Chapter 582: The 300 Year Old Dragon

The young dragons were vicious, their eyes blazing with hostility as they tore and bit at him without restraint. This was typical behavior among young dragons, who competed fiercely to sharpen their combat skills. The mottled scars on the dragon's head were bloody reminders of its youth.

As time dragged on, the other young dragons grew rapidly, each eventually bonding with a rider. The green dragon, however, lagged behind, developing at a painfully slow pace. While other dragonlets left the Dragonpit, making way for the second and third batches to hatch, the green dragon remained, its peers changing with each new group. Scars multiplied on its body, marking the passage of time.

After nearly a hundred cycles of frost in the Dragonpit, the green dragon finally matured into adulthood. During this period, the red-robed wizard appeared twice but was never seen again. Not long after, several silver-haired figures arrived to tame dragons, and a timid one chose the outcast. Rhaegar observed as Uragax was ridden for the first time, soaring into the sky for its maiden flight.

Years passed, and though the so-called freak among dragons continued to grow slowly as an adult, it was scorned by its rider. The thin, silver-haired figure eventually stopped riding his dragon. Free to fly as it pleased, the dragon left the fourteen massive volcanoes, home to its kind, and returned by memory to its birthplace.

At this point, the images in the dream grew fragmented. Rhaegar tilted his head and caught sight of a distant flash of red light. The fire magic in the air dwindled sharply, becoming scarce.

"The Doom," Rhaegar murmured, understanding the significance. He released the rope and approached the scarred, uneven head of the dark green dragon. Its head was long and dry, with a sparse crown of horns, only a pair of curved horns extending from its cheeks. Its entire body was dark brown, with sharp tips that were milky yellow.

Uragax lay in the mud, its wounds oozing dragon blood that turned the muddy water red, the heat causing blisters to form and smoke to rise.

"Roar!" The dragon groaned in pain, its pupils fixed on the silver-haired figure above it. Once, a similar silver-haired figure had rescued it from a dark crypt, but both were equally despised by the dragon.

Rhaegar's expression was conflicted. He gently rubbed the scales on the dragon's forehead and sighed, "Old fellow, you're actually 300 years old."

From the time of hatching, a dragon's life could be roughly divided into two parts: a hundred years of struggle during the sub-adult stage, and two hundred years of adulthood in the wild. The dragon beneath him was now an adult, just entering its prime.

"Roar..." Uragax growled, slowly shifting its gaze before lying down in the ruins with a weakened posture. The once fiery and hateful eyes were now dull and numb. It had lived too long, its spirit and vitality worn away.

Rhaegar hesitated, then opened the explorer panel. He glanced at it and noticed a special relic:

[Dragon Essence]

Level: Legendary (Red)

Function: Increases the growth rate of dragons (only for dragons below the adult stage)

Comment: "The size of a dragon increases with age. One dragon lived to be 300 years old."

Rhaegar sat down and sighed. "A freak of a dragon, inheriting the essence of an old dragon, its body has undergone a mutation."

The state of the pale dragon was clearly abnormal. Its innate talent was undeniable; otherwise, it wouldn't have grown so large. But the cost had been immense, leaving it to linger in a wretched condition. One victim had been sacrificed to replace another failure. Uragax, having traded its growth cycle for longevity, had become a pitiful specimen in an experiment.

"Damn that evil sorcerer!" Rhaegar cursed, slamming his fist into the dragon's thick scales, his heart filled with hate. Dragons were sacred magical creatures, not meant to be exploited and mutilated.

"Roar..." Uragax's thunderous roar echoed through the rainy night as the Cannibal circled overhead, its green pupils flashing with sinister intent. Uragax's body tensed, its right wing sinking into the mud as it struggled to rise and fight back.

"Quiet!" Rhaegar commanded, his voice cutting through the tension, forcing both dragons into submission. The wild dragon would have to be tamed under the Targaryen name. There would be no room for recklessness.

"Roar!" Cannibal let out a low, menacing growl, circling once before descending slowly to snatch up a bloody chunk of dragon meat, chewing it with deliberate slowness.

"Roar!" Uragax's fury surged, and it issued a warning growl, despite the pain from its exposed, bony right hind leg.

"Behave yourself, Uragax!" Rhaegar spread his legs and brandished his dragon-taming whip. Uragax was in bad shape—its chest and belly were drenched in blood, its left wing was nearly shattered, and its right hind leg was almost severed. One more round of fighting, and it would have been fatal.

"Roar!" Cannibal's green eyes flickered darkly as it swallowed a large piece of flesh, then vanished into the darkness like a ghostly predator. Rhaegar and Uragax both exhaled in relief, wary that the Cannibal might not relinquish its meal so easily.

"Brother!"

"Roar!" Daeron rode the unsteady Tessarion through the rain.

"Roar!" As soon as Uragax caught sight of the cobalt blue young dragon, it was triggered, summoning every ounce of strength to lunge forward, attempting to bite.

"Stop!" Rhaegar's whip cracked against the bloody dragon's maw. Tessarion snorted and dodged the snapping jaws, nearly dislodging Daeron from the saddle.

Holding a black egg in his hands, Daeron beamed, "Brother, I'm so glad you're all right." He urged Tessarion to land and handed the black egg to the dark green dragon.

Rhaegar, eyeing the injured dragon, asked, "Do you have any more eggs in your nest?" Uragax, a dragon from one of the Dragonlord houses, had a mysterious lineage, distinct from the dragons of House Targaryen. Given its unique parentage, it was uncertain whether its offspring would inherit longevity.

"Roar..." Uragax hesitated, then shook its massive head.

"No?" Rhaegar remained skeptical. It was rare for a dragon to lay only one egg in a clutch.

"Roar..." Uragax buried its head in the mud, refusing to answer any further questions from the silver-haired figure. Without a bond between them, there was no trust. Rhaegar dismounted, half-believing and half-doubting. If there were no more eggs, so be it. He had all he needed.

"Brother, look at this." Daeron approached, offering a blue-green crystal he had retrieved from his pocket.

"Where did you get it?" Rhaegar frowned, sensing something unusual. The crystal seemed to be a special mineral, though its purpose was unclear.

"Tessarion brought it back," Daeron admitted, scratching his head in embarrassment. "He raided a wild dragon's nest and stole the dragon eggs." If Tessarion hadn't stirred up trouble, there might have been no danger tonight.

"Well done." Rhaegar smiled and patted his younger brother's shoulder. "Without that, we wouldn't have been able to catch the old one." Daeron lowered his head, still feeling guilty.

Rhaegar took the egg and crystal, wiping the sweat from his brow. "I'm a bit tired." After this dream, his Spirit power had grown stronger, and the spatial inscriptions had sparked new ideas. But this rapid mental activity was draining his energy.

Daeron said nothing, only helping his brother back to his feet.

"Roar!" Tessarion whined, hovering above the two brothers, occasionally casting nervous glances at the massive beast nearby.

Hoo-hoo-hoo!

The night sky darkened further, and a shadowy dragon form streaked by, leaving behind an eerie trail of green light.

...

The night was on the verge of giving way to dawn, yet the sky remained shrouded in gloom as heavy rain poured down. On a low hill, a crypt lay exposed. Charred deadwood, ignited earlier, toppled over, and when the flames met the rain, they hissed and sent up plumes of black smoke that crackled with embers.

Splash!

A massive creature flew by silently, sending a torrent of rain cascading in its wake. A thunderclap resounded—

Crack!

—briefly illuminating the chaotic world below. A shadow pierced the clouds, then vanished into the forest. It circled the crypt without stopping, as if wary of some unseen presence.

Time passed.

The rumbling of thunder grew louder as the rain intensified, and lightning streaked across the sky. The ditch in front of the crypt filled with murky water, which seeped into the cave through a narrow branch.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck. A long, pale tail slithered through the sewage and disappeared swiftly into the damp cave. Moments later, a crackling sound echoed—something was being crushed and devoured.

"Roar..."

The rain swirled, churning the fog, as a gaunt shadow with tattered wings spread wide and vanished into the night sky.

(Word count: 1,471)