Faint red glows of flowing lava were visible beneath.
Nearly a hundred purified, dark-red Black Dragon eggs were placed in specific depressions on the rocks, being baked by geothermal heat and lava.
Waves of heat rolled through the air.
Adamanthea, the Black Dragon sealed for ten thousand years by Neltharion.
She was carefully using her Dragon claws to guide a gentle breeze, evenly caressing the surface of several Black Dragon eggs whose shells were slightly warmer.
Beside her, several strong Dragon beasts grunted as they hauled large chunks of fire-elemental ore, piling them in designated spots.
Another Dracthyr spellcaster would then break them down, slowly releasing stable heat.
"The temperature over there is a bit low," Nefarian's voice suddenly broke the silence, alerting Adamanthea to an anomaly in a certain area.
Adamanthea jumped, her Dragon claws twitching, almost losing control of the hot wind.
She quickly stabilized herself, glaring at Nefarian with a hint of mild complaint in her Dragon eyes, but still adjusted the energy output as instructed. "Understood, Prince Nefarian."
Nefarian paid no mind; his gaze swept over the busy, fiery Black Dragon incubation area before he asked, "Are you feeling a bit overwhelmed, being solely responsible for this area?"
Adamanthea rolled her eyes at him, "So you finally noticed?"
Nefarian awkwardly scratched a scale on his face, "That's why I told you all to keep an eye on my sister, and if possible, bring her back directly—" "Enough," Adamanthea interrupted Nefarian, "Your sister didn't appear at Obsidian's temple."
"According to the information we gathered there, Onyxia was called away by your father."
"He seems very angry about your betrayal and is trying to create more whelps."
Nefarian fell silent.
According to what he had heard from his mentor, NZoth's corruption and the eruption of the Dragon Soul had already caused an imbalance of power within Deathwing, making it nearly impossible for any suitable mate to endure Deathwing's favor.
Moreover, as his madness deepened, this situation would only worsen.
Therefore, after Sinestra's disappearance, Nefarian and Onyxia were likely Neltharion's only remaining offspring.
Now Onyxia had been taken by him to Deepholm.
His father couldn't be that perverted, could he?
"What are you thinking about? You look so serious," Adamanthea's voice roused Nefarian from his contemplation.
Nefarian shook his head, temporarily kicking that perverted thought out of his mind. "It's nothing. I'll arrange for more mortals to come and help you. You've worked hard during this time."
Adamanthea watched Nefarian, who seemed somewhat distracted, gradually walk away.
After inspecting the Dragon eggs, Nefarian returned to the core of the Glimmering Dream, which was where Obsidian purified the Black Dragon eggs.
Many Dracthyr eggs were also stored here, in a quantity similar to those sent to The Nexus.
These eggs, of various colors, were immersed in a special solution composed of natural energy mixed with Obsidian's divine power.
Two Dracthyr supplicants were in charge of this place.
They could remain here for extended periods because this area, similar to the divine realm Serakhen, was deeply permeated by Obsidian's power.
After briefly confirming the status of the Dracthyr eggs, Nefarian left.
"Using different types of energy to cultivate these Dracthyr," Nefarian understood inwardly, "The Nexus uses arcane, and here it's natural, like the Five-colored Dragon? Then three more are missing."
This thought intrigued him, and his worries lessened considerably.
It seemed Obsidian's interest in the 'Dracthyr' project extended far beyond simple repetition.
Having confirmed that everything was running smoothly within the Glimmering Dream, Nefarian did not linger.
He turned, took flight, passed through the portal, and returned to the material world.
The afterglow of the setting sun cast a warm hue over the simple buildings of the Pioneer Territory; the Ice Trolls had finished their day's labor, and the clamor grew louder. Sakares seemed to still be wrestling with those ill-tempered grizzly bears, while Vandal's squad began their evening meditation.
Nefarian landed on a high vantage point, overlooking it all.
Busy, trivial, occasionally having to deal with chuunibyou subordinates and collaborators of varying personalities—this was his daily life as an 'Apprentice of the Dragon of Radiance.'
Although it was a far cry from the 'Black Dragon Prince Conquers the World' scenario he once fantasized about, at least it was better than listening to the ravings of madness under a curse.
Then, a deep, rhythmic chanting emanated from the center of the settlement, accompanied by the clinking of bone bells and the beating of hide drums.
There, beneath a colossal stone carved with a divine emblem, the Ice Troll priests lit several bonfires.
Clad in crude bone ornaments and furs, and wearing standard black robes with gold thread, they chanted prayers in their guttural Trollish language.
Firelight danced on their painted faces, the content being nothing more than thanks to the Flame Keeper for protection and food, pleas for the cold not to consume their fields, and… a hope for a larger share of meat from the next hunt.
Several Dracthyr warriors stood with their arms crossed, silently in the shadows at the edge of the crowd.
They watched the Trolls' primitive ritual with indifferent eyes, a mix of barely perceptible superiority, a touch of curiosity, and a greater sense of 'this is so noisy' impatience.
Nefarian observed the primitive sermon scene from afar, his scarlet vertical pupils unmoving.
"As long as it's not the disaster Frost Fang caused, it's all acceptable."
He grumbled internally, without a trace of burden, regretting his decision back then.
Nefarian folded his wings, turned, and walked towards a relatively quiet spot on the edge of the Pioneer Territory.
That was his temporary laboratory and residence, enclosed by several large rocks and animated vines.
A portion of the underground had been hollowed out and furnished with simple stone tables.
Upon them lay scrolls, energy crystals, and several crude experimental instruments; the air was filled with a mixed scent of sulfur, arcane dust, and herbs.
Just as he extended a Dragon claw, preparing to push aside the vines hanging over the cave entrance, an anomaly occurred.
Thump—thump—thump…
An extremely heavy, slow footstep, accompanied by an almost imperceptible tremor of the ground, came from the direction of the conifer forest outside the settlement.
The sound was like some colossal creature trudging in pain or exhaustion.
Each step it took was a muffled thud of crushed vegetation and earth, spaced far apart, yet exceptionally clear, cutting through the Trolls' low chanting and the crackling of the bonfire.
Nefarian's movements instantly froze.
His vertical pupils suddenly constricted, turning towards the dark depths where the sound originated.
In addition, he acutely smelled a strong scent of blood and the distinct odor of the wilderness.
On the watchtower at the edge of the Pioneer Territory, the on-duty Dracthyr warriors also noticed the anomaly, and alert shouts rang out.
The Trolls' chanting gradually subsided, and the figures around the bonfire stirred uneasily.
Thump—thump—thump—…
The footsteps grew closer, heavier.
Accompanying them were heavy breaths and the crisp'snap' of branches being forcefully broken.
Finally, a colossal, suffocating silhouette crashed through the outermost trees, stumbling into the faint light at the edge of the Pioneer Territory.
Moonlight and the golden glow of the World Tree outlined the contours of its undulating back; each movement of its thick limbs seemed exceptionally difficult, its heavy head hung low, and its breath condensed into large white mist in the air, carrying a strong scent of blood.
The moment Nefarian saw the thing clearly, his expression remained impassive.
But deep within his red vertical pupils, cold vigilance and a researcher's curiosity instantly overwhelmed other emotions.
It was a white bear several tens of meters tall.
And it was in extremely poor condition.
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