Gandulf stood next to the window, watching the trees sway gracefully in the wind, their movements almost hypnotic. "What's happening to me?" he wondered, his thoughts swirling like the leaves outside. Ever since the incident where he had unleashed ice magic without any prior knowledge of it, a nagging fear had taken root in his mind. Was he becoming an ice dragon, the very creature he despised?
His mind flashed back to the events during the ice dragon's attack on the academy. He recalled the fierce battles, several ice dragons' defeat, and the dragon lord's relentless pursuit. To his astonishment, he had found the dragon lord half-dead, already defeated by that boy. "Wait... why didn't I remember that?" he muttered, a frown creasing his forehead. The boy had called himself the Slime Lord, and the magical power he had wielded was extraordinary, almost beyond comprehension.
