As the gale stirred up by the flapping of the White Dragon's wings subsided, the blue mist surrounding them visibly coalesced back toward the dragon, restoring their field of vision.
Though still somewhat embarrassed, Castorice glanced at their opponent. Of course, a dragon's words should be settled by dragons!
Turning to Aria, Douglas, and Feidric, she said, "You all step back a bit. I'll handle this!"
The trio retreated without hesitation. Castorice took a deep breath, striking a pose. Her previous attempt to show off had failed spectacularly, but she couldn't afford another failure now!
Raising her scythe with one hand, she made a gentle arc behind her. Instantly, space fractured, and a terrifying, bone-chilling aura slowly began to emanate from the rift!
"Embrace New Life, Pollux!"
As Castorice spoke the incantation, Aria, Douglas, and Feidric watched in awe as a pair of massive dragon claws emerged from the rift, tearing the fabric of space wider.
First to appear were eyes glowing with an eerie purple light, followed by the gradual emergence of an utterly colossal dragon from the spatial tear, entering the Material Plane.
"This is...?!" Feidric exclaimed, his face contorted in utter shock. Aria and Douglas stammered, "Another... another dragon?!"
Dragons, legendary creatures frequently featured in adventure tales, were far beyond the experience of Aria and Douglas's Silver-tier Hero Party. Their adventures had yet to reach a scale where they might encounter such a majestic beast.
Thus, for both Aria and Douglas, this was the first time in their lives they had ever seen a dragon—and they were seeing two at once!
As for Feidric, he had once glimpsed a dragon from afar during his time with the Arcane Federation, but witnessing two up close now left him equally awestruck.
However, Feidric blinked, and when he looked again, he realized that the white ice surrounding Castorice had vanished, replaced by deep purple soil. Beneath her feet, beautiful flowers bloomed, their petals shimmering with otherworldly hues.
The sight of these flowers stirred an overwhelming urge in Feidric to lie down among them and drift into a peaceful slumber. He violently shook his head, realizing the strangeness of his impulse. "These aren't ordinary flowers," he muttered. "The area around Miss Castorice... is no longer entirely within the Material Plane!"
"A portion of the Underworld has been projected here!"
Since Castorice was a Death Demigod who had cleaved space to transform her surroundings, the answer was obvious: what had been projected onto the Material Plane could only be the Underworld itself.
However, as Castorice attempted to expand her "Domain" further, she encountered significant resistance. She and the White Dragon were currently about a hundred meters apart. This meant that a distinct "line" had appeared exactly halfway between them, at the fifty-meter mark!
To the right of this line lay Castorice's Underworld, but beyond it to the left remained the pristine white ice. This line seemed to divide the two sides into entirely separate worlds.
Pollux silently stared at the White Dragon before her. Meeting her "kin" for the first time, she wore a faintly curious expression, but nothing more. In contrast, the moment Pollux appeared, the White Dragon clearly sensed a powerful threat. Like a dog baring its teeth in warning, it snarled menacingly and emitted a low growl.
However, Pollux completely disregarded this feeble threat. If a Tibetan Mastiff were to bare its fangs at a lion, it might give the lion pause, perhaps even put it on alert. But what if the one baring its teeth was a small, limping puppy?
In the most likely scenario, the lion would simply stroll past the puppy as if it weren't there, not even glancing at it.
Such a weak opponent didn't even warrant being crushed; it posed no conceivable threat to the lion.
Without a doubt, Pollux was now the lion. She could sense that the White Dragon before her was at its last gasp. In its prime, it might have stood a chance against her as a Tibetan Mastiff, but now, it was better off giving up.
Left unattended, the White Dragon would likely die on its own within a short time.
The White Dragon opened its mouth, its throat pulsing, clearly preparing to unleash its breath. Seeing this, Castorice didn't hesitate. She raised her Scythe and pointed it at the dragon, shouting, "Pollux!"
Pollux instantly understood. She too opened her mouth, a crimson glow flowing beneath her skin, converging at her neck.
When Castorice encountered the Ranger Hero (Ice Puppet version) earlier, she refrained from ordering Pollux to breathe fire, fearing it would vaporize the Hero's equipment. But this White Dragon was clearly no Hero's corpse, so she had no such worries. Besides, watching two dragons unleash their breath weapons in a spectacular clash—how could Castorice possibly miss that?
Of course, before ordering Pollux to breathe fire, she carefully checked their positions, ensuring she was on the right side. After all, ancient wisdom dictated that whoever was on the left always lost in a clash of breath attacks. Now that she was on the right, the outcome was practically guaranteed!
Whoosh—
The White Dragon unleashed a pure white torrent of breath, filled with countless tiny ice crystals. The massive, blizzard-like blast swept forward from all directions, like a natural disaster, engulfing everything in its path. The white storm blotted out the horizon, leaving no room to escape.
BOOM—!!!
In that instant, Pollux unleashed her own breath weapon—a crimson pillar of fire that sliced through the icy torrent like a blade. Contrary to Castorice's expectations, there was no beam clash at all. The fiery pillar struck the White Dragon's neck in the blink of an eye.
Naturally, the White Dragon's breath was forcibly interrupted. It howled in agony and thrashed wildly, but pinned to the ground, it had nowhere to escape and was forced to endure the full brunt of Pollux's fiery torrent.
Though the White Dragon's breath had been cut off, the massive white storm it had initially unleashed still raged on. Seeing this, Pollux ceased her own breath attack. She stood before Castorice, chest thrust forward, wings spread wide, using her body to block the full force of the onrushing white storm.
Before Pollux, the avalanche and blizzard relentlessly battered her frame, but behind her, the air remained calm and clear, the sky an endless expanse of blue.
Moments later, Pollux had completely intercepted the white storm. She stretched her stiff wings and neck slightly. Numerous superficial wounds marred her skin, but none were serious.
Even if she had sustained more severe, even fatal injuries, it would have mattered little to Pollux. Or rather, for her, the very concept of a 'fatal wound' simply didn't exist.
After all, Pollux was a Death Dragon. Even if she were to explode on the spot, she could be reborn in the Styx.
Contrary to expectations, after being struck by Pollux's breath attack, the White Dragon collapsed to the ground, clearly struggling to breathe. Its neck was severely burned, and though it tried repeatedly to rise, each attempt ended in failure.
Watching this scene unfold, Feidric murmured, "Is that... it?"
This was understandable. To Aria and her companions, the White Dragon might have seemed like a formidable boss, but to Castorice and Pollux, it was merely a wounded 'puppy'—hardly a worthy opponent.
Just then, the White Dragon suddenly began to writhe violently, its body cracking with sounds like snapping bones. Then, its massive form began to shrink rapidly.
Seeing this, Castorice immediately tensed. When you've "gone through hell and back" to deplete a boss's health bar, and instead of a victory screen, an even more intense battle theme starts playing...
While they hadn't exactly "gone through hell and back" and no dramatic music had started, the current situation looked suspiciously like the boss was about to enter its second phase!
According to Feidric, the Demon Dragon form should have been the Demon Lord's second stage in Legend of the Demon King and the Hero. If this White Dragon truly was the Demon Lord, wouldn't that mean a third form was next?!
But just as Castorice was lost in wild speculation, the White Dragon began to slowly transform into a humanoid form, taking the form of an elf girl with only an upper body, long green hair, and pointed ears.
Feidric suddenly exclaimed, "Wait! This White Dragon isn't the Demon Lord—it's the half-elf Druid among the Seven Heroes!"
Druids possess the ability to shapeshift into other animals, but it's not as simple as choosing any creature at will. Each Druid is essentially an 'animalologist,' spending years observing a particular animal's habits and behavior to gradually understand and master the ability to transform into it.
Understand Nature, Become One with Nature—this is one of the Druid's core tenets. Typically, an ordinary Druid can only transform into two or three different animals, usually wolves, bears, or eagles.
During her earlier battle with Nathaniel, the Druid's ability to transform into an Owlbear was already an exceptionally rare occurrence. But this Druid Hero's ability to transform into a Dragon? That was beyond absurd.
But since she's a Hero, perhaps it's not entirely impossible?
As Castorice pondered, she clearly observed the Blue Mist that had been swirling around the White Dragon rapidly coalescing toward the half-elf Druid's position.
So, this Blue Mist isn't the White Dragon's power at all. It's because she's a Hero, a remnant of the Demon Lord's power. The Mist surrounding her is actually attacking her!
Initially, the White Dragon had simply flapped her wings, inadvertently blowing the Blue Mist toward them. She wasn't intentionally controlling the Mist to attack Aria and the others. Her subsequent breath attack, a white storm of wind rather than blue mist, further confirmed this.
Indeed, three centuries ago, during the battle against the Demon Lord, this half-elf Druid Hero had chosen to transform into the White Dragon King Zacharias, a massive dragon renowned for its mastery over ice magic and formidable power.
A single breath attack from this dragon could unleash a cataclysmic blizzard capable of obliterating an entire city.
Naturally, the White Dragon King Zacharias possessed extremely high ice resistance. Yet even so, she wasn't completely immune to the Blue Mist's effects. The bone-chilling cold, piercing straight to her soul, gradually spread through the Hero's body, as if it were an exceptionally cruel torture.
Normally, a half-elf's lifespan is only two to three centuries. This half-elf Druid couldn't possibly have joined the Hero Party as an infant, right?
Assuming she joined the party in her forties or fifties, given her natural lifespan, she should have been long dead by now. However, because she transformed into a dragon and never reverted, her lifespan was indirectly extended.
Theoretically, if someone nearing death transformed into a turtle, they could indeed prolong their life.
But a Druid's transformation into an animal isn't just a cosmetic change—it's a complete assimilation. Using the same example, if a person remained in turtle form for an extended period, their thought patterns would gradually assimilate with those of a turtle, slowly becoming a true turtle, knowing only to eat and sleep.
The half-elf Druid's situation was similar. Her prolonged existence as a dragon had caused her mind to gradually assimilate with draconic patterns. Over three centuries of endless torment, she had long forgotten who she was and why she was here, merely enduring the relentless onslaught of ice day after day.
Only when someone unexpectedly trespassed into her Domain did she instinctively launch an attack.
Then came another characteristic of Druids: if the animal form they had assumed was defeated and near death, the Druid would automatically revert to their original form, inheriting all the injuries sustained in their animal form.
With a dragon's vitality, one could survive even with half its body gone. However, after reverting to her half-elf form, it was clear this Druid wouldn't last long. Worse still, Pollux's breath had severely injured her throat, leaving her in a state of critical injury compounded by critical injury.
Of course, Castorice didn't grasp all these details. Time was too tight, and she had no time to think deeply. Upon learning that the half-elf Druid was a Hero and seeing the Blue Mist converging toward her, Castorice immediately sprang into action.
As she sprinted toward the Druid, she extended her right hand. A torrent of deep purple liquid—water from the River Styx—surged from her palm, reaching the Druid before the Blue Mist and enveloping her completely without leaving any vulnerable spots!
After all, this was the first living Hero Castorice had encountered. Saving her took precedence above all else!