Two months later, the originally tranquil Ice River tribe had become much livelier. Around the bustling ice houses, figures of terror-lizards, white hunting dogs, and tidal crabs moved frequently, coexisting harmoniously with the Northern Ice Spirits.
Garon chose to build his nest near a section of the Ice River tribe, gathering his other subjugated followers to this location as well.
The Northern Ice Spirits, transformed by dragon blood, had seen significant improvements in strength and potential. However, to Garon's disappointment, their enhancements were limited to frost magic; none of the Northern Ice Spirits displayed any abilities to manipulate time.
It seemed they had only inherited the bloodline of a White Dragon, without a trace of the Time Dragon's lineage.
Yet, after his initial disappointment, Garon quickly came to terms with this. If influencing time were so easily acquired, Time Dragons would not be considered legendary.
Below the icy, deep river waters, something monstrous stirred, causing tumultuous waves on the surface of the winding Ice River. An eight-meter long white silhouette, barely visible beneath the water, was Garon himself.
In just two months, after undergoing a hibernation, Garon had grown considerably. Though he hadn't gained new time-related abilities, his body had expanded to a robust eight meters from head to tail. His shoulders stood 1.6 meters high when his limbs touched the ground, and his wingspan nearly reached ten meters. He had also mastered a spell-like ability typical of adolescent White Dragons.
This rate of growth was astonishing even among true dragons.
His main diet now consisted of giant-hoofed yaks, captured by hunting teams made up of Northern Ice Spirits, terror-lizards, and white hunting dogs. These yaks, four meters long and weighing three tons, made thunderous noises when they ran and were formidable opponents, though not for Garon's followers.
Ninety percent of the Ice River tribe was busy hunting these blood meals for Garon, which only barely satisfied him; he occasionally hunted magical creatures himself to supplement his diet.
As the lord of this land, Garon was not entirely inactive.
For instance, when the hunting teams encountered powerful magical creatures, Garon would intervene to kill them if he was confident he could handle the threat. Similarly, if a formidable and vicious species coveted the tribe and the Ice River tribe was powerless to stop it, Garon would also consider intervening.
Such occasions were rare, having occurred only once in the past two months.
Garon was currently chasing a school of fish under the Ice River—a group of strong, plump Ice River sharks, averaging two meters in length. Despite their mouths full of sharp teeth, they lacked spell-like abilities and were merely ordinary beasts. Under Garon's agile pursuit, they had no chance of resisting and were as easy to catch as fish on a chopping board.
He particularly enjoyed the taste of these Ice River sharks—delicious, cool, and easy to catch.
However, since their numbers were limited, Garon considered them more of a treat to satisfy his cravings.
Crunch!
Biting into two Ice River sharks at once, Garon chewed briefly before swallowing them whole.
The remaining sharks panicked and fled, but Garon did not pursue further. Instead, he savored the delicious texture as he turned and dived deeper, reaching his lair at the bottom of the river.
His dragon's lair was constructed at the deepest part of this river segment, about fifty meters below the surface, glowing faintly in the dim riverbed light.
It took him a day to dig out the lair using his frost breath to coat the walls with a layer of glittering ice. Though somewhat crooked, the lair was shaped like an elongated 'L', with the deepest part serving as Garon's sleeping area.
Dragons have a unique eye structure that includes a nictitating membrane to keep water out and a lens that gathers light, allowing them to see in the dark.
The murky depths did not hinder Garon's vision; to him, it was merely dimmer, but he could still see clearly.
At the deepest part of the lair, Garon had constructed an ice bed that could accommodate his body, following the example set by the White Dragon Mother.
Due to the low temperature of the Ice River waters, this ice bed was difficult to melt and required little energy to maintain.
On his large ice bed, Garon didn't just have empty space; there lay a rusty, corroded armor and a similarly decayed sword.
After lying down on the ice bed, Garon toyed with the rusted armor and sword, appreciating the deep sense of time they embodied.
He gently caressed them, his face showing contentment.
These items, unearthed from the riverbed's mud during the cave's construction, had immediately caught Garon's eye.
It wasn't their physical form he cherished but the traces of age they bore.
For Garon, objects with such a
long history and time-worn presence were more attractive than gold or jewels.
Of course, gold and jewels were still appealing to Garon, but not as much as items that had withstood the passage of time, especially if they were ancient coins or gems.
Being near these collectibles, Garon felt as if his ability to consume time was subtly enhanced.
When deploying time-manipulating abilities, which consumed temporal power, the rate at which he could consume time was a critical factor for Garon.
"Burying them and digging them up after a long time will add even more history to them," he thought.
However, since his collection was still modest, he was reluctant to actually do so.
Next, Garon hugged his beloved treasures and began to sleep, rapidly digesting the several giant-hoofed yaks and Ice River sharks he had just eaten. The total weight of this food was slightly more than his own body mass—a typical feat for dragons, who could eat more than their weight in one meal.
Half a day later, Garon had nearly finished his rest.
He opened his eyes, reluctantly left the ice bed, and set aside the time-stained armor and sword.
With an eight-meter-long body that moved through the water with the agility of a swift fish, Garon folded his wings to his sides and swiftly surfaced from the water.
Whoosh!
A cascade of crystal-clear droplets slid off his white scales, making Garon's robust dragon body appear almost divine.
A few Northern Ice Spirits, seeing Garon, respectfully bowed their heads, saying, "Praise the great true dragon."
Since claiming this territory and taking the Northern Ice Spirits as his followers, their lives had visibly improved. Beings like the terror-lizards and white hunting dogs, which could have easily preyed on them, now served almost as pets.
The protection of a true dragon, even an adolescent one, was a rare and valuable thing.
Having accepted protection and undergone dragon-vein transformation, the Northern Ice Spirits offered their labor in return.
As elemental beings, they did not require food; they sustained themselves by absorbing the abundant ice elements from the air of the Ice River plains, making them easy to maintain. The meat from their hunts, usually of lesser quality, was used to feed less intelligent followers like the terror-lizards, while the tastier giant-hoofed yaks were reserved for Garon.
Garon did not respond to the Ice Spirits' reverence; as a true dragon, he did not need to acknowledge their respect—acceptance was enough.
With a graceful flap of his wings, Garon headed further north, flying to a place far from the small Ice River, out of sight of any followers.
He used his dragon claws to dig through the snow, revealing the frozen, gray-brown soil beneath, and began to dig a small hole.
Two months later, the originally tranquil Ice River tribe had become much livelier. Around the bustling ice houses, figures of terror-lizards, white hunting dogs, and tidal crabs moved frequently, coexisting harmoniously with the Northern Ice Spirits.
Garon chose to build his nest near a section of the Ice River tribe, gathering his other subjugated followers to this location as well.
The Northern Ice Spirits, transformed by dragon blood, had seen significant improvements in strength and potential. However, to Garon's disappointment, their enhancements were limited to frost magic; none of the Northern Ice Spirits displayed any abilities to manipulate time.
It seemed they had only inherited the bloodline of a White Dragon, without a trace of the Time Dragon's lineage.
Yet, after his initial disappointment, Garon quickly came to terms with this. If influencing time were so easily acquired, Time Dragons would not be considered legendary.
Below the icy, deep river waters, something monstrous stirred, causing tumultuous waves on the surface of the winding Ice River. An eight-meter long white silhouette, barely visible beneath the water, was Garon himself.
In just two months, after undergoing a hibernation, Garon had grown considerably. Though he hadn't gained new time-related abilities, his body had expanded to a robust eight meters from head to tail. His shoulders stood 1.6 meters high when his limbs touched the ground, and his wingspan nearly reached ten meters. He had also mastered a spell-like ability typical of adolescent White Dragons.
This rate of growth was astonishing even among true dragons.
His main diet now consisted of giant-hoofed yaks, captured by hunting teams made up of Northern Ice Spirits, terror-lizards, and white hunting dogs. These yaks, four meters long and weighing three tons, made thunderous noises when they ran and were formidable opponents, though not for Garon's followers.
Ninety percent of the Ice River tribe was busy hunting these blood meals for Garon, which only barely satisfied him; he occasionally hunted magical creatures himself to supplement his diet.
As the lord of this land, Garon was not entirely inactive.
For instance, when the hunting teams encountered powerful magical creatures, Garon would intervene to kill them if he was confident he could handle the threat. Similarly, if a formidable and vicious species coveted the tribe and the Ice River tribe was powerless to stop it, Garon would also consider intervening.
Such occasions were rare, having occurred only once in the past two months.
Garon was currently chasing a school of fish under the Ice River—a group of strong, plump Ice River sharks, averaging two meters in length. Despite their mouths full of sharp teeth, they lacked spell-like abilities and were merely ordinary beasts. Under Garon's agile pursuit, they had no chance of resisting and were as easy to catch as fish on a chopping board.
He particularly enjoyed the taste of these Ice River sharks—delicious, cool, and easy to catch.
However, since their numbers were limited, Garon considered them more of a treat to satisfy his cravings.
Crunch!
Biting into two Ice River sharks at once, Garon chewed briefly before swallowing them whole.
The remaining sharks panicked and fled, but Garon did not pursue further. Instead, he savored the delicious texture as he turned and dived deeper, reaching his lair at the bottom of the river.
His dragon's lair was constructed at the deepest part of this river segment, about fifty meters below the surface, glowing faintly in the dim riverbed light.
It took him a day to dig out the lair using his frost breath to coat the walls with a layer of glittering ice. Though somewhat crooked, the lair was shaped like an elongated 'L', with the deepest part serving as Garon's sleeping area.
Dragons have a unique eye structure that includes a nictitating membrane to keep water out and a lens that gathers light, allowing them to see in the dark.
The murky depths did not hinder Garon's vision; to him, it was merely dimmer, but he could still see clearly.
At the deepest part of the lair, Garon had constructed an ice bed that could accommodate his body, following the example set by the White Dragon Mother.
Due to the low temperature of the Ice River waters, this ice bed was difficult to melt and required little energy to maintain.
On his large ice bed, Garon didn't just have empty space; there lay a rusty, corroded armor and a similarly decayed sword.
After lying down on the ice bed, Garon toyed with the rusted armor and sword, appreciating the deep sense of time they embodied.
He gently caressed them, his face showing contentment.
These items, unearthed from the riverbed's mud during the cave's construction, had immediately caught Garon's eye.
It wasn't their physical form he cherished but the traces of age they bore.
For Garon, objects with such a
long history and time-worn presence were more attractive than gold or jewels.
Of course, gold and jewels were still appealing to Garon, but not as much as items that had withstood the passage of time, especially if they were ancient coins or gems.
Being near these collectibles, Garon felt as if his ability to consume time was subtly enhanced.
When deploying time-manipulating abilities, which consumed temporal power, the rate at which he could consume time was a critical factor for Garon.
"Burying them and digging them up after a long time will add even more history to them," he thought.
However, since his collection was still modest, he was reluctant to actually do so.
Next, Garon hugged his beloved treasures and began to sleep, rapidly digesting the several giant-hoofed yaks and Ice River sharks he had just eaten. The total weight of this food was slightly more than his own body mass—a typical feat for dragons, who could eat more than their weight in one meal.
Half a day later, Garon had nearly finished his rest.
He opened his eyes, reluctantly left the ice bed, and set aside the time-stained armor and sword.
With an eight-meter-long body that moved through the water with the agility of a swift fish, Garon folded his wings to his sides and swiftly surfaced from the water.
Whoosh!
A cascade of crystal-clear droplets slid off his white scales, making Garon's robust dragon body appear almost divine.
A few Northern Ice Spirits, seeing Garon, respectfully bowed their heads, saying, "Praise the great true dragon."
Since claiming this territory and taking the Northern Ice Spirits as his followers, their lives had visibly improved. Beings like the terror-lizards and white hunting dogs, which could have easily preyed on them, now served almost as pets.
The protection of a true dragon, even an adolescent one, was a rare and valuable thing.
Having accepted protection and undergone dragon-vein transformation, the Northern Ice Spirits offered their labor in return.
As elemental beings, they did not require food; they sustained themselves by absorbing the abundant ice elements from the air of the Ice River plains, making them easy to maintain. The meat from their hunts, usually of lesser quality, was used to feed less intelligent followers like the terror-lizards, while the tastier giant-hoofed yaks were reserved for Garon.
Garon did not respond to the Ice Spirits' reverence; as a true dragon, he did not need to acknowledge their respect—acceptance was enough.
With a graceful flap of his wings, Garon headed further north, flying to a place far from the small Ice River, out of sight of any followers.
He used his dragon claws to dig through the snow, revealing the frozen, gray-brown soil beneath, and began to dig a small hole.
