"Lord Sylvan, we entrust the task of dealing with the ancient green dragon to you." The red dragon Cynthia spoke respectfully to the towering figure before her—a legendary being with a human torso, snake-like tail, and eagle wings, standing five meters tall.
"Very well, but after we win this battle, I want half of the ancient green dragon's treasure," Sylvan stated firmly, looking at the group of vicious dragons before him.
"That might be a problem." One of the dragons immediately voiced opposition. In any green dragon tribe, the most powerful green dragon would naturally control the majority of the wealth. Now, Sylvan was demanding half of the treasure upfront, and the Chromatic Dragons were unwilling to concede that easily.
"We haven't even started the fight yet. Why should you get so much?" another dragon chimed in, and many others nodded in agreement.
"If I don't hold off this ancient green dragon, there's no way you could take down the green dragon tribe. So asking for half the treasure isn't unreasonable," Sylvan responded sharply. While his memory might be impaired, his mind was still intact, and he wasn't about to let these dragons use him without proper compensation.
"But your main role would only be to keep the legendary green dragon occupied. Unless you can defeat the dragon by yourself, you can't take that much," another dragon argued.
"If I could defeat the ancient green dragon on my own, I would only need to pay you for the information. I could take care of the green dragon tribe by myself," Sylvan replied confidently.
"You think you could take down the entire green dragon tribe without our help? Do you think the other green dragons would just stand by and watch you fight their matriarch one-on-one? How naive can you be?"
"Enough arguing! We haven't even taken down the green dragon tribe yet, and you're already squabbling over loot we don't even have!" Cynthia finally stepped in to mediate.
"Sylvan, asking for fifty percent is too much, but I can promise you this: if we win this battle, you will get thirty percent of the legendary green dragon's treasure. If you want more, that depends on your performance on the battlefield. You're no fool, and neither am I. Rewards will be based on the contributions made in battle—the more you contribute, the more you get. War spoils aren't distributed based on who's the strongest."
Agreeing on compensation upfront would be foolish, as some might slack off once victory was in sight. But if the spoils were distributed based on battlefield performance, Sylvan would have to fight hard if he wanted a bigger share.
"And who decides how much credit each of us gets?"
"According to the usual rules. None of us trust each other, so we'll have Muria's personal guards as witnesses." Soon, after a dragon's call, eight Storm Giants riding giant rocs descended from the sky.
They wouldn't participate in the battle against the green dragon tribe, but they would be witnesses, recording everything that happened on the battlefield to ensure fair distribution of the spoils.
...
"You wretched little creatures! How dare you destroy my tribe? I will remember this hatred," the massive, jade-like ancient dragon growled, glaring at her burning lair. Fury burned in her eyes. "You'd better hope you stay together forever, or I'll exact my revenge on each of you, making you feel the pain I feel now."
"And you, you pieced-together monstrosity, I'll remember you too." The battered ancient green dragon fixed her gaze on Sylvan, who stood before her with dual blades. If not for this monster keeping her occupied, her tribe would never have suffered such destruction.
"Planning to escape?" Seeing the ancient green dragon begin her threats, Sylvan narrowed his eyes. His long, snake-like tail lashed out, propelling him towards her at high speed.
"I admit you're strong, but you can't stop me if I want to leave." The green dragon sneered as she effortlessly tore through space, slipping into the void.
"Do you really think you can escape, fool?" Sylvan smirked as he watched the ancient dragon flee. He made no move to pursue, instead glancing towards the edge of the battlefield, where a Storm Giant on a roc was carefully recording everything.
...
"Those damned little monsters, I've memorized all your scents. Prepare for my revenge!" the ancient dragon seethed as she sped through the spatial rift.
"Who do you plan to take revenge on?" A lazy yet slightly irritated voice suddenly echoed in her ears.
"Who's there?" The green dragon's scales bristled in fear as the voice interrupted her flight through the spatial rift.
"I am the Ten-Winged Archangel, Asimeo!" A blinding light appeared before the green dragon, forming into a tall, muscular figure clad in ornate armor, wielding a great sword. Pure white wings extended from his back as he gazed impassively at the green dragon, who was many times his size.
"Ten-Winged Archangel!" The ancient green dragon was startled, her anger quickly turning to fear at the sight of this legendary high-ranking celestial being. "Why are you stopping me?"
A deep sense of foreboding filled the ancient dragon's heart. While angels and Chromatic Dragons typically never allied, she had seen too many things today that shattered her understanding of the world.
For instance, many of the Chromatic Dragons that attacked her tribe today were barely dragons at all—more like monsters wearing dragon skins. Among them, she distinctly remembered a massive black dragon that could breathe five different types of dragon breath, and a metallic dragon covered in huge magical constructs, wielding two magical cannons and blasting everything in sight.
These were just two of the more conspicuous monsters among the dragons. Then there was the one she had fought—a creature seemingly cobbled together from the bodies of various powerful legendary beings.
"By the Dragon Lord's command, I am here to capture you," Asimeo declared solemnly. "Surrender now and spare yourself unnecessary pain. Obey, and follow me to meet the Dragon Lord."
"Dream on!" Sensing that whoever this Dragon Lord was, they were bad news, the ancient green dragon roared and unleashed her breath weapon at the archangel before turning to flee. She wasn't foolish enough to engage a high-ranking legendary archangel in direct combat.
"Wouldn't it be easier if you just surrendered? It would save us all a lot of trouble." Asimeo sighed as the green dragon fled. With a flap of his ten wings, he transformed into a beam of light, pursuing her. As he flew, the light radiating from him expanded, eventually forming a storm of pure white sword energy that enveloped the green dragon. Her anguished screams echoed through the spatial rift.
"Why do you resist? Why suffer unnecessary pain when the result will be the same?" The archangel sighed again. After a long chase, Asimeo stepped out of the spatial rift near the ruins of the green dragon tribe, dragging the massive tail of the ancient dragon behind him. The dragon's limbs and wings hung limply, as if she were dead.
"Did you really think you could escape from me? You underestimate me." The archangel muttered to himself as he shook the battered green dragon, who was now pretending to be dead.
The massive size difference between the angel and the dragon created a striking visual contrast. Unable to bear the angel's constant taunting, the green dragon finally opened her eyes and glared at him. "As an angel of the heavens, don't you feel ashamed to be working with Chromatic Dragons?"
"They're not like the Chromatic Dragons you know. These are good dragons who do good deeds and shun evil," Asimeo declared righteously. He believed that Muria's dragons were all good dragons, and anyone who disagreed would be beaten until they acknowledged it.
"And this is what you call a good dragon?" The ancient green dragon glanced sorrowfully at her ruined lair, where thick black smoke billowed into the sky. Occasionally, she could still hear the cheers of the Chromatic Dragons celebrating their plunder. That sound was all too familiar to her—it was the sound of dragons reveling in their spoils.
Thinking about the treasure, the ancient dragon remembered the hoard she hadn't been able to take with her. Tears of anguish welled up in her eyes as she realized she would never see those precious items again. The pain of loss was so great that the physical wounds covering her body no longer mattered.
"Why are you crying?" Asimeo was taken aback, staring at the tears streaming down the green dragon's face. He clicked his tongue in surprise. He had lived for thousands of years, but this was the first time he had ever seen an ancient dragon cry. Who would believe it?
"I'm taking this dragon," Asimeo announced as he paraded the ancient dragon through the ranks of Chromatic Dragons still engaged in looting and destruction, making sure they understood that they needn't fear retribution from an ancient dragon. "You can proceed without worry. Whatever you do, we'll be here to back you up."
With those words, Asimeo ignored the astonished gazes of the dragons and tore open a spatial rift, dragging the green dragon back to Synapse.
"What is this place?" The ancient green dragon stared in horror at the mist-covered cloud islands before her. She saw hatchlings playing and chasing each other around the islands, countless giants patrolling, and dwarves and elves constructing buildings.
"Synapse, the place where your fate will be decided," Asimeo replied, casting a glance at the terrified dragon. Seeing the tears in her eyes, he kindly advised, "Make sure to behave later. Whether you're sealed in a pillar or become part of the ruling class will depend on your choices."
Soon, under the watchful eyes of many giants
, the archangel dragged the ancient dragon into the Wind King's Castle.
"Lord Muria, I have completed the mission!"
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