"Betrayal! Lowly creatures! You dare betray !"
The Cliff Serpent Dragon let out a shrill roar, spewing poisonous mist at the old Shaman. The giant wolf phantom enveloping the old Shaman's body leaped nimbly, narrowly avoiding the toxic cloud.
"Mighty dragon, please slay this evil serpent for us!"
"You shall gain the friendship of the Howling Moon Clan, our reverence and offerings!"
The old Shaman shouted skyward.
Hearing this, although Garoth still couldn't decipher the strange relationship between this clan and the serpent dragon, one thing beca clear—they weren't allies.
This made things simpler.
Now that the Cliff Serpent Dragon was severely wounded and weakened, apart from its death curse, it posed little threat.
Garoth folded his wings, ceasing his aerial circling, and dove downward under the tense, fearful gazes of the werewolves before landing with a thunderous impact.
Whoosh!
He exhaled a thick, smoke-like white gas toward the Cliff Serpent Dragon—Hypnotic Breath!
The serpent dragon tried to evade but failed due to its sluggish movents.
Yet when the Hypnotic Breath settled on its body, it proved ineffective, failing to induce a hypnotic state.
The Cliff Serpent Dragon possessed remarkably high resistance to curses, paralysis, and sleep—even higher than its resistance to fire. The iron dragon's Hypnotic Breath had limited effect on it.
"Serpent dragon, submit to , and I'll spare your life."
Seeing the Hypnotic Breath fail, Garoth didn't rush to kill. Instead, he fixed his gaze on the creature and spoke gravely.
A creature like the Cliff Serpent Dragon—venomous, bearing a death curse, and ferociously violent—was troubleso as an enemy but incredibly useful if tad into an enforcer.
Moreover, since the effects of its death curse remained uncertain, Garoth preferred not to risk enduring it.
Although reduced fire resistance could be rebuilt through training, it would still waste precious ti and hinder his growth.
"Submit? To you?!"
The Cliff Serpent Dragon snarled defiantly.
Garoth wasn't powerful enough to command its submission, and consud by rage, the serpent dragon would rather die than let Garoth escape unscathed.
"Since you refuse to submit, then die."
Garoth's eyes turned icy.
He wasn't one to hesitate.
Eliminating this threat was worth so sacrifice.
The Cliff Serpent Dragon dug its claws into the ground, lifting its upper body. Its blood-red eyes swept over the detestable hybrid dragon before it and the wary werewolves surrounding them, its hatred almost materializing.
"Serpent dragons fear no death!"
Black mist suddenly billowed from its green-scaled body as it shrieked hysterically at Garoth:
"With my life, with my soul, I curse you! May you forever fear flas! Fear the scorch!"
Before Garoth could strike, the serpent dragon's cries abruptly ceased—it collapsed dead to the ground.
The black mist around its body thickened, solidifying into a vicious serpent dragon emblem that shot toward Garoth.
Whoosh!
A gale-force wind sent nearby werewolves stumbling.
Garoth shot skyward, attempting to outpace the Curse of Fire.
The curse's emblem moved slowly—its first strike missed Garoth entirely, dissipating midair. Yet despite avoiding direct contact, Garoth suddenly felt his body grow hot, then cold.
"As expected, not so easy to evade."
Garoth shook his head.
For now, however, he detected no adverse effects from the curse.
"If it reduces resistance, let's test it."
He exhaled a jet of flas at his own claws.
A faint burning sensation imdiately made him frown.
With his hybrid red and iron dragon heritage, ordinary flas should have felt like a breeze—completely harmless.
Yet now, he felt pain.
Just as the legends described, the Cliff Serpent Dragon's Curse of Fire indeed weakened fire resistance.
Garoth pondered briefly, then continued breathing fire onto his claws.
The burning pain persisted but rapidly faded until it vanished entirely.
"Hmm? Resistance recovered this quickly?"
Garoth was surprised.
But upon reflection, it made sense.
His resistance had been tempered through evolution. Though weakened by the curse, his foundational resilience remained, allowing rapid readjustnt—unlike the initial arduous training.
"Even the serpent dragon's death curse is weak. Pathetic."
Suddenly, his claws began hurting again.
The curse was reactivating, reducing his fire resistance once more.
"Excellent! Not a one-ti, hard-to-recover resistance drop, but a sustained curse!"
Rather than dismay, Garoth felt exhilaration.
Sustained damage best stimulated his adaptive evolution.
Given his understanding of his innate talents, he foresaw his fire resistance steadily climbing through this cycle of reduction and recovery.
Curse of Fire?
No!
To Garoth, this was a Blessing of Fire.
Had the Cliff Serpent Dragon known this, it might not have killed itself so decisively—or cursed Garoth at all.
"Serpent dragons, serpent dragons..."
"Are there others in the Ser Wilderness?"
"If I hunt down all major serpent dragon variants, I could elevate every aspect of my resistances."
Garoth licked his jaws, contemplating.
Most dragons dreaded serpent dragons' venomous nature—Garoth included—but from this mont onward, that changed entirely.
With composed deanor, he descended upon Crescent Valley.
The old Shaman imdiately approached, addressing Garoth respectfully:
"Noble and mighty dragon, thank you for slaying the evil serpent for our Howling Moon Clan."
"Whatever you desire that we possess, we shall offer it in gratitude."
Garoth studied the old Shaman, then scanned the surrounding Graymane Werewolves before speaking slowly:
"I want your Howling Moon Clan. I want your submission and loyalty."
The old Shaman's expression shifted.
They'd already suffered the consequences of serving the serpent dragon.
Now a more powerful dragon demanded allegiance—one of unknown temperant. What if it proved more tyrannical? Wouldn't that be jumping from the frying pan into the fire?
Seeming to sense their hesitation, Garoth added:
"I'm no brutal oppressor, or this place would already be afla."
"As my vassals, you beco my assets. I don't senselessly damage my own wealth. Instead, under my protection, you'll gain security and prosperity."
"You have ten days to decide."
"Should you refuse, I won't force you. I respect your choice—though I'll mourn your loss."
With that, he seized the serpent dragon's corpse and soared away.
As Garoth stated, should the werewolf clan refuse, he wouldn't compel them.
He would, however, eradicate them.
An intelligent clan operating along the Thousand Serpent Traces' branch routes—even if unaware of his exact whereabouts—could potentially leak information, inviting unnecessary trouble.
Thus, if they proved uncooperative...
For his own safety, Garoth would root them out completely.
His amicable deanor served to keep them placidly stationed in Crescent Valley, making annihilation easier. Ten days sufficed for his full recovery.
Only when Garoth's silhouette vanished into the night sky did the werewolves relax.
"Elder, that dragon seed... reasonable."
"Do you think it's truly malevolent?"
The young Chieftain approached the old Shaman, whispering.
Gazing where Garoth had departed, the old Shaman murmured:
"It bears the visage of a fearso dragon, but ti has taught this—never judge by appearances. This holds true for dragons as well."
"His words, deanor, and actions differ from the tyrants I've known."
"Perhaps... he's a dragon worth pledging to."
In the wilderness, swearing fealty to a mighty dragon often ant survival—even prosperity—for many races.
"Summon the clan's respected mbers imdiately. We must decide—submit or refuse."
As this concerned their clan's future, the Howling Moon Clan promptly convened under the old Shaman and Chieftain's leadership to determine their fate.
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