Dracotitán

"Thank you for your concern, Muria, but it's not needed for the time being," Kaslana, the Golden Dragon, said with a slight squint in her dragon eyes, smiling.

"Really not needed?" Muria asked again.

"Just a group of green dragons. Sister can handle them."

"Alright, then I'll go deal with that red dragon."

"Ugh!" After using the Magic Sword of Duncan to slash a green dragon to waste and swinging her staff to fling another green dragon that pounced on her, Kaslana glanced at the five red-robed archbishops who were maintaining Varian's defensive magic circle.

"Could it be that the Dawn Church paid Brother Muria to help? That's possible. After all, such a large church is never short of money. But it could also be that Brother Muria took the initiative to help?"

Golden Dragons belong to the lawful good alignment. It's only natural for them to want to fight against the presence of evil alignments.

...

On the other side, the Red Dragon, Ortles of the Crimson Wing, who was attacking Varian's city's protective magic circle along with four soul-bound werewolves and four vampire marquises, suddenly felt a tremor in his heart.

Just as the Red Dragon, spewing dragon flames at the shield, thought about fleeing instinctively, a portal suddenly opened beside its fierce dragon head. A massive golden dragon claw reached out from it, grabbed the Red Dragon by its thick neck, and then swung it towards the werewolf army surrounding Varian.

Amidst the howls and screams of countless werewolves fleeing in disarray, the Red Dragon Ortles drew a straight, long rainbow through the air and crashed into the outskirts of the wilderness city. The immense inertia carved a trench nearly a kilometer long on the ground, turning all encountered grass, boulders, and low hills to dust.

As for the werewolves standing on it, not even their bones remained. The inertia of a nearly hundred-meter-long Red Dragon crashing down was not something these bronze and silver-ranked lower werewolves, who lacked the ability to fly, could withstand.

"Who dares?" The Red Dragon Ortles, suddenly thrown out as if he were an object, stood up and glared at his original position, roaring in anger, "Who dares to offend the great Lord of the Crimson Wings?"

The portal that had just appeared, under the watchful eyes of all, quickly expanded. Then, from within, a dazzling golden dragon stepped out calmly. Its majestic and awe-inspiring dragon body hovered in mid-air, with its dragon head adorned with six winding horns, looking down upon the Red Dragon he had just thrown.

"Me! Do you have a problem with that?"

"I..." Ortles, the Red Dragon, seeing the suddenly appeared golden dragon, whose dragon body was even more robust than his and whose scales gave a sense of profound weight, opened his mouth but could only utter "I..." without managing to say anything else.

The impact of Muria's dragon form was too great, especially the six winding horns on his forehead, which resembled a crown, deeply intimidating him.

He wasn't a dragon without a legacy; he knew what those six horns represented.

"The descendant of the First Dragon King!"

"Good that you recognize it. I'll give you a chance: submit to me, and I'll spare your life," Muria, with his golden dragon eyes, said calmly, looking at the old Red Dragon, whose body size was not much smaller than his own.

"..." Ortles, the Red Dragon, fell silent. It was clear from Muria's appearance that his lineage originated from gold dragons, naturally antagonistic to his own kind.

If these words were spoken by a descendant of the Red Dragon King from the first generation, he would have submitted without hesitation, without a shred of doubt.

But now, this suddenly appeared dragon, demanding his submission, was a descendant of a gold dragon ascended to Dragon King. Of course... he was unwilling.

Moreover, this descendant of the Dragon King, his strength seemed only to be at the second tier of soul intent, three tiers lower than his own.

If he could kill or even capture this descendant of the First Dragon King and present him to the great Dragon Mother Tiamat, then he might receive unimaginable rewards, such as elevating his own draconic bloodline several levels.

"Oh, quite bold." Just as Ortles harbored ill intentions, Muria felt a strong malice. Red Dragons always act boldly and openly, with "low-profile" not being a word associated with this flamboyant and arrogant breed.

"Not willing to submit? Well, daring to harbor ill thoughts against me, should I say you're bold or ignorant, old dragon?"

"Boom!" A sound like thunder erupted, and along the straight line from Muria to the position of Ortles, a series of explosive rings appeared, creating a violent wind that blew away countless werewolves and bats.

A straight vacuum channel appeared, the result of Muria's powerful charge.

Feeling the Red Dragon's malice, Muria flapped his wings and instantly covered the distance of a thousand meters, appearing in front of the Red Dragon. His long dragon tail, with a lance-like tip, whipped out like a divine whip, striking the Red Dragon.

"Aow!" Ortles, the Red Dragon, let out a miserable howl as Muria's thorny-scaled tail whipped him from the ground into the air, like a small hill. Scalding dragon blood splattered as a deep, bone-visible wound appeared from his neck to his back, the scales and flesh gone, but soon, the flesh around the wound began to wriggle and grow new muscle, showing the vigorous vitality of a high-tier dragon.

"With just this ability, you dared to harbor ill thoughts against me." Muria, who had whipped the Red Dragon into the sky, sneered and followed up. A muscular dragon claw reached out, about to grab the Red Dragon's neck again.

"Even if you are a descendant of the Dragon King, you can't treat me like this!" Ortles, who had taken a few hits, saw the arrogant and indifferent look in Muria's golden dragon eyes as he approached and went berserk.

It had always been him looking down on other inferior beings with such a lofty gaze. Now, suddenly, in a duchy's city, he was being looked at in such a manner by another dragon of a weaker strength level.

He simply couldn't accept it, even if it was a descendant of the First Dragon King, a being more noble than the ancestral dragons according to the legends; he couldn't bear such contempt.

"Roar!" A hot, seething dragon flame burst forth, and Ortles used the dragon's signature ability, breath attack.

"Disgusting!" Facing the scorching breath that seemed to twist the space itself, Muria made no move to dodge. His claw moved against the Red Dragon's breath, and in its astonished gaze, he grabbed its neck for the second time. Then, holding it with a force the Red Dragon couldn't resist, he smashed it to the ground...

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