138: Chapter 138 Biting and Killing

Drogon opened his mouth.

Not to spew Dragon Breath. To bite.

In close combat among the Dragon Clan, Dragon Breath was the most dazzling weapon, but dragon teeth were the ultimate trump card.

A Dragon could burn through an enemy's scales with Dragon Breath, but only dragon teeth could crush an enemy's vital points.

Drogon's dragon teeth—each one strengthened by the ancestral Dragon Bloodline, with tips harder than valyrian steel—bit into the root of the Space-Time Dragon Captain's left wing.

The tips of his teeth pierced the translucent silvery-white scales, tore through the wing membrane, penetrated the subcutaneous fat layer, and bit into the Chronos Dragon's spatial gland.

The spatial gland was the most sensitive and fragile organ in a Chronos Dragon's entire body—it was responsible for perceiving every minute fluctuation in the surrounding space and transmitting the information to the brain.

When Drogon's dragon teeth bit into the gland, the Space-Time Dragon Captain shuddered—it was not a reaction to pain, but a physiological reaction to the sudden failure of his Space Perception System.

It was like a person suddenly going blind; it wasn't that their eyes hurt, but that they had completely lost their sense of spatial orientation.

Ice Fire gushed out from between his teeth.

Ancient Valyrian Dragon Magic: Bloodline Burning Ice Fire spread in all directions along the energy channels inside the gland.

Deep blue ice crystals condensed inside the gland, dropping the precision of the Space Perception organ from "decreased by twenty percent" to "decreased by sixty percent".

The energy channels inside the gland were blocked by ice crystals, and every pulse brought a sharp, stabbing pain—not the pain of the dragon teeth's bite, but the pain of the Ice Element condensing and expanding within the spatial energy channels.

The Space-Time Dragon Captain let out a dragon roar mixed with rage and excruciating pain—this was the first time he had made a sound in the entire battle, not Ancient Valyrian Dragon Magic: Consciousness Communication, but a true dragon roar, a primal howl erupting from the depths of his throat.

The soundwaves of the dragon roar bounced off the walls of King's Landing, shattering over a dozen loose bricks. The surviving ballista operators on the wall crouched down, covering their ears, with some bleeding from their noses.

He violently shook his left wing, and Ancient Valyrian Dragon Magic: Space-Time Fold swirled wildly beneath his wing. The Space-Time Folds were no longer under his precise control, instead spreading in all directions in a semi-uncontrolled manner.

The edges of the folds swept across the walls of King's Landing, slicing off a corner of the spires of several towers.

Drogon was thrown back. He flipped twice in the air, braked with his wingtips, and stabilized himself just before crashing into an abandoned bell tower.

In his mouth, he still held a scale fragment bitten off from the Chronos Dragon's gland—the edges of the translucent, silvery-white scale were stained with dark golden remnants of Ice Fire.

The fragment gleamed with a deep blue light under the moonlight, and the glandular tissue on it was still twitching slightly.

He spat out the scale fragment, the silver-gray rims of his vertical pupils glinting coldly amidst the Ice Fire.

"Your Space Perception precision is down to forty percent. Your Space Folding can now only distort about thirty percent of ranged attacks. Do you know what that means?"

The Space-Time Dragon Captain did not answer. He hovered in the sky above King's Landing, the wound at the root of his left wing still oozing silvery-white dragon blood—a bodily fluid unique to Chronos Dragons, thinner than normal dragon blood, but every drop contained the energy of space distortion.

As the silvery-white blood drops fell through the air, the surrounding space warped slightly, like the surface of water after a stone is thrown in.

The flapping frequency of his left wing was noticeably slower than his right, and the ice crystal blockage in his spatial gland made his Space Perception intermittent—like a person looking at things through a fog, sometimes clear and sometimes blurry.

His vertical pupils stared at Drogon, and for the first time, something beyond combat assessment appeared in his eyes—not fear, but the prudent re-evaluation of an enforcer facing an opponent who was outside the scope of assessment.

"It means your Ice Fire can hit me now," he said.

"Yes."

Drogon spread his wings, the Ice Fire burning into two deep blue arcs along the edges of his wing membranes.

The ice crystal armor of Ancient Valyrian Dragon Magic: Pseudo-Ice Dragon Form had partially shattered during the collision just now, and the remaining parts were automatically self-repairing—ice crystals regrew from the surface of his scales like a constantly self-renewing ice membrane.

Dragon Breath condensed in his throat.

This time, it was not a broad fan shape, nor was it the diffuse breath of Rhaegal's Ancient Valyrian Dragon Magic: Sky-Burning Breath, nor the piercing beam of Viserion's Ancient Valyrian Dragon Magic: Radiant Breath.

This was a compressed version of Ancient Valyrian Dragon Magic: Bloodline Burning Ice Fire—compressing the Ice Fire beam to its limit to increase its penetrating power and projectile speed.

The hum of the Dragon Breath churning in his throat was higher in frequency than before, so high that even the tiles on the roofs of Flea Bottom were resonating.

At the same time, the Space-Time Dragon Captain condensed the strongest defensive version of Ancient Valyrian Dragon Magic: Space-Time Fold.

Transparent spatial ripples unfolded layer upon layer in front of him—not just one layer, but seven.

Each layer could distort trajectories, and stacking seven layers could deflect most ranged attacks completely away from their target.

But this time, the Space-Time Fold unfolded slower than usual—the ice crystal blockage in his spatial gland reduced his Spell casting speed by at least thirty percent.

The Ice Fire beam erupted.

The deep blue beam, laced with dark golden Bloodline Burning, carved a straight pillar of light through the night sky.

When the beam struck the first layer of the Space-Time Fold, it was deflected by about fifteen degrees—but the Ice Element within the Ice Fire condensed a thin layer of ice on the fold, lowering its distortion rate.

The second layer of the fold deflected it by about ten degrees. The third layer deflected it by only five degrees.

Starting from the fourth layer, cracks began to appear in the folds under the continuous impact of the Ice Fire—not physical cracks, but energy cracks that appeared after the stability of the Space-Time Fold itself was eroded by the Ice Element.

The fifth, sixth, and seventh layers of folds were already unstable by the time the Ice Fire beam pierced the first three layers. The energy cracks in the Space-Time Folds continued to expand under the erosion of the Ice Element, and the beam completely broke through at the fifth layer.

The Ice Fire beam pierced through the remaining two layers of folds and shot straight toward the root of the Space-Time Dragon Captain's left wing.

A direct hit.

The Ice Fire exploded upon the exposed wound of the spatial gland.

Deep blue flames and silvery-white spatial energy intertwined at the point of impact, forming a constantly expanding sphere of light.

The core temperature of the sphere of light was extremely high—not the temperature of fire, but the annihilation temperature released when the Ice Element and spatial energy annihilated each other.

Countless ice crystal fragments and spatial shards spewed from the edges of the sphere, clinking finely as they collided in the air, like someone shattering countless invisible mirrors above King's Landing.

The ice crystals refracted countless tiny rainbows upon the spatial shards—rainbows that existed for less than a heartbeat before being torn apart by the shockwave. The sphere of light expanded to a diameter of about fifty meters before starting to collapse, emitting a strange sucking sound as it did, as if space itself was healing its wound.

The root of the Space-Time Dragon Captain's left wing was burned by the Ice Fire, leaving a charred wound about two meters in diameter.

The scales were burned through, a hole with irregular edges was burned into the wing membrane, and the spatial gland was completely exposed under the erosion of the Ice Element.

The glandular tissue was burned to a charred black by the Ice Fire, but the blackness was laced with deep blue ice crystals—and the ice crystals were continuing to spread deep into the gland.

His Space Perception precision plummeted to less than twenty percent.

Ancient Valyrian Dragon Magic: Space-Time Fold went completely out of control—every flap of his wingtips generated irregular Space-Time Folds. The folds were no longer under his control, instead randomly distorting the surrounding air.

Several out-of-control folds swept across the walls of King's Landing, shaving off another layer of stone from the already severed battlements.

He hovered in the sky above King's Landing, the flapping frequency of his left wing now so slow that he could barely maintain cruising altitude.

For the first time, a hint of retreat appeared in his silvery-white vertical pupils—not fear, but the instinctive retreat-assessment of an experienced hunter upon realizing the prey was far more dangerous than estimated.

"...You weren't begging for mercy. You were executing a hunt plan targeted at me."

His voice echoed in Drogon's consciousness, his tone no longer that of a judge reading a verdict, but a confirmation between hunters.

"You used the Gold Cloaks' ballistas to wear down my mount. You used the protection of The Old Gods to interfere with the Apostle's tracking. You attacked my spatial gland in your ice dragon form—you knew my weakness from the very beginning."

Drogon tucked his wings slightly, letting his altitude drop by a few meters, adjusting his angle of attack from horizontal to a slight upward tilt—this way, the next Ice Fire beam could shoot directly into the exposed wound of the spatial gland, burning through his left wing from the inside.

"Yes. I knew from the very beginning."

He paused, the silver-gray rims of his vertical pupils glinting coldly amidst the Ice Fire.

"Your spatial gland is now completely exposed.

My next Ice Fire beam will shoot right into it. Your Space Folding is now out of control—you cannot dodge it.

You have two choices. One, retreat. Two, die here."

The Space-Time Dragon Captain went silent for a breath. Then, he slowly folded his wings, pulling his hovering altitude up by thirty meters.

This was not an offensive stance—it was a negotiating stance. Every flap of his left wing brought intense pain, as the ice crystal blockage in his spatial gland had already spread to the main vascular network of the wing membrane.

"...Your terms."

"Tell me every single word of the execution record of the Storm Devourer. Then, take your Enforcement Squad and leave this plane. Tell your Senate—DK-0001 is not a variable. DK-0001 is the successor."

The Space-Time Dragon Captain's silvery-white vertical pupils locked onto Drogon's dark golden vertical pupils from a distance of three hundred meters.

Ice crystals drifted slowly through the air between the two dragons, like a silent snowfall. The aftermath of the annihilation between the Ice Element and spatial energy lingered above the battlefield—there was a very faint smell of ozone in the air, a residual ionization left behind after space was torn apart.

"Deal," he said.