Obsidian circled high above the clouds, his sharp dragon eyes fixed on the hunting party below, which, though weary, remained resilient.
For the past three days, he had followed them like a shadow, silently trailing the trolls at a subtle distance.
They trudged through frozen canyons and over snow-covered hills, each step heavy and firm on the ice, their resolve unwavering.
Obsidian was very pleased with this tenacity; it was precisely the quality his followers should possess.
He hadn't been idle these past few days.
Late on the first night, as the trolls set up camp in a sheltered spot, Obsidian quietly landed on a nearby ice cliff.
He raised his massive dragon claw, and shadow divine power silently permeated the cold soil, instantly causing the snow worms and ice wolves within a radius of several miles to feel an invisible pressure and flee.
These trolls were already in a difficult situation; there was no need for wild beasts to prematurely exhaust their strength.
By the second day, when Skala dispatched scouts to search for prey, Obsidian deliberately guided them to discover a clear set of hoofprints in the snow—those left by the injured Mammoth.
As for that blue Proto-Dragon?
Obsidian's lips curled slightly, revealing a cold smile.
That was a "gift" he had specifically lured from the distant Storm Peaks.
He used his dragon's might to force this Proto-Dragon, which should have resided in Storm Peaks, into a frenzy, and then quietly implanted a shadow crystal beneath its scales.
At this moment, this massive beast was suffering from corrosive energy, its body twisting in agony, able only to blindly vent its rage on everything around it; the innocent trolls, having just completed their hunt, unfortunately became its targets.
If the Mammoth was his trial, then the Proto-Dragon was his tool to display his might.
"It's time to reel them in."
Obsidian spread his broad wings and slowly lowered his flying altitude.
Skala's throat churned, and the smell of blood rushed to his head.
The battlefield had already descended into chaos: the Proto-Dragon was tearing at the Mammoth's corpse, the trolls were scattering in terror, and Skala was desperately trying to regroup his team.
His right arm burned with unbearable pain; the Proto-Dragon's claw had almost torn his shoulder apart.
Gulen, beside him, was in an even worse state; his leg had been heavily struck by the dragon's tail, his bones likely fractured, and he was now gritting his teeth, supporting himself with a spear, his face ashen.
"Disperse! Don't gather together!" Skala commanded hoarsely, his voice almost swallowed by the howling wind and snow.
The trolls reluctantly obeyed, but despair had already crept into their eyes like a persistent disease.
They had just endured a bloody battle with a Mammoth, and fresh blood still stained their bodies; now they had to face a maddened Proto-Dragon?
This was not a hunt; it was clearly a unilateral slaughter.
The Proto-Dragon suddenly lifted its hideous head, the muscles in its neck tensing like a drawn bowstring.
It opened its gaping maw, and a piercing shriek ripped through the silence of the snowy plain, shaking the surrounding snow down in a flurry.
Between the gaps in its ice-blue scales, an eerie black mist seeped out like a living thing, twisting and writhing in the cold wind.
This massive beast struggled in pain, its thick dragon tail carving deep furrows in the snow, as if to tear the earth apart.
Its movements were chaotic, yet carried a chilling madness.
Each lunge seemed to be a suicidal attack, completely disregarding its own injuries.
Skala seized the moment it roared with its head thrown back, and sharply stepped forward three paces. The snow under his feet let out a painful "crunch."
He tensed the muscles in his right arm, veins bulging, and swung the bone spear in his hand in a perfect arc.
"Die!"
The bone spear cut through the air, its tip glinting coldly, aiming directly for the Proto-Dragon's amber right eye.
Just as the spear tip was less than three inches from the dragon's eye, the Proto-Dragon suddenly snapped its lower jaw shut with astonishing speed. With a sharp "crack," the hard bone spear shattered into countless fragments between its dragon teeth, scattering in all directions.
"Roar—!"
The Proto-Dragon let out another earth-shattering roar, its massive body rolling in the snow, sending the surrounding trolls flying.
Skala stumbled backward, his feet slipping on the blood-stained snow.
His vision was blurred by sweat and blood, yet he could still see the Proto-Dragon pawing at the ground with its hind claws, black mist surging beneath its ice-blue scales—a prelude to a deadly charge.
"It's over…" This thought pierced his mind like an ice pick.
They had just endured a bloody battle, half their warriors were wounded, and their weapons were scarce. Gulen had a broken leg and was gasping for breath against a rock wall; Toka, the young hunter, had been struck by the dragon's tail, his chest caved in; even Gollon, the bravest warrior, had lost his right arm and was using a belt to tightly bind the gushing wound.
The Proto-Dragon let out a victorious hiss, its hind leg muscles tensed—
Suddenly, time seemed to freeze.
Falling snowflakes hung motionless in mid-air, and the howling cold wind abruptly ceased.
The Proto-Dragon remained frozen in its charging posture, the madness receding from its amber dragon eyes, replaced by… fear?
Shadow enveloped the entire snowy plain.
A black dragon, several times larger than the Proto-Dragon, descended from the sky, its dark scales devouring all light. He merely lifted his front claw and gently pressed down—
"Boom!"
The Proto-Dragon crashed to its knees as if crushed by a mountain, its blue scales shattering inch by inch.
The eerie black scale on its neck suddenly glowed with dark gold patterns, and the Proto-Dragon immediately let out a mournful wail, its massive body beginning to twitch uncontrollably.
"Quiet."
Obsidian, the black dragon, snorted softly, his claw tip slightly hooked. The black scale flew out in response, bringing with it a spray of dragon blood.
The Proto-Dragon immediately collapsed to the ground, like a snake with its spine removed.
The trolls stood frozen in place like ice statues. Some of them had witnessed divine punishment brought down by a loa, but the scene before them now transcended their understanding of fear.
The appearance of Obsidian, the black dragon, was not only an absolute suppression of the Proto-Dragon but also a profound deterrent to all trolls.
His presence, as if the supreme sovereign of this snowy plain, made all living beings tremble under his majesty.
Despair and powerlessness filled the trolls' eyes; they understood that any resistance was futile against such immense power.
The air in the snowy forest was suffocatingly heavy; every snowflake, every wisp of cold wind seemed to be imprisoned by the black dragon's aura, unable to move.
"Clatter."
An amulet dropped from one of the trolls' hands onto the snow, breaking the deathly silence.
Then the wind and snow began to flow again.
Skala stood frozen, watching the Proto-Dragon that had almost annihilated them, now cowering and trembling like a cub beneath the black dragon's claw. His cracked lips trembled, but he could not utter a sound.
Obsidian lowered his head, his golden vertical pupils staring directly at the injured troll warrior:
"Do you want power?" he asked slowly, "Do you want… the right to live?"
Skala stared at him, squeezing out a few hoarse syllables from his throat: "…Who are you?"
Obsidian bared his teeth, revealing his stark white fangs.
"Your new God."