“Everyone, would you like to come at me one by one,”
“or all at once?”
Sweeping his gaze briefly over them, Christine considered his options and spoke in a cool, calm tone.
Though his voice was not loud, it carried the undeniable authority of a superior issuing an order.
It was as if he were not the one surrounded, but rather he who had surrounded Fido and the others.
“Your Excellency, there is no need for this.”
Fido took half a step back on his own initiative and raised his right hand in a unique salute. When he looked up, a fake smile was plastered on his face, his sharp heterochromatic red-and-gold eyes locked tightly onto the female elf before him.
With his toothy maw, he said, “We have no intention of making an enemy of you.”
“Seeing how harmoniously you got along with Lord Daviel just now, I believe there might be some misunderstanding between us.”
“To avoid deepening this misunderstanding and causing unnecessary casualties, please wait here for a moment. Our Queen has some private matters to attend to first.”
“She will speak with you in detail personally in a moment.”
Having said this, Fido shot a glance at Arthas and Gar. The three of them retreated another half-step in unison, outwardly signaling that they harbored no ill intent.
Secretly, however, their muscles were coiled tight.
The moment this elven mage made a suspicious move, they would spring into action, using every method at their disposal to completely subdue him.
If circumstances did not permit, they would kill him at all costs.
This was the order they had just received, sent via telepathy by Irene as she dragged Daviel away.
To the relief of Fido and the others, the elven mage did not seem to have any intention of fighting. Instead, he sat back down on the stone chair, pulled out the nearly finished knit hat, and began to knit with practiced ease.
However, his golden eyes would occasionally drift toward a certain direction.
It was the direction in which Irene had dragged Daviel away.
Christine felt a pang of worry for his two dragon hatchlings, fearing that the siblings might clash because of him.
At the same time, he wondered whether he should reveal his identity to them.
Even though they outwardly manifested the bloodline of black dragons, they were ultimately his children—the offspring of the Phantom Dragon, Night Stalker, Friend of the Forest, and Ice Plains Wanderer, Christine De'Icaro Neve Hitlista. His blood flowed through their veins as well.
But as a naturally sensitive and sentimental half-white dragon, he was terrified of acknowledging them. He had no idea how to face them as a father.
He had been entirely absent during their upbringing. Christine felt that suddenly appearing out of nowhere and telling them, “I'm your father,” would be far too abrupt.
He had originally planned to linger near the two dragon hatchlings, gradually familiarizing himself with their personalities and habits, and wait for the right moment to reveal the truth.
He just hadn't expected that plans would fail to keep up with reality...
Lost in thought, Christine suddenly felt a sharp prick on his finger.
Looking down, he saw that his left thumb had been pricked by a silver needle. A bead of blood welled up and dripped onto the top of the nearly finished green knit hat.
It stained the pom-pom on top a vivid, blood-red color.
It was like a vibrant rose suddenly blooming amidst a patch of lush green grass.
Out of habit, Christine put his injured thumb into his mouth, gently licking away the oozing dragon blood. Looking at this piece he had worked so hard to knit, a rare trace of sorrow appeared on his beautiful face.
His long eyelashes fluttered downward.
Glistening tears seemed to well up in his eyes.
It was hard to tell whether this sentimental half-white dragon was sad because the work he had poured so much effort into now had a blemish, or because his children were right before his eyes, yet he did not dare to claim them.
...
In the wind-swept desert, an invisible magical barrier shut out all external prying eyes and sounds, serving as the sole sanctuary amidst the swirling sands.
“I have finished speaking.”
Irene crossed her arms, propping up her already well-developed chest, her cold, brilliant golden eyes staring at the terrifying black dragon lying before her, which had clearly undergone some unknown mutation.
As their eyes met, she spoke her next words in a completely emotionless tone: “Daviel Greg Christina, make your choice.”
Just now, Irene had told this brother, with whom she had lived for over half a century, everything she knew—the true history and her own origins.
She had given Daviel the chance to make a choice.
Either lie low and grow stronger with her, uncover the truth behind the disappearance of the gods, and then find a way to destroy them to complete the unfinished mission from her past life—
—or stand against her and side with the gods.
This was perhaps Irene's final act of tenderness toward her brother.
If his answer was not what she wanted, she would imprison him forever.
If circumstances did not allow...
She would have to do whatever it took to deal with this dragon brother who had accompanied her for so many years.
She would kill him on the spot!
She could rely on the power of faith accumulated in her body, combined with her memories of how to develop and utilize it from her past life.
Additionally, she had the support of Fido and the others.
Slaying a dragon would certainly pose some difficulty.
Even so, she was confident she could prevent Daviel from leaving the God-Forsaken Land alive.
This confidence stemmed from her deep understanding of her brother.
Living together for so many years had allowed her to thoroughly understand all of his strengths and weaknesses.
She knew his most fatal vulnerabilities.
Yet, the thought of personally killing the foolish black dragon before her eyes filled her with dread.
Irene's expression grew increasingly dark.
Whoosh—
The wind and sand outside the barrier grew even more violent. The howling gale whipped fine sand and pebbles against the elemental magic barrier, creating a continuous pattering sound.
It sounded like a chaotic symphony.
Yet, this "symphony" could not penetrate the barrier in the slightest, unable to affect anything within.
Inside the barrier, it was terrifyingly quiet.
Daviel did not speak.
He simply stared straight at Irene.
His massive body lay sprawled on the sand, as motionless as a sculpture.
Silence...
A long, heavy silence...
Suddenly,
Daviel moved.
He pushed himself up with his robust forelimbs and rose from the ground.
His crimson eyes, which were even larger than lanterns, looked down from above at the tiny figure beneath him.
His expression was unexpectedly calm.
Terrifyingly calm.
He was like a king cobra that had locked onto its prey, spreading his leathery wings as he prepared to deliver a fatal strike.
Irene had never seen Daviel look so serious.
In her memory, this goofy dragon was just like a husky—always silly and dim-witted.
“Sis...” Daviel parted his jaws, revealing his razor-sharp fangs as he asked, “Are you kidding me?”
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