"No wonder you're a despicable offspring of Tiamat, you truly inherited Her gift of glib tongue and confusion of right and wrong!"
"In my long life, I have fought countless five-colored dragons, and eventually I realized one thing—"
Osedro stared at the Red Dragon, hostility growing more evident in his eyes. "For a scion of Tiamat like you, any persuasion is just a waste of words."
"Only the purest strength can make you submit! Make you realize your mistakes, and return to the righteous path of the Lord of the Northwind!"
"Roar—
Osedro let out another roar.
He suddenly swung his bright silver broad wings, the surrounding gale became fiercer, and a storm of icy hail assaulted the Red Dragon.
This was just a small test, but to mortals, it would be an apocalyptic disaster.
Even the Lionheart Knights would be turned into ice sculptures in such a storm.
"Heh, you arrogant old fossil—"
"Can't win a debate so you're relying on force, huh?"
