But Mordred had no intention of wasting time on words or diplomatic negotiations. His primordial predator instinct activated immediately, sweeping away any complex tactical consideration. Without losing a precious fraction of a second, he rushed toward the dragon with the violence of an avalanche.
His right hand instantly covered itself with dark and solid scales, jet black marbled with reddish veins, gleaming faintly in the darkness with an unsettling metallic sheen. These scales, harder than tempered steel, transformed his fist into a formidable weapon of war. Then, with phenomenal speed that distorted the air around him, he launched a devastating punch toward Peter's surprised face.