As the battle between dragons and giants came to an end and the devastated Frost Giant tribe gradually settled into silence, a delicate white figure wobbled over through the air.
The White Dragon Mother, nursing serious injuries, flew near Garon and stammered, "Thank you for coming to rescue me this time."
It was clear from her awkward expression that such words of gratitude did not come easily to her.
Garon looked down at the White Dragon Mother, his tone as calm as ever: "My target was the white quartz mine. Saving you was merely convenient; do not think I came specifically for you. You were just fortunate."
After a pause, he continued earnestly, "You have brought me quite a few prey before. Consider us even now."
"No need to bring any more in the future; my kin are perfectly capable of hunting for me."
"You should take better care of Hill and the others instead of wasting your efforts on me."
Garon declared with rightful severity, "I am not yet of age! I do not consider such matters, so do not harbor any false hopes."
The White Dragon Mother blinked, taken aback by Garon's blunt rejection, and somewhat reluctantly said, "But you already appear to be a mature dragon, age notwithstanding..."
Garon cut off the White Dragon Mother's words sternly, repeating, "Let me make this clear once again, I have no intention of finding a mate."
In everyday life, Garon was not difficult to speak to, but when he was serious and his demeanor turned stern, he naturally emitted an imposing aura that was hard to ignore.
Confronted with such a solemn Garon, the White Dragon Mother felt her breath catch, she shrank back, her voice weak, "Alright, I understand."
In matters of companionship and mating, Garon's philosophy was to never settle for less.
No matter how attractive the White Dragon Mother was or how interested she seemed in him, he would never entertain such a bizarre and complex relationship.
Seeing that the White Dragon Mother seemed to give up, Garon felt relieved.
However, before he could relax for more than a few seconds, she seemed unwilling to give up entirely and mustered the courage to add, "Then, when you're of age, if you ever—"
Garon's expression darkened, and without another word, he began chanting a spell, causing several small, high-temperature fireballs to hover in front of him.
The White Dragon Mother's face stiffened, then she stepped away from Garon, closing her mouth sullenly.
"Some have a bit of a masochistic tendency, they won't listen to kind words, requiring threats of violence," Garon exhaled deeply.
The fireballs shot up into the sky, bursting into a few spectacular fireworks.
Meanwhile, beneath the briefly brightened sky, the wolf pack and the two white dragons swept back and forth across the tribe, killing every juvenile frost giant hiding or attempting to escape.
If it had been any other creature, Garon might have considered trying to subjugate it.
However, dragons and giants are sworn enemies, their animosity embedded in their very blood through generations of battle—a hatred so deep, it was irreconcilable.
Overcoming instinct and suppressing his draconic nature was not Garon's desire; naturally, he had no interest in subjugating them and opted for their complete annihilation instead.
Then, without paying any more attention to the White Dragon Mother, Garon flew alone to the site of the white quartz mine. He took a deep breath of the gem-scented air, closed his eyes, and slowly drifted into sleep.
For dragons, sleep was always the best way to replenish spirit and energy.
Most of a dragon's life was spent in slumber.
A month later, the decimated Frost Giant tribe's territory had been transformed. Large houses had been knocked down and rebuilt, and with the aid of gnoll spellcasters and minotaur shamans, a variety of new dwellings, lairs, stone houses, and caves were erected according to the preferences of different kin.
Near the peak of the small snow mountain, a new, deep dragon lair had been established.
Garon now occupied this lair, overseeing the mining of the white quartz vein.
Nearby, minotaur shamans communicated with the spirits of the earth, carefully breaking the ground and forming a progressively deepening mine shaft. Ordinary minotaurs, under the supervision of winter wolves, transported waste and rubble from the area.
The skilled gnolls, equipped with picks and shovels, followed the minotaur shamans into the mine.
Occasionally, natural white quartz was excavated, then cleared of dirt and debris by the minotaur shamans, revealing shiny, irregular crystals which winged gnolls delivered to Garon's lair.
In the depths of this new lair, a small pile of white quartz had already been placed, surrounded by highly active cold elements
.
Besides the crystals, the lair also housed treasures, artifacts, and books looted from the tribe.
Most books were useless, though some clearly contained magical teachings. Unfortunately, Garon, only fluent in Giant's tongue, couldn't read their script.
Neither the ogres nor the Wolfheart clan were literate, so Garon hadn't learned to write in Giant's tongue.
Compared to the ice cliffs towering like insurmountable barriers on the plains, this snow mountain lair was less conspicuous and, because of the mining, now housed many of his kin, making it more secure than the ice cliff territory.
However, his stay here was due to novelty, not dissatisfaction with the old lair.
Garon preferred the open, bright vistas, so he still favored the ice cliff lair.
Once a sufficient amount of white quartz was excavated, he planned to take it to the ice cliff lair. The Wolfheart clan was here, while the two white dragon guards remained at the ice cliff territory to watch over his lair.
Inside the snow mountain lair, Garon lay back, breathing in the rich elemental air, feeling revitalized.
He now lay beside the gleaming pile of white quartz, reaching out a dragon claw to scoop up a handful, then letting them slip through his fingers, the crystals clinking musically.
His draconic face was filled with contentment.
The only regret was that his study of sixth-level spells was progressing as expected, getting stuck in the later stages.
He found himself lacking some rune knowledge, which made it difficult to complete the inscription of the spell model.
After shuttling between the two lairs and watching his collection of gems grow rapidly for a month, Garon decided it was time to head south. With his current strength, he could travel anywhere on the vast Noah Continent.
But first, he planned to visit the silver dragon Luna.
As the battle between dragons and giants came to an end and the devastated Frost Giant tribe gradually settled into silence, a delicate white figure wobbled over through the air.
The White Dragon Mother, nursing serious injuries, flew near Garon and stammered, "Thank you for coming to rescue me this time."
It was clear from her awkward expression that such words of gratitude did not come easily to her.
Garon looked down at the White Dragon Mother, his tone as calm as ever: "My target was the white quartz mine. Saving you was merely convenient; do not think I came specifically for you. You were just fortunate."
After a pause, he continued earnestly, "You have brought me quite a few prey before. Consider us even now."
"No need to bring any more in the future; my kin are perfectly capable of hunting for me."
"You should take better care of Hill and the others instead of wasting your efforts on me."
Garon declared with rightful severity, "I am not yet of age! I do not consider such matters, so do not harbor any false hopes."
The White Dragon Mother blinked, taken aback by Garon's blunt rejection, and somewhat reluctantly said, "But you already appear to be a mature dragon, age notwithstanding..."
Garon cut off the White Dragon Mother's words sternly, repeating, "Let me make this clear once again, I have no intention of finding a mate."
In everyday life, Garon was not difficult to speak to, but when he was serious and his demeanor turned stern, he naturally emitted an imposing aura that was hard to ignore.
Confronted with such a solemn Garon, the White Dragon Mother felt her breath catch, she shrank back, her voice weak, "Alright, I understand."
In matters of companionship and mating, Garon's philosophy was to never settle for less.
No matter how attractive the White Dragon Mother was or how interested she seemed in him, he would never entertain such a bizarre and complex relationship.
Seeing that the White Dragon Mother seemed to give up, Garon felt relieved.
However, before he could relax for more than a few seconds, she seemed unwilling to give up entirely and mustered the courage to add, "Then, when you're of age, if you ever—"
Garon's expression darkened, and without another word, he began chanting a spell, causing several small, high-temperature fireballs to hover in front of him.
The White Dragon Mother's face stiffened, then she stepped away from Garon, closing her mouth sullenly.
"Some have a bit of a masochistic tendency, they won't listen to kind words, requiring threats of violence," Garon exhaled deeply.
The fireballs shot up into the sky, bursting into a few spectacular fireworks.
Meanwhile, beneath the briefly brightened sky, the wolf pack and the two white dragons swept back and forth across the tribe, killing every juvenile frost giant hiding or attempting to escape.
If it had been any other creature, Garon might have considered trying to subjugate it.
However, dragons and giants are sworn enemies, their animosity embedded in their very blood through generations of battle—a hatred so deep, it was irreconcilable.
Overcoming instinct and suppressing his draconic nature was not Garon's desire; naturally, he had no interest in subjugating them and opted for their complete annihilation instead.
Then, without paying any more attention to the White Dragon Mother, Garon flew alone to the site of the white quartz mine. He took a deep breath of the gem-scented air, closed his eyes, and slowly drifted into sleep.
For dragons, sleep was always the best way to replenish spirit and energy.
Most of a dragon's life was spent in slumber.
A month later, the decimated Frost Giant tribe's territory had been transformed. Large houses had been knocked down and rebuilt, and with the aid of gnoll spellcasters and minotaur shamans, a variety of new dwellings, lairs, stone houses, and caves were erected according to the preferences of different kin.
Near the peak of the small snow mountain, a new, deep dragon lair had been established.
Garon now occupied this lair, overseeing the mining of the white quartz vein.
Nearby, minotaur shamans communicated with the spirits of the earth, carefully breaking the ground and forming a progressively deepening mine shaft. Ordinary minotaurs, under the supervision of winter wolves, transported waste and rubble from the area.
The skilled gnolls, equipped with picks and shovels, followed the minotaur shamans into the mine.
Occasionally, natural white quartz was excavated, then cleared of dirt and debris by the minotaur shamans, revealing shiny, irregular crystals which winged gnolls delivered to Garon's lair.
In the depths of this new lair, a small pile of white quartz had already been placed, surrounded by highly active cold elements
.
Besides the crystals, the lair also housed treasures, artifacts, and books looted from the tribe.
Most books were useless, though some clearly contained magical teachings. Unfortunately, Garon, only fluent in Giant's tongue, couldn't read their script.
Neither the ogres nor the Wolfheart clan were literate, so Garon hadn't learned to write in Giant's tongue.
Compared to the ice cliffs towering like insurmountable barriers on the plains, this snow mountain lair was less conspicuous and, because of the mining, now housed many of his kin, making it more secure than the ice cliff territory.
However, his stay here was due to novelty, not dissatisfaction with the old lair.
Garon preferred the open, bright vistas, so he still favored the ice cliff lair.
Once a sufficient amount of white quartz was excavated, he planned to take it to the ice cliff lair. The Wolfheart clan was here, while the two white dragon guards remained at the ice cliff territory to watch over his lair.
Inside the snow mountain lair, Garon lay back, breathing in the rich elemental air, feeling revitalized.
He now lay beside the gleaming pile of white quartz, reaching out a dragon claw to scoop up a handful, then letting them slip through his fingers, the crystals clinking musically.
His draconic face was filled with contentment.
The only regret was that his study of sixth-level spells was progressing as expected, getting stuck in the later stages.
He found himself lacking some rune knowledge, which made it difficult to complete the inscription of the spell model.
After shuttling between the two lairs and watching his collection of gems grow rapidly for a month, Garon decided it was time to head south. With his current strength, he could travel anywhere on the vast Noah Continent.
But first, he planned to visit the silver dragon Luna.
