Dracos unfolded his arms and stepped forward, his boots crunching softly against the snow.
The elder stiffened slightly.
It wasn't fear—but wariness. After all, the other person was a Monarch, and although his Kingdom wasn't as prosperous as the Big Four, he was a force to be reckoned with.
Furthermore, even the Supreme Dragon Court kept a close eye on him, suspecting that he let on more than he revealed.
Dracos's presence expanded subtly. The cold around them thickened. A beautiful sheen of frost spread outward from his boots, coating the ground. And then the Ice Monarch finally spoke.
One word. It was calm, sharp, and final.
The elder's eyes narrowed. "You would stand against the Court? Tsk. We knew this day would come."
Dracos tilted his head slightly, his hair shifting with the breeze. "I stand for Frostpire."
The elder's gaze sharpened, a big red vein throbbing on his forehead. "Helping a rogue hybrid is treason."
Dracos shrugged slightly. "Interpret it how you like."
The elder's fists clenched at his sides, faint cracks forming in the ice beneath his boots.
"You realize what you're doing?" the elder asked, his voice lower and more deadly now.
The elder took a slow step back, adjusting his stance. His aura pulsed outward—a heavy, oppressive weight.
Dracos answered with his own.
A wave of frost energy rolled off him, freezing the very mist in the air.
Tiny shards of snow hovered, unmoving, suspended between the two powers.
Nox stood between them, the tension pressing against his skin, feeling like he was standing between two collapsing glaciers.
Dracos didn't look at him, but he spoke anyway.
Nox exhaled once through his nose, tightened his grip, and slowly stepped back.
He knew better than to argue.
The Ice Monarch had made his choice.
He was going to fight.
But the Supreme Dragon Court itself.
Yet, Nox wasn't planning to let him do all the work.
At the slightest opportunity—or if Dracos struggled—he would intervene swiftly.
At that precise moment, the two dragons faced each other, separated by barely a few meters.
The elder's aura pressed outward, thick and cold like sinking into an arctic sea. His robes shifted slightly under the pressure, the intricate frost patterns along the cloth beginning to glow faintly. Fine cracks spread beneath his boots, the earth itself reacting to his magic.
Dracos stood calmly. His cloak billowed behind him, silver strands of hair whipping across his face, but his body was motionless. His presence didn't explode outward like the elder's.
It compressed inward.
His cold aura was dense and much sharper—like a needle of absolute cold waiting to strike.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened.
The elder moved first.
He vanished from sight with a burst of frost, reappearing a split-second later directly above Dracos, both palms glowing with blue-white energy. He swung downward, aiming to crush Dracos into the ground.
Dracos didn't even lift his hands.
Instead, the ground beneath him shattered outward in a circle, releasing a fountain of pure ice that met the elder's attack midair.
The two forces collided, sending a shockwave of frozen mist blasting through the forest. Trees bent and cracked. Loose stones were hurled into the air.
Nox shielded his face from the wave, squinting through the blizzard of broken ice.
When the mist cleared, the elder had landed several meters away, one knee bent to absorb the force.
Dracos stood exactly where he had been, untouched.
The elder narrowed his eyes.
He hadn't expected such tight defense. No wasted movement. No opening to exploit.
"You've gotten stronger," the elder said simply.
He raised one hand slightly.
The ice around him responded instantly, rising into thin spears that hovered around his body like a crown of frozen knives.
The elder shifted his stance.
This time, he didn't rush in.
He extended one hand forward, and a swirling vortex of snow formed in his palm. It condensed rapidly, forming a massive halberd made entirely of shimmering frost.
With a sharp motion, he hurled the weapon forward.
It screamed through the air, twisting and spiraling toward Dracos at impossible speed.
Dracos responded with a slight twitch of his fingers.
Half the ice spears floating around him shot forward, intercepting the halberd mid-flight.
The halberd shattered into a hundred shards, the impact echoing like bells in the frozen forest.
But the elder was already moving again.
He appeared behind Dracos, a blade of condensed ice forming in his right hand.
It was a killing strike and aimed straight for Dracos's heart.
Instead, his body shifted slightly, and a sudden surge of mist erupted around him. For a moment, his entire figure became blurred, distorted by the intense cold.
The elder's blade passed through nothing but freezing air.
Before he could react, Dracos turned.
But with compressed frost energy layered so tightly it rippled the space between them.
The elder barely raised his arms in time.
He was thrown backward, crashing through two thick trees before regaining his footing.
The trees shattered into fragments under the force.
Nox watched, stunned despite himself.
He had seen strong fighters before.
But this was something different.
This wasn't just strength.
Dracos hadn't wasted a single movement. Every action was calculated, every defense layered perfectly—without a hint of panic or overexertion.
The elder slowly straightened.
Frost fell from his robes. His expression was no longer calm as the grim realization set in—that he was clearly weaker than the First Monarch.
Seeing this, Dracos couldn't help but smirk, as his mind drifted to his trusty monster core wine. The other dragons only absorbed monster cores once in a while, as it left them weak and vulnerable for some time.
However, by diluting it with his wine, Dracos had overridden this weakness and had been steadily and slowly increasing his strength over the years.
"You really intend to turn against the Court," the elder frost dragon growled.
"It was inevitable. I guess after taking you down, there will be seven left. It will take long, but I'll eventually get rid of all of you," Dracos said.
The elder stared at him, eyes blazing with anger. Then his hands began to glow again, brighter this time. Layers of magic circles spun into existence behind him—seven center seals.
Dracos recognized it immediately.
Frost magic—Crystalline Domain!
It was a powerful ice technique.
Once cast, it would freeze everything within a mile, locking the battlefield to the elder's advantage.
Dracos watched it unfold with mild interest.
He didn't move to stop it.
He didn't even look worried.
Instead, he lifted his right hand again.
Ice formed around his wrist like armor.
Just pure, condensed power.
He spoke softly, almost lazily:
"Step one foot closer to him..."
"...and you'll lose it."
The words weren't shouted.
They weren't laced with threat.
They were a simple truth.
The elder narrowed his eyes.
For the first time, the elder hesitated.
And that told Nox everything he needed to know.
Even among the Court—even among the oldest dragons—Dracos was feared.
"Striking that deal with him could be the best decision I ever made in my life," Nox thought, then glanced at the elder dragon. "Now what?"