Draped in heavy armor and gripping a sharp longsword, Baron Frostwolf led his elite warriors through the dense, misty underbrush of the Moiy Forest. Their faces were grim, their steps firm, as they searched tirelessly for the elusive Sikor dragon.
This battle was not only of great importance to the Duchy of Gold but also a perilous undertaking. Baron Frostwolf, one of the Duchess's most trusted and loyal subordinates, understood the risks all too well. However, his commitment to the cause was unwavering. He believed with all his heart that he was the key to tracking down the elusive, powerful Sikor and solving the Duchess's greatest dilemma.
Throughout the long and exhausting search, Frostwolf maintained an alert vigilance. His keen observation skills and the powerful senses of his beast companions guided him as he cautiously moved forward, constantly analyzing the environment and searching for clues. Every small detail mattered—every scent, every rustle in the bushes. A single scrap of evidence could be the breakthrough they needed.
Meanwhile, his fellow knights worked in tight coordination, each using their unique abilities to contribute. The mages in the group cast spells to detect any lingering magical auras, while others with specialized tracking skills honed in on any signs of Sikor's presence. Some even communed with the natural forces of the forest, attuning their senses to the subtle energies of the land, seeking any additional information they could gather.
But as the days dragged on, doubt began to seep into their minds. Despite their tireless efforts, they had covered nearly a quarter of the entire forest, and still, no trace of the Sikor dragon had been found.
Frostwolf felt the nagging uncertainty grow inside him. Could the Sikor have already left this place? he wondered. Or worse, did it sense danger and flee to a different part of the land?
He couldn't dismiss the possibility. The thought of months of searching being wasted haunted him. Yet, the prospect of giving up now—without finding the Sikor—seemed unbearable.
After all, the Sikor's value was undeniable. Beyond its immediate threat, the dragon was a symbol of power—a symbol of the Duchess's strength. A successful capture or kill would send a powerful message to her enemies and vassals alike.
The treasure hidden within the Sikor's hoard of precious metals and artifacts paled in comparison to the political advantage of demonstrating her military might. Losing this opportunity could cost Veronica the momentum she had gained. And the Sikor itself would be nearly impossible to track down again.
In a moment of inner turmoil, Frostwolf made his decision. He would push on, no matter what lay ahead.
Elsewhere in the Moiy Forest, a similar scene unfolded. Some of the knights, like Baron Frostwolf, persisted in their search, driven by duty and loyalty. But the majority had begun to slacken. They had no intention of outright abandoning the task, but their morale was flagging. There were too many distractions—conversations, light-hearted hunting, and even casual strolls. Anyone unaware of the mission would assume they had simply come for a leisurely outing in the woods.
Far to the west of the forest, at its edge, a cave lay hidden beneath a massive cliffside. Here, the mighty Sikor dragon, now fully grown, stepped out from the shadows of its lair. If Veronica had been here, she would have recognized it immediately. This was indeed the crafty Sikor she had once battled—but this time, it had relocated from the heart of the forest to a cave near the western plains.
The dragon's appearance had changed considerably since the last war. No longer the lean, gaunt creature it had once been, its form now resembled a silver mountain, gleaming coldly under the sunlight.
Its scales were polished and smooth, each one etched with arcane runes that seemed to pulse with untapped power. The dragon's wings, broad and majestic, stretched outward like a vast silver curtain. Each beat of its wings sounded like thunder, echoing across the sky.
The Sikor's head was massive and regal, with sharp teeth that glistened like icicles under the sun's rays. Its eyes burned like twin stars, radiating a combination of wisdom and sheer might. Long, graceful whiskers trailed from its jaw, swaying with each breath it took, while its slender neck arched in an elegant curve, exuding an aura of nobility.
The dragon's claws were sharp enough to rend the very fabric of reality, capable of tearing through stone and steel alike.
But what truly set this Sikor apart from the one that had once fought against Veronica was its size. It had nearly tripled in length and now stretched a staggering forty meters long. This was a true beast of legend.
When it emerged from the cave, a wave of dragonic power rippled outward, as though the entire world was trembling beneath its weight. The dragon's throat pulsed as it gathered its strength, preparing for what would come next.
Finally, with a roar that shook the very heavens, the Sikor released an earth-shattering cry. The sound was a violent, resonating boom that echoed across the Moiy Forest, as if the very fabric of reality itself were being torn apart by its might.
This tremendous roar sent ripples of power through the air, reaching across vast distances. Even from far away, Veronica and her golden dragon, Vivian, felt the overwhelming weight of the Sikor's presence.
Vivian, always attuned to the power of dragons, flinched at the intensity of the dragon's roar. She looked to Veronica, her voice filled with concern.
"Veronica," she said softly, "I think the Sikor has reached adulthood. This time, we may not be able to kill it so easily. We're in for a tough battle."
Veronica nodded solemnly. As a seasoned dragonrider who had battled countless foes, she knew the implications of an adult dragon. The Sikor's raw power would be far greater than before.
"Luckily, the Sikor's species isn't as strong as others," Veronica replied, her voice calm but filled with a quiet determination. "And Vivian's breed, the Golden Dragon, is an elite species. You're far stronger than a mere Sikor, even if it has reached adulthood."
Vivian flexed her wings in agreement. Despite the dragon's newfound size and power, Veronica knew that with Vivian by her side, they were more than capable of facing the challenge. The perfect synergy between dragon and rider was not something that could be easily overcome.
Even though this would be a tough battle, Veronica and Vivian remained confident. If the Sikor didn't bring along another dragonrider to tip the scales, victory was still assured.
With the final preparation made, Veronica urged Vivian forward. The golden dragon shot into the air like a streak of lightning, its wings cutting through the wind as they sped toward the western edge of the Moiy Forest. There, they would confront the Sikor and bring an end to this long conflict.
Meanwhile, the knights still searching for the Sikor throughout the forest, hearing its terrifying roar, scrambled to return to the safety of the fortress. The urgency in their movements was palpable, their steps frantic, as if they were racing against death itself.
Most of the warhorses were rendered nearly immobile by the overwhelming dragonic aura, their legs trembling with fear. Only the more resilient mounts, those of intermediate-level magical beasts, could bear the presence of the Sikor's overwhelming power, though even they were struggling.
The few knights with access to advanced beast mounts were faring better, but their numbers were few. Out of the thousands stationed in the forest, only a handful had such powerful steeds, and even fewer had the skills necessary to properly ride them. This left the majority of soldiers to struggle on foot, running as fast as they could back toward the safety of the castle.
Back near the center of the Moiy Forest, Baron Frostwolf stood at the edge of a cave, his beast companion by his side, more sensitive than any human to the overwhelming dragonic energy filling the air. The presence of the Sikor was unmistakable.
"West..." Frostwolf muttered, tightening his grip around the hilt of his sword. The west was the farthest point from the fortress, a place where few ventured. Little was known about the area, aside from the fact that it had no particularly dangerous beasts or valuable resources.
His beast companion growled low, its eyes glowing with anticipation as it traced the direction of the Sikor's power. Frostwolf's mind raced. Why there? Why now?
Frustration and worry began to creep into his heart. His responsibility was to protect his Duke, yet he had no intelligence on the Sikor's movements—no real understanding of its intentions. What if the Sikor had laid a trap, luring them into a fatal confrontation?
Frostwolf seethed in silence, the realization dawning on him: He hadn't done enough. He hadn't been vigilant enough. His failure to gather proper intelligence might cost the Duchess everything.
But there was no turning back. With a heavy heart, he turned to his men.
"All units, turn around. We're heading back to the fortress. Full speed ahead."
As he looked back toward the western edge of the forest, where the inevitable battle was set to unfold, Frostwolf's heart sank. His only hope now was that the Duchess and her dragon would emerge victorious.
After all, if Veronica fell here, the entire Duchy would crumble. And Frostwolf had no doubt that the Emperor of the Emerald Kingdom would not hesitate to exact revenge. He shuddered at the thought.
"Please, let her win."