CH486 As the Wind Blows In Pangea... I

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Meanwhile, in the Pangea Plane…

News of the interplanar travel tragedy that had befallen Earl Drake Fury's son—Alex Fury—quietly spread through the upper circles of the Virellian Empire's nobility.

These were not ordinary aristocrats.

They were juggernauts—figures who stood at the peak of not only the Virellian Empire, but the entire Arun Continent.

Being as intelligent and well-informed as they were, It didn't take long for them to put the pieces together.

And when they did, their eyes turned toward the unholy alliance formed by the heirs of Wastelander and Reichart, alongside the scion of Machholt.

All attention shifted to Ashen Castle, waiting for the Mad Earl's response.

Yet weeks passed.

Nearly a full month.

And still… nothing emerged from the City of Ashes, aside from an elevated patrol presence by its guards.

But instead of calming anyone down, it only made the nobility more uneasy.

No one mocked Earl Drake Fury for his silence.

Quite the opposite.

They feared it.

Drake Fury was infamous for his panache and unpredictability. His inaction didn't feel like hesitation, nor weakness. It felt like patience.

Like a predator lying still in tall grass.

And many suspected that when he finally struck, he wouldn't strike wildly—he would strike precisely, at the very core of each of the three Houses.

Where it would hurt the most.

Only a few people eventually realised something even more sobering.

The Houses the Earl was poised to move against were not ordinary noble families, they were a Dukedom, and two Grand Dukedoms.

When that reality truly sank in, even hardened nobles couldn't help but shudder.

Such was the infamy of the Mad Earl.

To think that everyone in power would naturally assume that a mere Earl would dare challenge three Dukes…

In fact, to the extent that they felt uneasy simply because he hadn't acted yet.

An unease that drove many to investigate further.

And in the course of their inquiries, they uncovered another detail—one that sent an even greater ripple through upper society.

The Mad Earl's cub hadn't travelled alone.

Alongside him were Zora Frost-Pendragon, daughter of the Drakeslayer…

…and Princess Eleanor Ludevicus—an Imperial Princess of the Virellian Empire, and the Elarion Empire.

The moment those names entered the conversation, the atmosphere within the noble circles changed entirely.

Because now…

This wasn't merely the tragedy of a noble heir.

It was a spark that could ignite empires.

Alas, much like the Mad Earl himself, neither the Drakeslayer nor the Imperial Family made any public statement on the matter.

In fact, rumours spread that the Imperial Sun had personally sent letters to both Ashen Castle and the DragonHold Enclave.

The message was simple:

Do not act.

The Imperial Sun had decreed that the assassination attempt against Alex Fury, Zora Frost-Pendragon, and Eleanor Ludevicus was… in line with the traditions of the Virellian Empire.

And as such, neither the Mad Earl nor the Drakeslayer could carry out retaliation without directly defying the Imperial Sun.

Such was an act of treason.

Now, all eyes turned to Ashen Castle and the main spire of DragonHold, waiting to see what these two dangerous men would do under the weight of an Imperial command.

On this day, unbeknownst to the observers watching the DragonHold Enclave…

A silver, serpentine dragon entered the Dragonspine Mountain Range.

It moved with unsettling discretion, slipping deep into the mountain range until it reached a secret location—one where an unseen portal lay hidden from mortal sight.

With trembling limbs, and a reluctance that bordered on fear, the dragon stepped through.

It did not emerge until half a day later.

When it finally returned, it flew out of the Dragonspine range like a bandit granted amnesty—fast, silent, and desperate to be gone.

Only after it had cleared the mountains did the powerful Legendary Dragon dare to open a spatial gate, vanishing toward parts unknown.

It came and left without causing even the smallest ripple.

A feat almost unheard of among dragonkind—especially among those infamous for their insufferable arrogance.

The silver Legendary Dragon reappeared above another mountain range –The DragonMourn Highlands.

It dropped like a lance from the heavens, descending into the heartland of the Highlands with violent speed—before slowing at the last moment and landing within sacred territory.

This was a place forbidden to all but the strongest dragons of the Pangea Plane.

A domain where even dragonkind needed permission to tread.

As soon as it landed, the silver dragon rose again—levitating just above the ground as though kneeling was beneath it, yet too tense to stand fully proud.

It addressed those already waiting.

They were twenty-four Elder Dragons, gathered in silent judgement.

The Elder Council.

The pinnacle of authority within the Dragon Clan of the Pangea Plane…

…and the power that made dragonkind a force feared across the entire Arun Continent.

Among them, a behemoth gold-scaled dragon—so immense the mountain beneath it could barely endure its weight—shifted.

It stirred, then turned its massive, watchtower-sized head toward the silver serpentine dragon.

"What did the Elder say, Zilbris?" it asked.

The silver dragon was indeed none other than Zilbris—the spatial dragon who had given Alex the Voidheart Core just a few months ago.

After hearing what the foolish humans had done in their desperation to earn their draconic favour—for the sake of the entire Dragon Clan of the Pangea Plane—Zilbris had been nominated…

No.

More accurately, forced, to present their case before the Elder of the Dragon Clan across the universe and the myriad planes—

The Ancient Dragon, Uthvaazgol.

They had hoped to capitalise on the arguably cordial relationship between Zilbris and Alex, using it to secure an audience with the Ancient Dragon.

To explain... To plead their innocence... To make it clear that the dragon clan had nothing to do with the disappearance of his daughter and disciple.

Zilbris, still irritated—and no small amount furious—at being pushed into such a dangerous expedition, looked at the golden elder dragon coldly.

"The Ancient One said he doesn't blame us for what happened," Zilbris announced. "He considers it the fate of his disciple and daughter."

The Elder Dragons—powerhouses of the Pangea Plane's Dragon Clan—released a collective sigh of relief.

And who could blame them?

They had witnessed the strongest among them—slain.

A true dragon well into Class 7, killed with little more than a glance.

Dragons were insufferably arrogant, yes… but they weren't delusional.

They knew when to bow their heads.

Especially when the other side was a dragon as well.

Zilbris continued, "He also ordered us not to get involved in the affairs of humans."

"Not get involved?" a feminine voice sounded.

It came from an azure dragon—one whose body was strangely smaller than the other Elder Dragons, yet whose wings were the largest among them.

"What does that mean?" she asked. "Does it mean we should decline the humans' attempts to court us?"

Zilbris's expression eased slightly.

After all, she was the only Elder Dragon present whom he still held any genuine respect for.

"I didn't dare ask," Zilbris replied. "But from his tone… I believe he doesn't want us to accept or decline the humans. We are meant to simply watch them fight amongst themselves."

"What should we do?" another dragon voiced his concern. "If we don't take a strong stance, the dragonkin and dragonoids will likely side with the humans."

"Then let them," Zilbris said flatly. "The Ancient One only wants true dragons not to interfere—to simply watch the show. If the lesser dragons wish to support or oppose the humans, then that will be their problem."

The Elder Dragons looked at Zilbris with mild surprise.

After all… he had once been counted among those 'lesser dragons' himself.

But even so, they couldn't deny he was right.

The Dragon Clan referred to all beings with dragon blood—amphipteres, wyrms, drakes, and other lesser breeds.

Yet in the eyes of the upper echelons, the true Dragon Clan consisted only of true dragons.

As such, they were far more indifferent to the plight of lesser dragons and dragonkin than most outsiders realised.

'And by letting the lesser dragons pick sides… we hedge our bets without suffering any losses,' the Elder Dragons thought.

'No matter which faction wins, they would have been helped by the "Dragon Clan".'

Brilliant.

Zilbris swept his gaze across them coldly.

A flicker of disappointment passed through his eyes.

'Since when did dragons become schemers like humans?' he thought bitterly. 'How far "dragons" have fallen.'

His eyes narrowed.

'No wonder the Ancient One doesn't care about the clan.'

In truth, Zilbris hadn't met Merlin or Uthvaazgol at all.

He had returned only because a residual force from the Ancient Dragon's lair had kicked him out—coldly and carelessly, as though he were nothing more than dust on the wind.

The Ancient Dragon couldn't even be bothered to rouse a single wisp of Will from his slumber to speak to him.

Such an act would have cost a being of his pedigree absolutely nothing… which only made the message clearer.

Uthvaazgol didn't care for the Dragon Clan.

Zilbris had feared that such indifference might eventually morph into something far more dangerous for the clan, so he had delivered a false message—hoping to keep the Elders cautious, restrained, and out of the Ancient One's way.

However, even then, he couldn't afford to take chances.

If another dragon decided to travel to the DragonHold Enclave and seek an audience with the Ancient One, his deception would be exposed instantly.

So Zilbris gave the discontented faction within the clan a path to vent their frustrations elsewhere—something loud enough to distract them, yet harmless enough not to invite the Ancient One's attention.

The fact that he himself was scheming was not lost on him.

'When one roams in muddy waters… it is impossible not to become muddy as well.'

A complicated sigh echoed through the depths of Zilbris' mind.

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