The white Dragonlord pressed Borealis's head down like a ruler standing over all beneath heaven.
Just before Borealis's skull could shatter, the ice field that had risen and fallen like waves split apart first. Countless spiderweb cracks spread rapidly across it.
Those cracks burst open beneath the dragons, tearing great holes through the ice as if the entire frozen plain had been ripped apart in that instant.
In the blink of an eye, those once-proud legendary Flying Dragons seemed to have fallen into a bone-freezing hell.
In the darkness, the light reflected from the White Dragonlord's Scale Armor shone like a bright mirror, flashing again and again across Borealis's face, which was twisted in utter terror.
Borealis's wings had been torn to tatters in the violent collision. Its hard scales had been stripped away, revealing the flesh and blood beneath.
Its once-mighty body now looked so fragile and helpless.
As the legendary Flying Dragon that had ruled the Consecrated Snowfield for long ages, Borealis could only wait to be slaughtered. Its opponent trampled over it like a Lord ascending the throne atop a mound of bones.
The force born from the clash of those colossal beasts far exceeded the sea's ability to support them.
Borealis felt as though it had completely lost control of its body. The white Dragonlord's claws seemed to fill every direction.
Those claws were everywhere. One moment they were above its head, the next at its throat, and at the same time they seemed to be squeezing its heart, filling it with fear and despair unlike anything it had ever known.
In legend, Borealis was a vicious, savage dragon whose name alone made others tremble.
Yet at this moment, that terrifying dragon could only let out roar after roar.
Those roars did nothing to change its situation, but they were the only way it could resist, even slightly, the crushing pressure that felt as if its very existence were being ground away.
Borealis felt that devastating power without pause. Its body was gradually broken down by it, leaving it unable to resist any longer.
Finally, when the last brutal impact crushed it deep into the seabed, the white figure had already raised its head high, looking down at the defeated dragon in the posture of a victor.
Behind that white figure, its dragon wings hung low like a vast cloak, making it appear even more majestic and domineering.
As for Borealis, it silently lowered its head and growled toward the white dragon. It was a gesture of respect.
It offered respect to the man who had utterly suppressed it, the monster among humans, the new Lord of the Flying Dragons.
Nolan had crushed all the arrogance and wildness of the Flying Dragon, turning the legendary dragon into a wild dog begging for mercy.
Borealis could no longer even stay standing. It could only lie humbly in the mud and let the surrounding seawater mercilessly wash over its wounds.
Behind the high walls of Elphael, Leda and her companions had also witnessed the battle between those enormous creatures. One young man shuddered hard.
"What a monster."
"Do you mean Borealis... or Nolan?" Leda asked.
"Both," Arl said, shrinking his neck.
"Then be glad the monster is on our side."
Leda slapped the Cleanrot Knight on the shoulder. "But speaking ill of your Lord behind his back is not something a knight should do. Write me a report when you get back."
"Now that you mention it, that guy really is my Lord now. But you're not actually my superior, are you?" Arl asked.
Leda did not answer him and simply continued.
"Go gather the soldiers. Calm the frightened people. The guards cannot relax either. Are you wasting time because you're waiting for His Highness Miquella and Princess Malenia to come blame us?"
"But is it really fine to rush into cleaning things up? Is the battle over?" Arl lowered his head and looked toward the sea.
Even a champion was still flesh and blood. No matter how wide he opened his eyes, he could not see through things. The last thing he had seen was Nolan standing on Borealis's head.
Though Nolan had held the upper hand the entire time and had even driven the dragon into the sea to avoid involving the city, no one could say how a battle would end until the very last moment.
What if that Flying Dragon suddenly erupted with power at the end and killed His Majesty, the Goddess's one and only appointed Lord? The Haligtree's last grand performance of the "Lord's return" had ended in failure.
"If His Majesty were going to lose, His Royal Highness the Prince would be far more anxious than you," Leda said, turning her head slightly toward the nearby stairs.
Arl turned back and quickly spotted a striking figure in his sight. The red-haired Demigod was walking over in quick steps, yet there was no panic on his face.
Arl was still worried, but he chose to trust the Demigod's judgment. That was a famously devoted son. If even he was not anxious, what was Arl rushing for?
A hundred meters below, at the Empyrean residence, rain was also pouring down in sheets. Lightning split the clouds from time to time, and the unceasing gale had long since blown the windows open, sending the white curtains flying in disarray.
Yet that chaos remained only on the surface.
Deeper underground, shadows passed through the darkness and entered the small room at the very depths. Before long, they came out again and returned to the shadows, waiting for orders.
Inside the room lit by the hearth, white stone slabs covered the floor, filling every corner.
Two childlike figures sat on the floor, and the atmosphere was oppressively heavy.
"What happened?" the adorable Goddess Trina asked, breaking the silence. The one who had just left had been the boy's eyes and ears.
Miquella was a clever half, and information was essential for any wise person to make use of his intelligence. On his own territory, of course he would not allow himself to become blind with his eyes open.
It could be said that even in this secret place buried deep underground, they still knew every movement in the city.
"A Flying Dragon broke in and caused chaos in the city. The knights cannot stop it," Miquella said coldly.
"What kind of Flying Dragon is that powerful? Let Malenia handle it," Trina said without thinking.
"It is Borealis," Miquella said.
"...Then have my sister and Finlay drive it back together?" Trina asked uncertainly.
Miquella sighed. "Nolan will handle it."
"Nolan? Ah, then what's there to worry about? Nolan will definitely defeat the evil dragon!" Trina raised her hands and jumped up.
"What if Nolan is one of those 'evil dragons' too?"
"Then he can come steal away the beautiful princess. Isn't that how fairy tales go?"
"You aren't saying the beautiful princess is yourself, are you?" Miquella asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Who else would it be?"
Trina put her hands on her hips as she spoke. She was, after all, the proper daughter of the Eternal Queen, Princess of the Golden Order Dynasty.
"In the eyes of the world, you are part of me. Mother does not have a daughter named Trina. If we truly have to say it, Malenia is the Golden Order Dynasty's only princess," Miquella said.
"So that means Nolan will steal Malenia away?" Trina's eyes widened. "No, I don't want that. I have to protect Malenia. If he's going to steal someone, he can steal me."
"Is that really protecting her?" Miquella glanced at Trina.
"Of course it is. An older sister should protect her younger sister," Trina said, standing proudly with her chest out.
"I hope so. But instead of wasting time on this, let's think about what gift to give Nolan," Miquella said.
"A Lord who will one day leave behind a legend should hold a legend in his hands. So prepare your Divine Power, Great Goddess, and let the world know whose Lord he is!"