"What? Can't breathe fire?" Lanssangx exclaimed in surprise. There was actually a dragon that couldn't breathe fire!
One must know that even some people in The Lands Between could breathe fire! For Dvalin to not possess fire-breathing, a standard dragon technique, truly astonished Lanssangx.
Oh no, the Ancient Dragon status she had just bestowed upon Dvalin had a flaw. She needed to find a loophole.
"Then what do you breathe?" Lanssangx asked, looking at Dvalin's enormous dragon maw. Surely such a large mouth wasn't just for biting people?
"I breathe wind!" Dvalin declared, then eagerly opened his massive mouth. A condensed gale of wind then erupted from it.
The gale was like countless sharp blades of metal intertwined, leaving dense, crisscrossing gouges wherever it passed.
Where the Breath of the East Wind swept, even the ancient civilization's ruined platforms were shaved down a layer.
If this dragon's breath were to blow outside the Domain, it was likely that nothing could stop it.
"Hoo!" Dvalin's dragon maw closed, and the surging gale ceased. Lanssangx went to where the dragon's breath had passed, reaching out to touch the marks left behind.
Dvalin's strength was formidable, stronger than many of her own kin! Lanssangx turned to Dvalin, who was looking at her expectantly, and said:
"I knew you could breathe, and it's a breath I've never seen before!"
"Are there many kinds of dragon's breath?" Dvalin's eyes were full of curiosity. To be honest, it was his first time seeing another dragon breathe.
"Of course!" Lanssangx nodded, then said, "Among the dragons, the Drakes have the most varied types of breath!"
"There are those that breathe fire, those that breathe Frost, those that breathe magic, and even those that breathe poison!"
Lanssangx enumerated the different types of Drake's breath as if reciting from memory. The scales of Ancient Dragons were both their strength and, to some extent, their weakness.
Because Ancient Dragon scales covered every part of their bodies, they were tougher than any other creature. Therefore, they were unaffected by the environment, and the breath of Ancient Dragons, from ancient times to the present, had only ever been fire.
Neither solid ice, nor lava, nor plague, nor pain could move an Ancient Dragon in the slightest.
But if they encountered a catastrophe so immense that even an Ancient Dragon's body could not withstand it, then the Ancient Dragon clan's mortality rate would be frighteningly high.
The shattering of the elden ring was clearly one such immense catastrophe that even Ancient Dragons could not resist. At that time, only a single-digit number of Ancient Dragons survived. In contrast, the Drakes, always looked down upon by Ancient Dragons, showed astonishing adaptability.
Upon encountering extreme cold, a Drake's brownish-black skin would turn snow-white, and its fiery breath would transform into cold Frost; when devouring mages, Crystalize of glintstone would form on the Drake's body, and its dragon's breath would become magical flames.
Even when afflicted by the poison of rot, a Drake could still harness the power of the poison while its entire body festered, making its dragon's breath entirely the scarlet of rot.
There were too many examples of this to enumerate.
"That amazing?" Dvalin heard Lanssangx's words, and an image of a giant dragon spewing colorful beams of light appeared in his mind, making him yearn for it.
When would he also be able to breathe fire like other dragons?
"Now there's wind-breathing too, very good, the types of dragon's breath have increased." Lanssangx looked at Dvalin with satisfaction. It was good that he could breathe.
"Can you tell me where you come from?" Dvalin looked at Lanssangx, his eyes filled with longing.
There were so many types of dragon's breath, so there must be many dragons, right? He wanted to see them.
"Where do I come from?" Lanssangx seemed surprised by Dvalin's question. She thought for a moment, then said, "I come from a very, very distant place."
"If you come back with me, you won't be able to return for a very long time. Can you make that decision?"
Lanssangx looked at Dvalin earnestly and asked. She could tell that Dvalin wasn't as hateful towards Mondstadt as he claimed.
He couldn't let go of the city of Mondstadt, and he certainly couldn't let go of Venti.
As Lanssangx expected, Dvalin's eyes immediately dimmed. Abandon Mondstadt? He had indeed thought about it, but every time he tried to act, his four wings felt as if they were filled with lead, utterly unable to flap.
In Dvalin's heart, there was always a place for Mondstadt and Venti.
Seeing Dvalin's dejected look, Lanssangx waved her hand and said, "Don't be so disheartened, don't you have me?"
"I am the High Priest of the Dragon Clan's faith. I'm practically the second-in-command!" As she spoke, Lanssangx proudly lifted her head.
The Dragon King didn't handle affairs. She and Franssangx, one in charge of faith and the other in charge of practical matters, if they were to truly compare, it was hard to say who was the first or second-in-command!
"This... this amazing!" Dvalin was thoroughly shocked now. He hadn't expected Lanssangx to hold such a high position among the dragons.
In Dvalin's understanding, Farum Azula was a colossal dragon city, with countless dragons and dragonkin coming and going every day. How powerful must one be to be in charge there?
Dvalin couldn't help but shrink his head, wondering if he had offended Lanssangx just now.
Maintaining relationships with his own kind—this was Dvalin's first experience. Or rather, Dvalin had never had any relationships at all.
He and Venti used to communicate heart-to-heart, so he never needed to consider so much. As for humans, he had never interacted with them.
Because every time he followed his curiosity and approached humans, he was met only with terror and flight. Over time, he learned to deliberately avoid humans.
"What are you thinking?" Lanssangx leaned close to Dvalin, watching the constant changes in his expression, finding it very amusing.
The expressions of Ancient Dragons wouldn't change so flexibly.
"N-nothing!" Dvalin shook his head, a forced smile on his lips.
"Who taught you that?" Lanssangx saw Dvalin's half-smiling, half-crying expression and firmly tapped his head.
Dvalin raised a hand to rub his head, then explained, "I learned it from Barbatos. In the stories he told me, some said that people would smile at those in high positions."
"Are you human?" Lanssangx tugged at the dragon horn on Dvalin's head, speechless.
"No." Dvalin shook his head, but this time he didn't try to show those expressions he had never shown before.
"Then that's right, listen less to those stories from Barbatos! Telling such stories corrupts dragons!" As she spoke, Lanssangx's eyes darted around, and she leaned mysteriously close to Dvalin, saying, "Do you want to hear the dragons' own stories?"
"Yes!" Dvalin nodded vigorously. He had never heard stories centered around dragons before.
"Then sit still!" Lanssangx looked at Dvalin, cleared her throat a few times, and then said again, "Lie down!"
Dvalin obediently lay down on the platform, looking like a curious child.
Then, a special scene unfolded within the Domain of Stormterror's Lair.
Lanssangx helped Dvalin recall the past of the Dragon Clan within the Wind Domain. She was exceptionally excited, and with her gestures, she depicted grand and magnificent epics.
These epics featured dragons as protagonists, melodies created by dragons that Dvalin had never heard before.
He would feel anger when meteors destroyed the Sky City, and his blood would boil upon hearing of the Ancient Dragon's charge against the golden age.
This was something he had never felt in previous poems. Human poems would also make him happy or sad, but those feelings were fleeting.
However, the dragons' poems were empathetic. Often, while Dvalin was still immersed in the regrets or satisfactions of the previous era, Lanssangx had already begun narrating the next.
Such a complex array of emotions had never intertwined within Dvalin's heart before, and these intertwined feelings further influenced Dvalin.
Looking at Dvalin's complex eyes, Lanssangx knew what it was. The stories of dragons were the history of dragons.
And Dvalin, at that moment, was a dragon immersed in history.
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