun, remained a bright and pure white world, with snowflakes drifting and cold winds howling, covered in a blanket of snow.
Garon looked down, scanning the snowy landscape of the far northern ice plains. Thanks to his broad view from the high altitude, he could easily observe the scenes below.
Terrifyingly mutated creatures occasionally entered his view. "These creatures, contaminated by the Primordial Sun God, remain mutated even though His avatar has been destroyed. They cannot revert to their original forms," Garon slightly frowned.
Apart from the ice plains, on their way back, he observed these unchanged mutated creatures in other regions as well. They were numerous, scattered across the land like irritating black dots.
After the dark light covering the world disappeared, these creatures, loathing other forms of light, instinctively hid in dark corners, struggling to survive.
"These mutated creatures, fundamentally weak and without resistance to darkness, are not difficult to clean up," Garon thought.
For example, in the far northern ice plains, the creatures mainly affected by the Primordial Sun God were low-level beings like white hounds, terror lizards, and ice snakes. Higher-level creatures like the northern berserker bears and winter wolves were almost unaffected.
It didn't seem too severe. However, that was because the darkness enveloped the world for a short time. From the moment the dark light seal was activated and the avatar of the wasteland god descended, the dragons of Noah's Continent immediately went into battle. In less than a day, the powerful god-like legendary dragons defeated him.
Had the avatar of the wasteland god been delayed, the world might have already become a paradise for mutated creatures.
Most creatures on Noah's Continent are weak and easily influenced. Even in just one day, countless creatures mutated. Regardless of their previous nature, they became fierce and chaotic monsters after mutation, posing a deadly threat to surrounding normal life.
"Those creatures look so ugly, and there are so many of them," Muria commented with disgust as she also looked down at the ice plains, observing the mutated creatures scattered across the snowy landscape. In this world of white, the black, light-wrapped mutated creatures were particularly jarring.
Garon, seeing his far northern ice plains contaminated, felt an increased hostility towards the Primordial Sun God. The avatar killed by the ancient power dragon was just that – an avatar. The real entity was still at large, possibly corrupting other material worlds with its darkness.
"I'll have my followers clear these eyesores immediately," Garon responded.
The mutated creatures were numerous but weak, and he didn't bother to deal with them personally. He could leave it to his increasingly powerful followers.
"Hmph, I hope the gods of light and the dragon gods give that abominable wasteland god a good lesson," Muria huffed. "Better to just kill him, to prevent further harm to other worlds."
As a dragon, Muria, like Garon, held grudges. In Noah's Continent, there were many examples of dragons remembering those who harmed them in their youth, relentlessly pursuing them once they gained strength.
To attack a dragon, one must be absolutely sure of success, leaving no chance for the dragon to escape. Otherwise, one would live in fear of the dragon's vengeance.
"The likelihood of killing a wasteland god is slim," Garon shook his head. While he and Muria hoped for the god's downfall in a united assault by the gods, actually achieving this was unlikely. If it were easy, such a threatening entity as the Primordial Sun God wouldn't have survived until now.
However, with the gods' determined attitudes, they could at least severely wound the Primordial Sun God, forcing him into hiding for a considerable time.
Minutes later, Garon saw the Immortal Fortress standing silently atop a cliff in the blizzard. On its outer walls, he saw the White Dragoness, eagerly looking in the direction he had left. She hadn't entered the fortress, staying outside where light snow had accumulated on her white scales.
Around the Immortal Fortress, protective nets of ice spikes were filled with the corpses of mutated creatures, forming a dark, filthy stain on the landscape, the thin snow unable to cover them completely.
Barton, clad in winter armor and wielding a massive axe, patrolled with his powerful followers – winter wolves, ogres, trolls – below the cliff. Two white dragons circled above, vigilantly watching in all directions.
The White Dragoness's vision wasn't as sharp as Garon's. When he saw her, she had yet to spot him, still eagerly looking around, worry visible on her armored face.
"She still has some conscience, not entirely heartless," Garon thought to himself.
Then, as he approached, the White Dragoness's eyes brightened, her gaze lifting to the sky. She sensed a familiar draconic aura.
The majestic aura of a legendary dragon approached. In the sky, a silver dragon with four horns raced at incredible speed, tearing through the thick clouds behind him.
His followers paused, looking up and chanting fervently in the presence of his draconic might. The diverse voices of different species joined into a roaring wave of sound that rapidly spread into the distance.
The silver dragon didn't slow down, his huge body descending like a meteor, bringing an overwhelming sense of terror. His figure rapidly enlarged in the eyes of the White Dragoness and the fortress guards.
Just meters from the fortress's dome, Garon abruptly flapped his wings.
Boom! A deafening sonic boom rang out.
The air exploded around him, creating a ring-shaped shockwave. Some ogres on the walls staggered, nearly losing their balance under the immense pressure of his sudden stop.
Garon liked to stand at high vantage points, so a platform had been specially built on the fortress's dome for his landing. He settled on it, narrowing his eyes as he surveyed his domain, leaving no stone unturned.
During his absence, none of his valued followers in the Ice Cliff domain had perished. The mutated creatures of the far northern ice plains posed no threat to Garon's core followers, who were much stronger than ordinary creatures. Moreover, with Barton, the White Dragon guards, and two high-level spellcasters stationed here, Garon's domain and treasures were very secure.
"Garon, you're back safe and sound. That's great," the White Dragoness exclaimed upon seeing him unharmed, immediately relaxing.
Her tone was a bit excited, but upon realizing her overeagerness, she quickly resumed her usual demeanor, raising her neck like a swan, her face filled with pride.
"The darkness has receded, Lord. It seems the invading god of Noah's Continent has been dealt with," Krichens and Fred bowed slightly and spoke. They were not fully aware of the situation and thought the invader was a mere evil god, not a wasteland god.
Garon didn't bother to correct them, simply nodding. "It took some effort, but we ultimately defeated him."
Although the battle with the wasteland god's avatar was fought by the golden dragon and the ancient power dragon, Garon and Muria, merely spectators, had indeed exerted themselves traveling between the Dragon Tomb Sea and the far northern ice plains. Garon's statement wasn't entirely false and was said with confidence.
"You must have played a crucial role in defeating the evil god," Krichens and Fred commented, aware of the situation on Noah's Continent. This small world lacked top-tier forces. Without the intervention of other godly avatars, relying solely on Noah's Continent's native forces, it would have been a miracle not to be rapidly overwhelmed, let alone resolve the situation so quickly.
"All creatures who survived the darkness will remember your grace," they added.
Garon nodded at their praise, then turned to the air beside him, where Muria, still invisible, had landed. She showed no intention of communicating with the others.
Meanwhile, the White Dragoness approached. Since the Dragon Tomb was first invaded and she received the dragon pact, she was particularly concerned about the matter and inquired about it. Garon, looking at her, answered briefly.
"Not bad, a descendant of my bloodline," the White Dragoness laughed heartily, bursting with pride as if she had personally crushed the wasteland god's avatar in the Dragon Tomb Sea.
At the same time, Garon's three dragon siblings, sensing his presence, flew out from the fortress. "Garon, it's great to see you're alright," the young dragons greeted him, their attitudes obedient and their faces joyful. Under Garon's protection, they lived far better than before, so their happiness at his safe return was genuine.
Garon, indifferent to the increasingly subservient young dragons, simply nodded calmly.
The White Dragoness glanced at Garon's majestic body, then at the much smaller young dragons, her face suddenly turning cold. She hummed sharply, her gaze sharp. "Hil, Charles, Tom, how old are you this year?"
Upon hearing her question, the young dragons instinctively answered, "Six years old." Realizing the White Dragoness's slowly curling lips, they sensed something ominous.
Garon listened to their conversation, expressionless.
The White Dragoness then turned gentle, but her softness made the young dragons even more uneasy. "Your brother, my greatest pride, Garon, was already self-reliant at one year old, surviving alone in the far northern ice plains," she said.
Garon inwardly cursed, recalling how she heartlessly drove him away.
Seeing the White Dragoness's unremorseful expression, Garon's irritation grew. "While you were still under my protection, enjoying carefree safety, Garon was establishing his domain and subduing his own followers with his strength," she continued, pride swelling in her voice.
Suddenly, a whooshing sound interrupted her. The White Dragoness, on alert, turned around to face a huge silver dragon claw, stopping just inches from her head, the scales' intricate patterns visible up close.
"Salya, do you miss that day five years ago?" Garon asked, not needing to elaborate further for her to recall being driven from her domain by him.
The White Dragoness's breathing hitched, and she quickly shut her mouth, grudgingly falling silent.
Garon shook his head slightly. "The far northern ice plains are safe now. Return to your domain with Hil and the others."
Relieved at Garon's command, the White Dragoness quickly left with the young dragons. Garon knew her well; it wouldn't take long for her to regain her confidence. Her self-assurance had always amazed him.
Garon then summoned the leaders of his various follower clans. "Lead your people to cleanse the far northern ice plains. Kill all mutated creatures, leave none behind, and prevent them from polluting this land."
His followers accepted the task. Given the number of mutated creatures, they were in for a busy time.
Pausing, Garon added, "I will enter slumber in the Immortal Fortress. Do not disturb me for any reason."
He pointed to Barton. "If you encounter difficult issues, seek his assistance."
Garon needed undisturbed rest to assimilate the white cube given by the Pope of Light. Dragon slumber was crucial for their growth, and interruptions could reduce its efficacy.
After the rapid growth of his hatchling phase, Garon felt his progress slowing. This was normal for true dragons, whose strength gradually increased over time. The most rapid growth occurred during the hatchling phase, eventually stabilizing at a steady threshold.
He reiterated, "Remember, do not disturb me under any circumstances."
His stern gaze swept over the clan leaders, emphasizing his seriousness. The leaders, feeling the weight of his words, realized the gravity of his instruction.
The chapter ends with Garon reaffirming his command before retreating to his slumber, leaving the ongoing tasks in the capable hands of his followers and Barton. His determination to grow stronger and protect his domain is evident.
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