Vandal stepped forward, his fury unconcealed.
"I have no fondness for you Black Dragons, and even less trust in your so-called Dracthyr," he snarled, gritting his teeth. "During the War of the Ancients, Deathwing betrayed us!"
Nefarian subtly used his tail to restrain Sakares, who was about to act.
"Stay still," he whispered, then looked directly at Vandal, his tone softening slightly: "Druid, I am not here to argue with you."
"If you truly care about the safety of this World Tree, you should understand that we are not enemies."
"On the contrary, we should even be allies. Because we were sent by the deity who planted this tree, there is no possibility of us harming it."
He paused, lowering his voice further, "As for my father—Deathwing's betrayal—that is an undeniable fact."
At this, he uncharacteristically lowered his head and bowed formally to Vandal.
The movement was swift and decisive, so fast that Toka thought he had merely imagined it.
"As his descendant, I apologize for the crimes he committed."
This action stunned everyone present; no one expected the usually arrogant Black Dragon to humble himself in such a way.
This unexpected apology was like a basin of cold water poured on Vandal's churning anger; though not entirely extinguished, it no longer raged uncontrollably.
His gaze was sharp, and he remained silent for a long time, finally saying coldly: "An apology is useless. Trust cannot be rebuilt, but I acknowledge your attitude today."
"However, I will be watching you. If you dare to touch a single branch—even a single leaf—of this tree, I will let the entire forest swallow you."
Nefarian nodded slightly, accepting this reluctant "tolerance."
He turned and commanded loudly: "Steelgaze Camp, deploy your defenses! Scaled Camp, go to the western hills and set up tents!"
The Dracthyrs immediately sprang into action, swift and orderly, transforming into a disciplined wave, silent yet sharp-edged.
Nefarian did not look at Vandal again. His gaze swept over Ambrossa, who was directing the construction of defensive works, and Sakares, who was on guard in the distance, finally settling on Toka.
"Little one, you are Toka, aren't you?" he asked calmly, his tone unreadable.
Toka, who had been called out, was startled, his lips moving but no sound coming out.
Nefarian's head drew closer, his voice softening: "No need to be nervous. My mentor, your deity, told me to inform you: this place will be my responsibility from now on. You can focus on other mundane matters."
Toka was silent for a few seconds, his gaze lowered.
"If that's truly the case…"
He spoke slowly, carefully choosing each word in front of the powerful great dragon, "Then I understand."
He did not feel he had any possibility of expressing dissent.
Besides, this was, after all, the Dragon God's arrangement; he had no right to refuse, nor any desire to refuse.
"What about the other trolls?" Toka asked, his tone now steady again, "I plan to depart for Ital'ruk tomorrow; I have urgent matters."
"Everything else remains as before," Nefarian answered decisively, "They will do as they did before."
He turned to look at the Dracthyr soldiers nearby, "Furthermore, I will arrange for some Dracthyrs to participate in the sermons. Of course, it's not mandatory."
"Because they must understand you, and they must be understood."
A dividing line. Toka set off that night, riding a Proto-Dragon.
It wasn't Frost Fang, but another mature Proto-Dragon—this was Nefarian's decision.
"Frost Fang must stay," the Black Dragon's tone was unyielding, "As the Pioneer Territory's only Proto-Dragon priest, he can provide unique help in preaching to the Dracthyrs."
Toka did not argue, only sighed inwardly.
You overestimate Frost Fang too much.
From his understanding of that clumsy Proto-Dragon, it would be a miracle if he could stay on topic during a sermon, and completely presiding over a ritual was a luxury.
However, these were no longer his concerns.
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