Under the deep night sky, the twin moons silently observed the events below like watchful eyes. The battle between an eighteen-year-old hybrid dragon and a one-hundred-eighty-year-old adult dragon concluded with Garoth forcing the white dragon to surrender by rolling onto her back.
"Must we white dragons forever bear the sha of being the disgrace among dragons, enduring endless humiliation from other dragonkin?"
"Is there truly no chance for a white dragon to defeat red dragons with fists and kick gold dragons with feet?"
"Every dragon looks down on , and I'm indeed the weakest."
The white dragon Trixie seed to have her brain rattled, clutching her head with both claws while muttering incoherently. Hearing her words, Garoth tilted his head slightly.
He privately considered that with his adaptive evolution talent, had he been born a white dragon, he might have staged a dramatic coback—achieving exactly what this white dragon dread of. For ordinary white dragons, matching red dragons, let alone gold dragons, was virtually impossible.
"My red iron hybrid bloodline made naturally comparable to gold dragons from birth."
"My evolution talent and personal training should allow to rival even those exceptionally powerful dinsional dragons."
"At my young dragon age, defeating an adult white dragon isn't particularly remarkable."
Garoth reflected calmly, feeling no particular pride in this victory. Unlike before when defeating formidable opponents would trigger draconic instincts that made him sowhat giddy, he didn't regard white dragons as true kin in his inherited instincts.
Against an adult red dragon or even a young adult red dragon, the current Garoth would likely need to reveal all his trump cards—the gap between them being as vast as between a cat and a tiger.
"White dragon, what's your na?"
Suppressing his instinct to call her "White Scales," Garoth inquired. The white dragon beneath him snapped back to awareness, finding the red iron dragon's gaze strangely contradictory—wavering between contempt and restrained calmness, making his true intentions unreadable.
Still, not being called "White Scales" offered so comfort.
"Trixie," the white dragon answered softly.
"Now let's discuss compensation," Garoth said, lifting his claw from her body. He pointed at his shattered scales, "You started this fight and damaged my precious scales. This won't end with re surrender—you must pay the price."
There was no blood feud between them. Garoth had no intention to kill. Among dragonkind, lethal outcos were rare without deep hatred, with victors typically demanding compensation through wealth or servitude instead.
Wincing from pervasive pain, the white dragon's chest heaved violently as she struggled upright. Her expression was ashen, eyes dull. True to Garoth's words, her claws had left so marks on him—but compared to her own condition, the white dragon was a pitiful sight.
Large patches of her scales were shattered, covered in wounds from Garoth's attacks, several bones fractured, claws broken—a truly miserable state. Worse still, the more severely injured white dragon had to compensate the virtually unhard red iron dragon.
But the true devastation was psychological. As a dragon nearing pri adulthood, she'd been utterly crushed by a young dragon who seed to hold back power throughout the fight.
Confronted with this monstrous red iron hybrid who defied all efforts to defeat, the white dragon surrendered to fate. Shedding her forr pride, she adopted the cowering posture of a defeated underdog: "I'll surrender half my wealth as apology."
Garoth shook his head silently. "Insufficient. I want everything." His tone brooked no argunt, "Rember—you started this. The loser forfeits all."
The white dragon bared her teeth, every scale trembling in protest as if her heart bled. "Impossible! My wealth is my life! You might as well kill !"
Observing her dramatic reaction, Garoth mused: "An adult dragon so emotionally unrestrained, incapable of controlling instincts?" He recalled how the Iron Dragon Mother, though covetous, exercised so restraint. With age and experience, dragons typically matured, gaining control over primal urges.
Yet this white dragon Trixie, nearing pri age, displayed shocking immaturity. "Perhaps racial differences," Garoth considered, "Beyond strength, white dragons have the lowest intellect among chromatic dragons, more slave to instincts—juvenile white dragons being practically beasts. This Trixie seems rather dim despite her age."
This being his first white dragon encounter, Garoth sought deeper understanding. Inherited mories contained too much ancestral bias—he treated them as reference rather than absolute truth. Still, current observations suggested those stereotypes held so validity.
After contemplation, Garoth narrowed his eyes nacingly: "If wealth ans more than life, I'll gladly send you to Tiamat clinging to your treasures." His claw extended toward her throat.
The white dragon stiffened, tail rigid. Shouldn't bargaining co first? No negotiation—straight to execution?! This red iron hybrid was terrifyingly ruthless!
"W-wait!" Trixie pleaded desperately, "I can't part with wealth, but I can satisfy you otherwise!"
Garoth paused. This was precisely his goal. Though incomparable to himself, she surpassed Samantha, Sorog, and all his followers in strength—after all, he'd needed Frenzied State to truly overpower this adult dragon. Recruiting her would bolster Dragon Valley's forces, and crucially, she could help train his frost resistance.
The Frost Silver Ring from the brass dragon required recharging and couldn't match an adult white dragon's power. While Trixie assud he wanted treasure, Garoth coveted the dragon herself.
"Explain—what besides wealth could possibly interest ?" Garoth maintained dominance.
The white dragon rose, eyes glinting as her sinuous tail attempted to coil around his neck—only to be slapped away. "What are you doing?" Garoth demanded warily.
Trixie seed montarily stunned, then exhaled a frosty breath, spreading wings and arching her tail to accentuate her curves. "I could bear you a clutch of offspring," she offered, adding, "I've never taken mates before. You know a dam's first brood is always strongest—I could perpetuate your bloodline."
Having disdained other white dragons, Trixie had suppressed her urges—until this red iron hybrid who brutally defeated and humiliated her awakened her attraction to strength. His powerful physique stirred unfamiliar heat within her.
Offspring?! Who knew why white dragons thought this way.
"Control yourself!" Garoth retreated from her advances, firmly rejecting.
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