Chapter 485: The Missing Duke

"ROAR—" A savage roar that resonated through heaven and earth once again forcefully pulled everyone's eyes back to the skies.

The clash of the masters of the air had begun, just as everyone had anticipated.

The pursued red dragon seemed intent on escaping, attempting to maneuver around Deathwing.

But the larger form of the adversary undoubtedly created an insurmountable barrier.

Deathwing's wings, like a wall, filled the young red dragon's entire field of view, giving it an illusion that it couldn't pass without taking down its foe.

A dragon's breath was released, and the somewhat dazed red dragon seemed to think it could burn away Deathwing's wings with a blast of fire.

Deathwing let out a contemptuous laugh from its maw, a clear mockery. With a flap of its wings, like snuffing out a small candle flame, a powerful sweep dispersed the dragon's breath.

To the gryphons, this larger red dragon was undoubtedly experienced. But facing an ancient guardian dragon, more cunning and sharp, its attacks seemed childish. As it spewed dragon's breath, it left itself exposed, and its closest wing easily became a target.

Originally, Deathwing could have simply extended its left claw to tear the wing, greatly reducing its opponent's aerial agility. Unexpectedly, Deathwing chose to pull in its left claw, folding it to its chest, and instead, with a sweeping tail, lashed at the red dragon, forcing it away.

The movement was awkward. If one didn't look closely, it might seem that its left claw had been gravely wounded earlier, immobilized.

Deathwing was not injured, but why did it retreat?

At first, Vereesa thought she had seen wrong, but as she watched, she found Deathwing's attack pattern was indeed strange.

As a dragon that had practically lived for battle, Deathwing used all its weapons—mouth, tail, wings, legs, right claw—for attack. All except its left claw.

Deathwing's agile movements, like a storm, showed no signs of injury, but its left claw remained tight against its body.

At a glance, it gave the feeling of 'a master bullying a novice, I'll give you one hand.'

Clearly, Deathwing was not a dragon with a sense of honor. This could be seen from how it killed a young dragon right at the beginning.

"Why?" Vereesa muttered to herself. "Why do this?"

Falstad thought Vereesa was complaining about his decision to retreat from the battlefield, and he shouted, "Sorry! This is no battle for mortals; all we can do here is wait for death. Hold tight to the saddle, Elf lady! First, we must leave!"

Leave? What about Duke?

The words struck Vereesa at her most vulnerable.

"No! Wait! Where's Duke? Where is Duke?" Vereesa screamed, tears streaming down her face. "Falstad, would you abandon our comrade out of fear?"

Seeing Vereesa's tears, the Dwarf's heart broke.

"Fear? No! Falstad has never feared death. But look, all who are alive are here! There's no one else! Those who aren't here are dead! Turned to ashes, you know!" The Dwarf swung his fist, tears streaking his rugged face.

Vereesa, too agitated to notice the Dwarf's change in referring to Duke, turned back to the battle in the sky, now reaching its climax.

Deathwing seized the opportunity, its long tail hooking its inexperienced opponent's head.

The red dragon lost balance in mid-air.

Deathwing's vast wings, tinged with dark red, enveloped the red dragon, and a sudden swipe of its right claw tore the red dragon's wing, causing its desperate attempts to regain balance to fail.

With a mighty pull, the red dragon's defenseless back and exposed neck were laid bare...

"Fly up, quick! Quick! Quick!" Falstad urged his gryphon. "If we don't leave now, we're done for!"

The gryphon used all its might, risking cramping, to fly away from the battlefield at its fastest speed.

Vereesa twisted her head, watching the battle intently.

Deathwing bit into the red dragon's neck, and a crunching sound followed.

Blood spattered.

Bones shattered.

It all sounded so horrifying.

Then, with the help of her dark vision, Vereesa saw a shower of deep red rain fall, the blood from the dragon's neck spilled between heaven and earth.

The red dragon writhed desperately, futilely struggling until it finally plummeted to the ground.

The seemingly fierce battle lasted less than two minutes, perhaps even less than a minute. In that brief time, two red dragons, capable of wiping out the entire gryphon squadron, were effortlessly slaughtered by Deathwing.

"It's over! It's our turn next!" Falstad murmured in despair.

Strangely, Deathwing didn't pursue the gryphons. It stared at its left claw, as if something were inside.

Something? Or someone?

Without even a glance at the scattered gryphons, the black dragon abruptly turned and flew southeast toward the Wetlands' Stonewrought Dam.

As its massive figure swiftly disappeared from the Elf ranger's view, Vereesa noticed that its left claw remained closed, as if protecting something precious.

Finally, Vereesa realized what was on Deathwing's claw!

"Duke—Deathwing has taken Duke! Falstad! We must chase it!"

The Dwarf looked incredulously at Vereesa, his mouth agape in shock, as if it could fit a seven-pound cannonball.

When he saw the determination in Vereesa's face, he swallowed hard, "I'm indeed a brave warrior, my Elf lady, but I must remind you again, this is madness!"