Whoosh!
As the wooden sword cut through air—the full chest line violently trembled within the overlapping fabric.
Sweat slid down her collarbone—into a glimpsed crevice.
Yet her expression remained cold—crimson eyes fixed on the blade tip—making this sensuality even more forbidden.
"Nine hundred ninety-seven…"
Breathing grew rapid—martial outfit collar loosened slightly—swaying with thrusts, revealing a dazzling flash of white flesh.
A girl's unique elasticity outlined heart-stopping contours under fabric—yet she was oblivious, stubbornly repeating basic moves.
Seeing this—Black instinctively recalled last night's soft sensation.
No improper thoughts.
He instantly crushed his fantasy.
But he had to admit—Alice's looks and figure were flawless.
With this youthful charm—if she wore a school uniform? A pure high school girl.
Putting aside these thoughts—Black carefully observed Alice's spirit energy fluctuations.
After entering Flow State—and several battles—his understanding of spirit energy use deepened.
Especially in Flow State—he'd seen how spirit energy flowed:
The most efficient way to maximize move power.
Now—even if he called himself a sword master, it wouldn't be wrong.
To Black—Alice still had the same problem as before.
Each slash—spirit energy overflowed, less than half the sword qi reaching the dummy.
Too rigid. Too stiff. Too brute-force.
She still didn't understand flexibility in spirit energy use.
"Cough cough—Your Highness—if you keep training like this—you won't improve much."
Black spoke up—this was slightly offensive.
But he believed—given Alice's obsession with swordsmanship—she wouldn't mind.
Sure enough—she stopped, staring at him.
"Why do you say that?"
Before—she'd ignore him.
But after seeing Black's sword art in the Azure Martial Duel—she had to admit—he was above her.
"Your spirit energy usage is too rigid."
Black walked beside her—slowly speaking.
"Rigid?"
Alice didn't understand—but didn't argue.
She recalled someone said similar things before.
But…
"But the royal sword manual says so."
As a hardworking student with average talent—Alice always believed textbooks were right.
Hearing this—Black sighed inwardly.
Alice's mistake was classic—like diligent students with mediocre grades.
They read books to death.
As the saying goes: "Believe everything in books—better have no books."
Flexible application is humanity's greatest advantage.
"Your Highness—lend me your sword."
Black took the sword from Alice.
Took a deep breath—lowered his stance—recalling the spirit energy flow from past battles.
Then—a sudden strike—the longsword pierced the training dummy with fierce momentum!
Smooth as flowing water—sword like a dragon—Alice's face shifted slightly.
"Your Highness—how was my strike?"
Black sheathed the sword—facing Alice.
"A powerful strike… Though only Level 10—its power rivals an average Level 20 swordsman's."
"You… how did you do it?"
Alice's eyes burned—like a diligent student.
"Simple—just achieve what I call Man-Sword Unity."
Black replied—he named it himself.
"Man-Sword Unity?"
Trained by elite royal instructors—read countless books—yet never heard this term.
"If according to your books—when striking—most spirit energy must be poured into the weapon—to maximize its power?"
"That's correct."
Alice nodded.
"Theoretically—yes. Weapon material ensures it's far stronger than the human body."
"But have you considered—this limits your attack by the weapon's instant spirit energy capacity and end control? Forcing infusion risks energy dispersion?"
Black said seriously.
Not just combat experience—game world lore confirmed this.
"When you used the slash skill—didn't you notice your spirit energy constantly dispersing?"
Hearing this—Alice fell silent.
Though not fully convinced—her spirit energy was dispersing.
She knew—textbooks called it normal—so ignored it.
"Are you saying—this 'Man-Sword Unity' can solve this?"
Alice stared—voice full of doubt.
"Exactly."
Black nodded—continued:
"Has Your Highness ever thought—instead of pouring all energy into the weapon—split it—infuse parts into body and weapon?"
"This solves energy dispersion—and maximizes efficiency."
Listening—Alice's delicate brows furrowed tighter.
According to her education—this "Man-Sword Unity" was absurd.
"If Your Highness doesn't understand—answer one question: When striking—do you simply swing arm and wrist?"
"…Yes."
"Try this—treat your sword and body as one whole. Or imagine—you are a sword."
A sword?
Alice thought Black was outlandish—unbelievable.
"Treat yourself as a sword—infuse spirit energy into various body parts. Change the strike—from merely swinging arm—to foot initiating, hip coiling, shoulder transmitting, arm guiding, weapon releasing energy at the end."
"Thus—your spirit energy chain shifts from mere arm—to full-body transport."
"Ponderous energy drawn from origin—integrated, transmitted, amplified layer by layer—finally explodes at weapon's end!"
"Power far exceeds simple weapon coverage—at least 20% higher!"
Black explained the principle thoroughly.
This wasn't his own idea—but from the Dragonblood Official Lore Compilation.
To help players understand—devs used a badminton example:
Everyone knows—if you only use wrist and arm in badminton—your racket lacks power.
The ball flies slowly—easy to catch.
And you'll tire in one or two hours.
Standard badminton motion:
Push off ground (legs) → Rotate hips/body (core) → Shoulder extension (back/shoulder) → Arm swing (upper arm) → Elbow bend (forearm) → Wrist twist/fingers (wrist/fingers) → Racket head hits ball.
This game world's highest-efficiency spirit energy use? Same principle.
Seeing Black speak so detailed, so serious—Alice believed partially.
"Your Highness—why not try? I'm not skilled—but can serve as your sword instructor."
"Sire, why not give it a try? I'm no expert—but can serve as your sword instructor."
Sword instructor?
Alice raised an eyebrow—so Black's audacity grew by the day.
She stared at him—the rare seriousness and confidence in his eyes made her temporarily suppress her instinctive resistance to the term "sword instructor".
She truly craved strength—and this seemingly carefree guard had indeed used swordsmanship to counter-kill powerful Seth.
"Fine."
Following Black's description—Alice slowly closed her eyes—trying to sense the flow of spirit energy within her body—and imagine herself as a sharp blade.
Yet—years of habit couldn't change overnight.
Her posture still carried the rigid traces of the royal sword manual—spirit energy circulation obscure, hard to transmit along new paths.
Seeing this—Black knew words weren't enough.
After slight hesitation—he stepped forward: "Sire—forgive me."
He reached out—gently holding Alice's wrist gripping the sword.
At the touch—both froze.
Alice's wrist was slender yet strong—carrying the subtle toughness of a swordsman.
Black's fingertips were slightly rough.
A subtle electric current seemed to spread from the contact point—Alice's long lashes flickered imperceptibly—but she didn't open her eyes or scold.
Black steadied himself—cleared his mind—began adjusting her movements.
His other hand hovered near her elbow—guiding it to a more force-efficient angle.
"Here—elbow lower by three points."
His voice was close—his breath almost brushing Alice's ear.
Her body instinctively tensed—but forced herself to relax—following his guidance.
Then—Black's hand gently pressed on her shoulder blade—feeling her muscle state.
"Relax your shoulders—they're just a channel."
The touch was polite, restrained—only for necessary posture correction.
That warm palm made Alice feel slightly hot where touched.
The most awkward part came next.
To correct her body rotation issue—Black had to stand behind her side—almost half-encircling her.
His arms passed around Alice—palms lightly touching the corset at her waist—guiding her to feel the starting point of core power.
"Power starts here."
His voice was low—right behind her ear.
"Imagine spirit energy rising from your feet—twisting through here—transmitting to shoulder and arm…"
Their bodies pressed close.
Black could smell the cold fragrance in her hair—feel her body's subtle tremors.
Alice could feel the male warmth radiating from behind.
An unprecedented intimacy silently spread in the quiet training ground—air seeming thicker.
Alice's ear tips faintly reddened—lips tightly pressed—as she fully focused on the power flow guided by Black.
"Try slashing once—remember this feeling—whole body as one—sword as extension."
Black stepped back half a step—giving her space—eyes locked on her movements.
Alice took a deep breath—cleared the strange thoughts in her heart.
Recalling Black's guided sequence: push off ground, rotate hips, extend shoulder, swing arm…
Imagining herself as a blade about to be drawn—spirit energy no longer blindly surging to the blade—but orderly infusing, filling, transmitting to every joint and muscle involved in power generation.
She suddenly opened her eyes—crimson pupils flashing—her longsword slashed down!
Shhh!
A far more condensed, sharp sword qi tore through air—precisely striking the training dummy.
Boom! A dull thud—the sword mark on the dummy nearly doubled in depth!
And spirit energy dispersion greatly reduced—most power solidly impacting the target.
"This!"
Alice looked at her hand—then at the deep mark—incredulous.
Her cold face rarely showed astonishment and undeniable joy.
This strike's power far exceeded her usual practice level!
She instinctively turned to Black—eyes shining brightly—like a child discovering a new continent.
"I did it? I really—"
Joy made her forget her usual dignity—for a moment.
But remembering the too-close guidance—cheeks warmed—she quickly regained composure.
Back to her cold, elegant self—though joy lingered in her eyes.
"Sire is naturally gifted—understands instantly."
Black smiled, praising.
When Alice smiled—she was brightly beautiful—so stunning he nearly suffocated.
So different from her usual icy demeanor.
If this princess smiled more… he thought sincerely.
"Why not try again—reinforce the feeling."
Alice nodded—suppressing inner fluctuations—focused again—recalling that perfect sensation—trying to reproduce that flawless strike.
Yet—that mysterious state seemed hard to capture.
Later attempts—either too deliberate, making movements stiff.
Or subconsciously returning to old patterns.
The sword qi was slightly stronger than initially—but far less impressive—spirit energy clearly overflowing again.
Alice frowned—looking at the shallower marks—eyes flashing with frustration.
"Don't be discouraged, Sire."
Black spoke timely—voice calm.
"You succeeded once—proving this path works. Just needs more practice."
He paused—watching Alice's thoughtful profile—added:
"With diligent practice—you'll master it. Your swordsmanship will leap forward."
Alice fell silent—slowly exhaled—tightened her grip on the crimson sword.
She looked at Black—complex eyes—finally forming one simple word:
"…Thank you."
Rare—a genuine "thank you" from her.
Black marveled.
"By the way—Sire called me so early—is there something?"
Could it be another sparring session?
Without Flow State—he was just a Level 10 Swordsman.
No matter how skilled—against someone 10 levels higher—he'd be useless.
Hearing this—Alice sheathed her sword—glanced at the Imperial Winged Dragon on his shoulder.
After long hesitation—she finally said:
"I want to ask—how did you tame the Imperial Winged Dragon?"
Ah.
Black finally understood.
Of course—with Alice's pursuit of strength—asking such a question wasn't strange.
She'd even used the word "ask for advice."
Black felt Alice was losing her princess demeanor around him.
Before—she'd probably press a sword to his neck—threatening:
"Lowly pirate—speak or die. Choose."
Such a huge attitude shift—the "villainess" persona was crumbling.
"Before I answer—may I ask Your Highness one question?"
"Mm."
"In your eyes—what is this Imperial Winged Dragon to you?"
Black cradled the hatchling—gently tugging its tail—as he asked.
"…A pet. Or a combat assistant."
Alice hesitated—then spoke her mind.
She reached to stroke it—but the dragon bared fangs, hissed at her.
Seeing this—Alice's expression dimmed.
"This is why you failed."
Black said slowly.
"You always see yourself as master—forcing the Imperial Winged Dragon to submit with a superior mindset—not as friend or partner."
"Thus—spirit link will inevitably fail."
Hearing this—Alice's delicate brows furrowed—teeth lightly biting her lip.
"But my instructor said—dragons are defiant, self-centered beings. If not forced into submission—we can't guarantee their cooperation in battle."
"And I've tamed other Winged Dragons before—using the same spirit link method. Just don't know why it doesn't work on the Imperial Winged Dragon."
Sigh.
Black wanted to sigh. Alice's biggest problem was here.
Lacking independent thought—too reliant on books and instructors.
Mind too rigid.
"Your instructor has a point—but has Your Highness noticed? The Winged Dragons you tamed—do they really assist well in battle?"
"Do they sometimes ignore your orders?"
Alice looked surprised.
"…How do you know?"
Once—she tamed a Fire God Winged Dragon—far weaker than Imperial, but still powerful. She was quite happy.
Yet in later battles—she found it only used half its power.
Finally—just quit—ignoring her commands.
So hearing Black say this—she was truly shocked.
"When you force them into submission via spirit link—even if successful—they're unwilling. Naturally, they won't cooperate."
"Moreover—the Imperial Winged Dragon is king of all Winged Dragons—born proud. Would it willingly become a human's subordinate?"
"That's why you failed. Now—I can answer your question. The main reason I tamed it? I treated it as a friend—with equality."
Black said slowly.
He used the hidden taming method.
Its core? Equality and respect.
Other details could vary.
Releasing it from the cage? Not important.
What mattered—the meaning behind the act: showing you don't treat it as a pet.
But as a friend.
After all—no one locks up a stranger—forcing them to be friends.
This was the official game explanation.
"Friend?"
Alice's beautiful face showed utter confusion—Black's words shattered her worldview.
Treat a winged dragon as a friend?
If her instructor heard this—he'd harshly criticize Black as a heretic.
But seeing the dragon show no aversion to Black's touch—enjoying it—
Alice didn't know how to argue. After all—the Imperial Winged Dragon was the hardest to tame.
She believed it—partially.
"Then… how do I… become their friend?"
Seeing Alice ask this—Black was very pleased.
Good, good—young one is teachable!
He felt like a qualified teacher.
"Simple. Sire—try treating this hatchling as a human child. Be friendly."
Black gently lifted the Imperial Winged Dragon—the little one flapped wings—nuzzling his chin affectionately.
Alice hesitated—trying to imagine it as a cute human child.
She slowly raised her hand—copied Black—palm up, fingers relaxed—approaching the dragon.
The dragon tilted its head—golden pupils flashing caution.
"Relax," Black whispered. "Imagine playing with a child—not taming a dragon."
Alice took a deep breath—softened her expression.
She tried to smile—a slightly awkward one.
"…Hello?"
She spoke softly—voice much gentler than usual.
The dragon's tail swayed—seeming surprised.
It cautiously extended its head—sniffed Alice's fingertips.
"It's already accepting your scent."
Black murmured.
Alice held her breath—fingers trembling slightly.
She felt the dragon's warm breath on her skin—scales cool, smooth.
First time observing a Winged Dragon so closely.
Before—she only considered how to tame it, make it her weapon.
Now—she suddenly noticed—the hatchling had expressions. Its mouth twitched—licking her fingers—like smiling.
"It… seems to be smiling."
She couldn't help saying.
Black nodded.
"Because it's not a tool, Sire. It's a living being—with its own joys and sorrows."
The dragon seemed to understand—suddenly spread wings—lightly landing on Alice's head.
It treated her soft hair as a blanket—lying comfortably.
Alice froze—afraid to disturb it.
The weight was light—claws carefully retracted—didn't hurt her.
"It…!"
Her voice trembled with joy.
"Congratulations, Sire—it's accepted you."
"If you meet another Imperial Winged Dragon—try this method. Treat them as partners—and you'll succeed."
Black said sincerely.
His honest opinion. With Alice's talent—she just needed this one step.
Alice nodded—eyes shining with unprecedented light.
She touched the little dragon—softly: "Thank you."
Hey—how many thanks today?
This girl's gotten much more polite.
All thanks to my teaching!
Black was very pleased—about to modestly show his high moral character as a teacher.
Then—suddenly—disaster struck.
Pfft!
A subtle sound—then the dragon's tail lifted up. Immediately—
Splash!
A golden, runny pile precisely landed on Alice's white collar—still steaming suspiciously.
Silence.
A strange smell spread through the air.
Alice froze—pupils shaking.
She slowly looked down—at the slowly sliding pile on her chest—her expression gradually losing control.
From gentle girl—regressing to her true self.
The villainess Alice was back.
Black: "… …"
This little beast—it's doomed me.
Friend? Partner? We're not close!
He opened his mouth—closed it—finally squeezed out:
"…Accident, Sire… just an accident!"
Alice's fingertips began to tremble.
The culprit on her head had zero awareness—even let out a satisfied burp.
Affectionately nuzzled her cheek—smearing dragon feces all over her face.
"B-L-A-C-K!"
Alice's voice squeezed from between teeth—filled with unprecedented killing intent.
"Innocent, Sire!" Black stepped back three steps—hands raised.
"How was I supposed to know it'd suddenly—!"
...
When Karina arrived at the training ground—the scene shocked her.
Did she enter wrong?
Her mistress was chasing Black with a sword—no, also the hatchling.
Man and dragon fleeing frantically, extremely pathetic.
"Sire is…"
She noticed—her mistress's face and clothes were covered in something like feces—a faintly nauseating smell lingering.
No way?
Don't tell me?
After connecting terrifying dots—Karina's worldview collapsed.
Her cold, pure mistress—was no longer clean!
...
Late night—bright moon high.
Moonlight shone on dark sea—ripples glittering.
In a top-floor cabin of the Hodir.
Alice sat upright in her study—processing a mountain of documents on her desk.
Expression serious—occasionally pausing—brows furrowed in thought.
The room reeked of pear blossom perfume—as if deliberately hiding something.
An ordinary person would cover their nose.
Like Black now.
Black stood behind Alice—silently pinching his nose.
The dragon on his shoulder copied him—pinching its tiny nose.
Just as the hatchling couldn't take it—about to fly away—Black grabbed its wing, forcibly keeping it.
Hmph. This little beast made him chased by Alice, scrub decks, starve all day.
Now—midnight—can't sleep—must endure this pungent perfume.
Because of this—Black decided the dragon should feel this tired, hungry sensation too.
Gurgle.
A hungry sound—from the hatchling.
Black glared—warning: "Disturb the mistress again—we suffer more."
The dragon stuck out its tongue—innocent look.
Gurgle.
Another hungry sound—this time not the dragon's.
Black's.
Black's face darkened—lips twitching—tightened his belt silently.
"… …"
Alice's train of thought was interrupted by these two hungry sounds.
She turned—glared at Black.
Today was definitely her worst mood day.
This princess—noble status—slightly obsessive-compulsive.
After that incident—imagine the collapse.
Afterward—she bathed for five hours straight, sprayed three bottles of perfume—only then felt slightly better.
If not for Black teaching her swordsmanship and taming methods today—she'd have thrown him into the sea for sea dragons.
"Sorry, Sire—man is iron, food is steel. Skipping one meal makes you weak."
Black tried to soften the ice queen's expression.
Seeing man and dragon look so pitiful—Alice softened slightly.
After a few seconds—she stiffly pushed an untouched plate of delicate pastries to the table corner.
Eyes still on documents: "I don't like sweets… Get rid of this trash. Don't make noise."
Black blinked—then understood.
Huh? Didn't this villainess' character say she loves sweets?
So she's a little tsundere?
Of course—he wouldn't dare mock.
Silently took two pastries—one tossed to the dragon, one ate himself. Man and dragon kept quiet.
Alice glanced sideways—lips curling in a barely noticeable smile.
"You may rest."
After they finished the snacks—Alice dismissed Black.
Watching them leave—Alice's expression turned complex.
Swordsmanship. Taming methods. Black knew too much.
Too much—not like a lowborn pirate.
She'd lowered her guard—but now it rose again.
Instinct told her—Black's identity was definitely not simple.
From the start—him knowing Jörmungandr's intel was absurd.
But for some reason—she found it hard to distrust or hate Black.
She felt her feelings toward him were growing strange.
A feeling she'd never had toward any other man.
And if Black truly had ill intentions—he wouldn't go through so much trouble teaching her swordsmanship and taming.
Most importantly—his spirit energy was truly Level 10.
No matter how skilled, fast—his skill power was Level 10.
"Whatever—we'll see."
Now the fleet neared the Caribbean Sea—she had no time for other matters.
After leaving Alice's study—
Black's expression turned serious—no longer carefree.
Tonight—he had important things to do.
After returning the dragon to his room—he casually pulled out a wooden box.
Inside—was the Dragonfang Blade stolen from the Dragonblood Council.
Staring at the dagger—Black's eyes rarely showed killing intent.
Tonight—he'd use this blade to kill members of the Dragonblood Council, weakening their power.
An hour later.
Still the Hodir's cargo hold.
As usual—pitch dark—can't see fingers.
A creepy atmosphere spread.
Thump. Thump.
Black's footsteps echoed—dull, oppressive in the silence.
According to his guess—the Council shouldn't appear here tonight.
The closer to battle day—the more they'd gather in another cabin for meetings.
But after the Dragonfang Blade's disappearance—hard to guarantee plans didn't change.
So—to be safe—Black wore black clothes and a different mask, same as last time.
Even if he met the Council leader—with his knowledge of Dragonblood Council lore—he could likely bluff his way through.
Following the previous route—Black smoothly reached the end—the small room where the Dragonfang Blade was kept.
Taking a deep breath—Black tightened the Dragonfang Blade—pushed the door open.
The room shocked him.
In the empty center—a black-clad man bound to a chair.
Held by golden, intricate runes glowing mysteriously.
The man was clearly conscious—seeing Black enter—he grew extremely excited.
But couldn't move—only his mouth could barely function.
"That person wasn't me! I was framed! How could I know the Council's high-level password?!"
Ah.
Black understood.
This was Yellow Dragon.
He mistook Black for members of the Dragonblood Council.
Of course—only Council members knew this secret place.
Black ignored Yellow Dragon—circled him—staring at the runes for a long time.
High-tier binding magic, huh? No wonder it could restrain a Level 60 Assassin.
After prolonged observation—Black reached a conclusion.
The Council leader didn't punish Yellow Dragon as severely as expected.
Black's original plan? Kill him while he was severely wounded.
But now—he was fine, just tied up.
Understandable.
For the Council—the Dragonfang Blade theft was already suspicious.
When others accused Yellow Dragon—he'd naturally argue: "Someone impersonated me! I'd never steal the blade!"
But—who else could know so many passwords—pass all checkpoints—except Council members themselves?
Yet another doubt arose: Was Yellow Dragon even qualified to know the secret password "Praise the Dragon Race"?
Black pondered—roughly grasping the leader's thoughts.
The leader was clear-headed—knew the theft wasn't simple.
Now—critical moment—Yellow Dragon was their third strongest force: Level 60 High-Tier Assassin.
Losing him would sharply reduce their combat power.
Considering all this—before clearing Yellow Dragon's suspicion—just tie him up.
Smarter than seriously injuring or killing him.
Unfortunately—they calculated everything—except that suspects often return to the crime scene.
"I swear—I didn't steal the Dragonfang Blade! I'm absolutely loyal to the Council!"
Yellow Dragon shouted desperately!
He did nothing—just went to hand over the blade—then got accused of stealing it!
And Red Dragon, Blue Dragon, Purple Dragon, Green Dragon—all insisted it was him!
He was speechless with injustice!
Fortunately—after much debate—Leader Black Dragon deemed the case suspicious—only tied him up.
Said once investigated—he'd clear his name.
But no one had come to see him in ages.
So seeing Black—he was so excited, mistaking him for the Council.
"Did you finish investigating? I'm innocent, right? Let me go!"
Hearing this—Black's eyes lit up—a plan formed.
"I'm Purple Dragon—ordered by the Leader to clear your name."
He pulled out the Dragonfang Blade—revealing it before Yellow Dragon.
"!!!"
"The Dragonfang Blade! You found it?!"
Yellow Dragon first dumbfounded, then ecstatic!
"I told you—it wasn't me! The truth is out!"
"Let me go!"
Excited—he didn't suspect the identity at all.
Behind the mask—Black's lips curved slightly.
"Of course."
"I'll remove the sealing magic for you. Please relax—lower your defensive spirit energy."
Black's words were flawless.
The Purple Dragon he impersonated was a Sorcerer—High-Tier Sorcerer.
Removing high-tier binding magic? Naturally done by a High-Tier Sorcerer.
Yellow Dragon doubted nothing—exhaled deeply—muscles gradually relaxing.
Defensive spirit energy receded like tide.
Seeing this—Black slowly approached—Dragonfang Blade gleaming coldly in dim light.
"Then trouble you… I knew the Leader was perceptive."
He closed his eyes—relieved—muttering resentfully:
"After I get out—I'll settle scores with Red Dragon!"
To Yellow Dragon—the Dragonfang Blade was Red Dragon's carelessness—not carefully verifying—giving it away.
Now—he took the blame.
But before he finished speaking—
Thud!
A muscle-tearing sound suddenly echoed—loud in the silent room.
Blood gushed—splattering Black's face.
Yellow Dragon's eyes snapped wide open—pupils contracting—expression turning hideous from relaxation.
He couldn't believe it—looked down at his heart.
There—the Council's treasure, the Dragonfang Blade—deeply stabbed into his heart.
Ancient runes on the blade lit up—green poison instantly flowing through the blade into his body.
Poison took effect—skin turned black—coughing black blood nonstop.
"You?!"
He painfully looked up—glaring at the figure before him—the black mask inches away—realizing something.
The Purple Dragon in his memory always wore a white mask—never black.
In his excitement—he didn't notice!
But—if not Purple Dragon—who was it?
Only Council members knew this room's location.
Suddenly!
Yellow Dragon's breathing turned rapid—a terrifying guess surged in his mind.
Who knew the room's location—and carried the Dragonfang Blade?
One other person.
"You're not Purple Dragon! You're the one who stole the Dragonfang Blade!"
"Correct."
Black whispered in his ear—wrist twisting—blade rotating half-circle in the heart.
"Pity—no reward."
"Gah… gah… Who are you?!"
Yellow Dragon tried to shout—only spat blood foam.
Glared at Black—eyes full of unwillingness.
Level 60 High-Tier Assassin—dying so unfairly—he felt incredibly unwilling!
"Just like you—I'm a villain too."
Black said calmly.
Then yanked the knife—spraying a burst of blood.
Yellow Dragon collapsed with the chair—twitched twice—still.
Those gradually dulling eyes still stared at the ceiling—dying with regrets.
"Huff… huff..."
After stabbing several more times—confirming death—Black finally relaxed.
Unknowingly—cold sweat covered him.
Just now—he only pretended calm—heart terrified.
After all—this was his first real murder.
The feeling of a blade piercing flesh—far beyond pressing a skill button in games.
Luckily—everything went smoothly.
Before the 6-star weapon Dragonfang Blade—even a Level 60 High-Tier Assassin—once defensive energy dropped—was just a few stabs.
Especially since he was bound.
Otherwise—in normal times—even if given multiple Dragonfang Blades—Black would never dare fight a High-Tier Assassin.
"This man truly deserved to die."
Black shook blood off the blade—no pity for the pitiful corpse.
In game prologue—Yellow Dragon was an undeniable murderer.
During the Jörmungandr battle—Dragonblood Council emerged—assassinating Royal Fleet members—killing many.
Yellow Dragon killed the most—even servants defenseless.
So—killing him—Black had zero psychological burden.
This place isn't safe.
After cleaning the Dragonfang Blade—Black immediately left.
Speed—as fast as possible.
Though he guessed other Council members wouldn't be here tonight—anything could happen.
However—what Black never expected? He actually hit that "anything"!
As he groped forward in the dark corridor—sound ahead.
!
Black's brows furrowed—mind sensing disaster!
Before he could hide—a black figure appeared before him.
Same black cloak—mask—almost identical to Black.
Clearly—a Dragonblood Council member!
Black's heart plunged—cold sweat seeping from his forehead.
If his identity was exposed—he was finished.
Just as he desperately thought of a way out—the other spoke first.
"Are you Purple Dragon? Came early today."
Hearing this—Black paused—then understood.
Seems they had an appointment tonight—mistook him for Purple Dragon.
Saves me excuses.
Knowing more talk, more mistakes—Black didn't speak—just nodded.
"Let's go. Black Dragon ordered us—interrogate Yellow Dragon tonight—must clarify the Dragonfang Blade disappearance."
The man didn't wait for response—walked ahead.
Now troublesome.
Black muttered—now mistaken for Purple Dragon—can't escape.
Fine—improvise.
So he nervously followed behind—walking back to the room.
Black didn't want to think—how the man would react finding Yellow Dragon's corpse.
Would he directly suspect him?
Then—trouble.
"Have you located the Hodir's ammunition depot these days?"
The casual question made Black slightly panicked.
Didn't know how to answer.
But this question reminded him of something.
At the prologue's final battle—the Hodir's ammunition depot exploded—causing massive damage.
Though controllable—ammunition shortage disabled cannons and similar weapons.
Culprit? Dragonblood Council.
But how they infiltrated the heavily guarded depot? Black didn't know—game lore just skimmed over.
"Not yet."
To avoid exposure—Black kept it brief—voice as low as possible.
But after answering—the other suddenly stopped.
Turned—silently staring at him.
Did I reveal a flaw?
Black's heart pounded—ready to flee at the slightest sign.
Whether he could escape—was another matter.
"Are you really Purple Dragon? You used to be talkative—why so quiet today?"
Damn—was Purple Dragon a chatterbox?
Just as Black thought he was doomed—the other muttered:
"But true—Black Dragon scolded you recently for talking too much. Learning from mistakes is good."
Phew… phew…
Black's tense nerves relaxed.
But next second—the black-clad man seemed to recall something—expression sharpening—suddenly shouted:
"Wait!"
Black jolted—quietly stepped back.
Ever since that incident, you've always addressed me as 'Lord White Dragon'."
"Have you… forgotten what happened?"
The black-clad figure turned to Black,his voice laced with heavy suspicion,each word dripping with implication.
This guy's paranoid as hell.
A bead of cold sweat slid down Black's temple.
He'd never been this tense.
Now he was certain—this was White Dragon.
In the game, White Dragon was notoriously distrustful—second only to Black Dragon among the assassins,a Level 65 Top-Tier Assassin.
What "incident"?
Black's mind raced.
If he couldn't answer… he was dead.
But what secret did Purple and White Dragon share?
He frantically scoured his memory—the silence stretching, thick with dread.
White Dragon's eyes narrowed further,patience wearing thin—
"I dare not forget, Lord White Dragon!"
Black blurted out, voice dripping with humble deference.
"How could I ever forget your grace in gifting me Dragon Scale Elixir?!"
White Dragon paused, then finally averted his gaze.
That's right—the Dragon Scale Elixir.
A secret only they two knew.
So I was just being overly suspicious…
This is indeed Purple Dragon.
"Good. Let's go."
As White Dragon turned away,
Black allowed himself a shaky breath.
At the last possible second, he'd remembered:in the game's official lore compendium,it was noted that White Dragon,seeking to elevate his standing in the Parliament,had bribed Purple Dragon with a vial of Dragon Scale Elixir—helping him forge a precious five-star weapon.
If Black hadn't boredly memorized that obscure detail…he'd have been exposed.
For the rest of the walk,White Dragon asked no more questions—even casually revealing elements of their next moves.
From this, Black learned:
The Dragonfang Blade's disappearance had thrown them into chaos.
After endless investigations and mutual suspicion,they'd finally pinned blame on Yellow Dragon.
Exactly as I predicted.
But then—White Dragon dropped a bombshell:
"Without the Dragonfang Blade, assassinating the Empress is impossible."
"But we won't leave empty-handed!"
"Black Dragon and I have decided:
Before the final battle, we eliminate the Empire's young elites!"
"To weaken their forces against the Dragon Tide…"
"And to sever the Empire's future!"
Malice dripped from every word.
His hatred for the Empire ran bone-deep.
Shit.
Black's blood ran cold.
He'd never imagined the Parliament would stoop this low.
The "young elites" meant Cyril, Kristine, Alice—losing any one would be a catastrophic blow.
And it was his fault—if he hadn't stolen the Dragonfang Blade,they'd never have shifted targets to these innocents.
Damn it!
A wave of helplessness crashed over him.
No matter how hard he tried,the plot always spiraled beyond control.
Yet he didn't despair.
For one—assassinating elites under the Dragon-Slaying Guards' noses was near-suicidal.
And two—these prodigies weren't helpless.
Each was formidably strong,each carried dozens of trump cards,each backed by great houses or institutions.
Take Kristine—the Holy Maiden—the Church surely armed her with relics…and maybe even secret bodyguards.
But Black had no time to dwell on it.
Because—they'd arrived at Yellow Dragon's holding cell.
Inside lay Yellow Dragon's corpse.
When White Dragon saw it… chaos would erupt.
Black's heart hammered—his mind racing for an escape plan.
"What's that stench?"
At the door, White Dragon's face darkened—a dreadful premonition seizing him.
He kicked the door open—and froze.
His pupils shrank to pinpricks,every hair on his body standing on end.
Yellow Dragon's body lay in a pool of black blood,a gaping hole where his heart should be.
His skin was pitch-black,his face twisted in terror,his blackened eyes staring blankly at the ceiling—as if he'd witnessed absolute horror before death.
"Yellow Dragon… is dead?!"
White Dragon staggered,shock rooting him in place for long moments.
Only after circling the corpse three times did he accept the truth.
"He was fine earlier! How… how could he die like this?!"
His voice cracked with disbelief.
Black, meanwhile, played his part perfectly—jaw dropped, eyes wide with feigned horror.
"Lord Yellow Dragon… who did this?!"
He sounded like an innocent bystander who'd just stumbled upon the scene.
But he knew White Dragon might still suspect him—after all, he'd been closest to the room.
Then—Black spotted his alibi.
"Lord White Dragon… judging by the corpse…"
"He's been dead for days."
The Dragonfang Blade's poison accelerated decay,
sucking vitality until the body rotted unnaturally fast.
Though Yellow Dragon had died less than an hour ago,his corpse looked three days old.
"…You're right."
White Dragon calmed slightly,examining the advanced decomposition.
The killer is long gone.
"Damn it! With Yellow Dragon gone, our strength is cut again!"
"Who knew our plans so well?!"
For the first time, the Top-Tier Assassin felt chilled to the bone.
From the stolen Dragonfang Bladeto Yellow Dragon's gruesome death—he sensed invisible eyes watching their every move.
Yet they found no trace—not even among their own ranks.
"Purple Dragon!" he barked,
"Fetch Black Dragon, Red Dragon—gather everyone immediately!"
"Yes, sir!"
There it is.
Black's chance.
Exactly as predicted.
In a crisis this severe,
White Dragon had to send him to rally the others.
If not now—when?!
Black bowed and rushed off—but the moment he turned the corner,he sprinted for the nearest exit.
No guards.
No ambushes.
Not even a sound.
The corridor was eerily silent,only his footsteps echoing in the hollow dark.
He didn't dare slow—not until he'd climbed the final staircase and burst onto the deck.
Moonlight bathed his face—Black took a deep breath—blending into the surrounding darkness.
Back in his room—he locked the door—slid down against it, sitting on the floor.
Tense nerves finally relaxed—he exhaled deeply—removed his mask, tossing it aside.
"Huff…"
Heart still racing—but at least he survived.
Miscalculation…
Black never expected to meet White Dragon. If exposed—it'd be ten deaths with no escape.
Not even Flow State could save him.
White Dragon was a true Level 65 Top-Tier Assassin—completely incomparable to Level 10 Seth.
In his hands—Flow State? Just a faster fly.
Luckily—Black knew Council secrets too well.
Besides Purple Dragon himself—probably only Black understood him best.
Or rather—not just Purple Dragon—all Council members.
As a player—God's perspective.
So—he dared infiltrate the cargo hold twice.
But no third time.
After this—the Council, even if stupid, would realize:
The one who stole the Dragonfang Blade and killed Yellow Dragon—wasn't internal.
Was an outsider in disguise!
Fine by Black—his two goals were achieved—no need to repeat tricks.
"Who will they target first?"
Black frowned tightly—White Dragon's words earlier heightened his crisis sense.
These young geniuses on the fleet—regardless of plot importance or combat power—
Just from conscience—if his actions led to Krystin, Alice, etc., being killed by the Council—
Black couldn't accept it.
Except Seth.
But these Council members—elusive, disguised, hiding on the Hodir.
They could assassinate anyone—Black couldn't predict.
Now—only hope these geniuses had many life-saving trump cards.
Setting that aside—another more important matter neared.
"It's time to tighten nerves."
Black stood—gazed through the window at the endless sea.
When moonlight was obscured by clouds—the sea turned pitch black—deep, terrifying.
Occasionally—unusual currents surged from distant darkness.
Maybe large whales moving.
Or perhaps… hiding some monstrous Sea Dragon.
They might already be watching the Royal Fleet from the dark.
Black felt inexplicably oppressed.
"Counting days—Caribbean Sea isn't far."
"Jörmungandr… I hope everything goes smoothly."
With heavy thoughts—Black fell asleep.
****
Afterward—Black continued as royal guard.
But compared to before—his relationship with Alice improved greatly.
Not intimate—yet moved from master-servant toward friends.
During this—Black occasionally guided Alice's swordsmanship.
Alice didn't disappoint her teacher.
Lacking talent—compensated with diligence.
Perhaps seeing a path to growth—she practiced extremely hard.
Beyond forgetting meals and sleep—almost burning her life.
Black admired her.
Compared to "genius girls"—he preferred clumsy but hardworking ones.
With such diligent practice—Alice's spirit energy use constantly improved—her strikes increasingly sharp.
Spirit energy overflow nearly vanished.
Power increased by over 20%.
For such hardcore students—often just wrong methods.
Show them the right path—they grow fast.
Alice was a classic example.
Noon—Hodir training ground.
Whoosh!
Usual sword sounds.
Alice's face glistened with sweat—drops falling to the ground.
She didn't feel tired—eyes bright—focused on marks on the dummy.
These days—marks on the dummy grew deeper.
Progress excited Alice.
"Haah."
Black yawned—leaning against the wall—dark circles under eyes—boredly watching the girl.
Does this villainess have infinite energy?
Black truly admired her.
This morning at 4 AM—this princess, ignoring gender norms—came to his room.
Woke him—sleeping like a dead pig—saying she hit a swordsmanship bottleneck—insisted he guide her.
After Blake guiding her—
Alice practiced from 4 AM to noon—except for drinking water, changing swords—Black never saw her stop.
A true sword maniac.
"Haah."
The Imperial Winged Dragon on his shoulder mimicked his yawn.
"Hey—you little goldie—what're you yawning for? You slept till sun hits your butt—no yawning allowed!"
Black grabbed the hatchling's tail—tugged.
"Goldie" was Black's nickname—from its golden-shining scales.
But the little one clearly disliked it.
From spirit link emotions—Black felt it thought the name was too cheap.
Didn't suit its majestic emperor looks or most noble Winged Dragon status.
But Black didn't care—who else has an emperor dragon pooping on a beauty's head?
Insist on calling you Goldie.
"Chirp chirp!"
The hatchling flapped wings—protested with "chirps", tail swinging—like objecting to this down-to-earth name.
Feeling their noise—Alice stopped her sword—amusedly watching.
Lips involuntarily curved—faint smile.
Though just ordinary daily life—it strangely softened her heart.
She couldn't describe the feeling.
Only felt—after walking alone in snowstorm for years—a boy suddenly appeared, holding a warm lantern—smiling, asking: "Can we walk together?"
Loneliness of ten years remained—but no longer heavy.
Goldie sensed her gaze—tilted head—golden pupils blinking.
Suddenly broke free—flapped wings toward her.
"Hey! Ungrateful little thing!"
Black shouted behind.
Alice instinctively reached out—the hatchling landed lightly on her palm—affectionately nuzzling her fingers.
Warm.
She suddenly realized—she hadn't been so relaxed in a long time.
Before—her world only held sword, duty, and that back always out of reach.
But now…
She watched Black slowly approach—still scolding Goldie for "ingratitude"—her expression softened.
Karina, witnessing this—smiled warmly. After a long pause—she spoke:
"Your Highness—the lunch is ready. Time to eat."
"Mm."
Alice nodded—then glanced at Black—hesitant.
A faint pink spread on her pale face—as if wanting to say something—too shy.
Fingers behind back twisted into a knot—looking deeply conflicted.
Black was confused—why was the princess staring at him?
Could she be… eyeing him as lunch?
"Eat… together."
After tossing this line—Alice turned—hurried away without looking back.
Eat together?
Black froze—did he hear right?
This isolated, cold princess inviting him to dine?
"Cough cough—Your Highness had me prepare two portions today."
Karina said meaningfully—a hint of amusement.
Seeing her mistress's awkwardness—she felt life complete.
So that's what it meant.
Black was overwhelmed.
In rigid Dragonheart Empire—nobles never dined with commoners.
Especially royalty.
Unless—Alice already saw him as one of her own.
Then—her earlier reaction? Was she… shy?
Black was shocked—this princess… could blush?
But royal-exclusive delicacies—true heavenly dishes—free meal? Why not?
Moments later—Black sat opposite Alice.
Table filled with exquisite dishes—aroma wafting.
Each dish worth over 10 gold coins.
Truly a sinful capitalist society.
Black marveled—resisting immediate hunger.
But the hatchling beside him—drooling everywhere.
"Please."
Alice, perhaps reserved—hadn't looked at Black since starting.
Just said softly.
Of course—princess dining alone with a man—if too intimate—rumors would spread.
Black watched her elegantly pick up knife and fork—movements textbook-perfect.
Imperial style—clearly practiced deliberately.
Attention to detail—fit Alice's character.
But Black didn't get it—he came from a fishing village—was an Earthling in past life.
Give him chopsticks over forks any day.
Screw image.
We're close now—Princess shouldn't mind.
So when Karina walked in—she saw a hilarious scene.
One side—elegant lady—savoring slowly—swallowing silently—no sound.
Other side—hungry man and dragon—devouring wildly, cleaning plates, almost using hands.
Her mistress—who hated noise during meals—showed zero objection.
With others—she'd have drawn her sword by now.
"Your Highness—today's soup is made with freshly caught sea fish—very fresh. Try it."
Karina smiled.
A young maid behind her approached—carrying a soup bowl.
Alice nodded—reaching to take it—
"Ah!"
The maid tripped—plate tilted—scalding soup spilled on her hand.
Worse—splashed onto Alice's clean face.
Room fell silent—tension rising.
Black's eyes widened—mind tightening.
Now trouble!
He knew—Alice had severe obsessive-compulsive disorder.
With her villainess persona—would she…
The guilty maid—panicked—kneeled: "Forgive me, Your Highness! I'll clean—"
Tears streaming—terrified. She heard—offend anyone but the Princess!
Now such a huge mistake—would the Empress behead her?
Karina's heart chilled. She knew Alice's temper and OCD—especially being splashed.
Just as she and Black desperately thought of ways to save the maid—
The situation exceeded expectations.
Alice set down utensils—stood—then squatted before the shocked maid.
"Are your hands burned?"
She asked softly—pulled out a handkerchief—gently wiping the maid's soup-stained fingers.
Didn't care about oily stains on her own face.
The maid froze—voiceless—staring at this usually noble princess.
"Be more careful next time."
Alice's voice remained calm—but eyes softer.
"Go apply medicine."
Maid's eyes reddened—nodding rapidly: "Th-thank you, Your Highness!"
Black and Karina stared dumbfounded.
Is this still the princess who put swords to my neck?
Black rubbed his eyes—unbelievable.
When did Alice's character change so much?
"Why are you staring? Is there food on my face?"
Alice glared at Black—wiped her face with a new handkerchief.
There is food on your face.
"Your Highness—generous, kind to servants—truly our fortune."
Black smiled—not forgetting flattery.
Alice sat back—hearing this—ear tips slightly red.
"Cough cough… just practicing that 'equal treatment' taming method you mentioned."
Voice soft as a mosquito.
But Black heard clearly—heart stirred.
He did mention "equal treatment."
Thought Alice would only use "equality" as a dragon-taming tactic—never expected her to extend it to human interactions.
From taming dragons to treating people—this princess's growth seemed deeper than imagined.
Perhaps—deep down—she was never a proud princess—just a girl bound too long by status and duty—forgetting how to show kindness.
Karina stood aside—eyes full of warmth.
No one knew Alice's recent changes better—this cold, isolated princess—growing more human.
And the reason? Likely that boy.
Though a small accident—dining atmosphere became lighter, happier.
Just as Karina thought it'd continue—
Outside—sudden change!
Woo—woo—
Alarm horns ripped through the room's peace!
Almost instantly—Alice shot up—hand instinctively on her longsword.
Expression darkened sharply.
"Sea Dragon Tide?!"
The Imperial Winged Dragon reacted violently too!
It spat out its food, wings suddenly spread, bared fangs, hissing with dragon roars. Its golden vertical pupils shrank to pinpoints—dragon aura released without restraint.
Seeing this man and dragon's reaction, Black was first confused, then suddenly stood up. The sharp alarm outside was indeed only sounded when a Sea Dragon Tide appeared.
Black and Alice exchanged glances, simultaneously blurting out: "Could it really be now?"
Alice casually drew Crimson Soul Sword, instantly leaping to the room door. Just before leaving, she paused, looking at Black and Karina, urgently saying: "You quickly find somewhere to hide—Sea Dragons eat humans on sight!" Then disappeared with fierce momentum.
What must come will come.
Black's face turned much more serious. The Sea Dragon Tide—a term frequently appearing in game plots—now truly appeared in reality.
So-called Sea Dragon Tide usually consists of various types of Sea Dragons forming a group. Whether in number or combat power, they are extremely shocking. Ordinary fishing boats would die ten times over upon encountering one Sea Dragon. Let alone a Sea Dragon Tide?
Even fully armed fleets, if unlucky enough to meet a Sea Dragon Tide, would only end in total annihilation. Sea Dragon Tides rarely appear, often only emerging in Sea Dragon habitats when large-scale hunting activities occur. The Royal Fleet encountering a Sea Dragon Tide here has only one reason—they're infinitely close to the Caribbean Sea.
This Sea Dragon Tide didn't form for hunting but gathered to celebrate Jörmungandr's awakening. "When it is about to awaken, all Sea Dragons will converge for the King's revival, starting a Dragon race feast!" This rumor isn't just for fun. Being attacked by a Sea Dragon Tide around the Caribbean Sea is normal.
Black wasn't overly nervous. Before Jörmungandr appears, there won't be a large-scale Sea Dragon Tide. What's attacking the fleet now is just a small wave. With the Royal Fleet's combat power, solving it doesn't require much effort.
"Mr. Black, let's go, we'll head to the shelter cabin." Karina said anxiously. As humans, they were taught from childhood by parents and others that Dragons are cruel creatures. Stories of humans being eaten by Dragons are endless. This is primitive fear ingrained in human genes. According to Royal Fleet regulations, when attacked by a Sea Dragon Tide, maids and servants must hide in the shelter cabin until the storm passes.
As for Black, Alice probably thought his level was too low. But Black had no such intention. With his current strength plus the Imperial Winged Dragon's assistance, as long as he's not surrounded by Sea Dragons, he still has some self-preservation ability. After all, he'll eventually face larger-scale Sea Dragon Tides—might as well observe the battle now to make preparations for later.
"You go first, I'll follow shortly." Black casually deceived Karina to leave, taking the hatchling toward the outside.
When arriving at Hodir's deck, Black realized he still underestimated the Sea Dragon Tide. The scene before him was far more shocking than game cutscenes.
The sea near the entire fleet seemed to boil!
The entire sea area appeared stirred by some invisible force—seawater violently churning, white foam flying like a giant pot of boiling water. Waves weren't natural air waves or sea fluctuations but vortices and currents stirred by some massive creature. Just within sight, dozens of sinister dorsal fins appeared. These fins rose and fell on the sea surface, like Death's scythe cutting through water.
Black's breathing slightly quickened—these Dragon race creatures' pressure couldn't compare to game illustrations!
"Sea Dragon Tide! Full alert!" As the main force against Sea Dragon Tides, Dragoncleaver Guards were well-trained, calmly setting up various defensive measures. Hodir's deck was instantly filled with various combat-ready personnel. Other ships' responses weren't as fast as Hodir's but were orderly, showing no panic.
Black scanned the deck, spotting many familiar figures. Besides Alice, Krystin, Cyril, Seth, and others were present. These individuals were all young prodigies, their strength not inferior to ordinary Dragoncleaver Guards. Stepping forward in such situations was also the responsibility of nobles and royalty.
Pascal, as Second-in-Command Assistant of the Dragoncleaver Guards, was now standing tens of meters above Hodir. From that position, he could oversee the entire battlefield situation, better directing combat. As for Empress Elizabeth, she didn't appear. Likely, this scale of Sea Dragon Tide didn't require her intervention. Her priority was healing wounds to face World Serpent Jörmungandr.
As time progressed, sea movements grew larger—countless sea fish jumped out of water, fleeing frantically.
The Sea Dragon Tide hadn't launched an attack yet.
Black felt puzzled, leaning against the deck edge, looking into the sea. The scene made his pupils contract sharply, body involuntarily trembling.
A huge shadow under the sea, like mountains rising and falling, increasing in number—already hundreds strong.
He understood—these Dragon creatures weren't not attacking but waiting for more comrades to support. Once numbers reached a certain scale, they'd show their fangs. Like now.
BOOM!
A huge wave suddenly rose—on the wave crest, dozens of Hammerhead Sea Dragons burst out of water, pouncing toward surrounding ships. Hammerhead Sea Dragons' most obvious feature is their hammer-shaped heads. Their massive hammer-shaped heads covered in sinister bone spurs are their most powerful attack method. As expected, Hammerhead Sea Dragons started using their heavy heads to smash ship sides.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Each impact raised several-meter-high walls of water—except Hodir, other ships shook violently. Fortunately, these ships all had defense spells carved—if not, they'd capsize next second. But this was just the beginning! The Sea Dragon Tide definitely doesn't consist of only one type of Sea Dragon! Dark shadows swam beneath the sea—smaller Sea Lion Dragons approached in groups.
"Sea Lion Dragons."
When seeing these dragons, Black recalled their settings. Sea Lion Dragons are social Dragon race, about 5 meters in size, named so because of their lion-like large mouths. When their gaping maws open, saw-toothed fangs gleam coldly. Sea Lion Dragons aren't as strong as Hammerhead Sea Dragons, but their flexibility is unparalleled!
Their streamlined bodies shuttle like ghosts in water—when approaching ships, they suddenly leap! Instantly jumping dozens of meters out of water, crashing onto ship decks like bombs.
"Crossbow cannons ready! Spell cannons ready! Fire!"