Chapter Ninety-Seven: What Are You Looking At

The black dragon originally couldn’t understand the language of werewolves. It had crammed a few… well, to be honest, it had simply devoured a few scrolls of Comprehend Languages before setting out, and suddenly its mind cleared, granting it the ability to understand the speech of werewolves.

At first, it merely wanted to watch the drama unfold. However, the black dragon’s presence was far too imposing. Even under cover of night, even moving as stealthily as possible, it was still quickly discovered by both sides locked in confrontation.

Then, to its surprise, the werewolves and hellhounds abruptly ceased their hostilities, turning in unison to face this uninvited black dragon.

"Emmmm…"

The black dragon had little to say about this. After all, its notorious reputation preceded it—stories had circulated for who knew how many years. The werewolves and hellhounds might have their differences, but some kinship and ancient ties still bound them. The dragon, however—greedy, domineering, a true invader—was a mortal enemy to them both!

Antu, after all, was a progressive werewolf who had studied in the Summer Country, and the hellhounds had long served under powerful beings. They well understood the distinction between primary and secondary enemies.

"Roar!"

Seeing its presence so unwelcome, the black dragon couldn’t be bothered to argue. It immediately shifted into battle mode and lunged fiercely at one of the hellhounds.

At first, the hellhound bared its fangs, ready to grapple with the dragon. But as the black dragon’s massive form—hundreds of tons of muscle and momentum—came crashing down, overwhelming all with its sheer force…

This legendary hound, so fearsome and ugly, weighing several tons at least, whimpered, tucked its tail, and turned to flee.

Emmmm… Was it really that cowardly?

The black dragon was nearly caught off guard, genuinely surprised. Wasn’t it said that hellhounds were infamous for their ferocity and courage? And this one, bred by Greer, the King of Demon Wolves, should have had ironclad fighting spirit…

By all rights, it should have put up a fight for at least a few hundred rounds. Why, at first contact, did it suddenly turn into a spinning top and bolt?

If your master finds out, he’d likely beat you to within an inch of your life!

The black dragon grumbled to itself, but its body reacted swiftly, giving chase with all its might, relentlessly pursuing the fleeing hellhound.

...

“I underestimated it. Who would have thought this dog could run so fast…”

The black dragon was somewhat frustrated. The hellhound, despite its bulk, was alarmingly quick, barreling through the wilderness like a tank. Even with the terrain limiting it, its speed often soared above one hundred kilometers per hour. The dragon chased it for over two hours without finding a real opening.

“…If I’d known, I would have brought the phoenix along to help.”

The dragon muttered, cursing its own stubborn heart for failing to trigger some adrenaline surge that might unlock new speeds and help it catch the hound.

Another hour of pursuit passed. The hellhound showed no signs of fatigue, still bursting with energy. Realizing it likely couldn’t catch it today, the black dragon was about to give up when the hellhound suddenly stopped in a mountain ravine and began barking furiously up at the dragon circling overhead—

“Rage! Rage! Rage!”

Its voice was like a broken gong, grating and hideous. The black dragon guessed nothing pleasant was being said and didn’t bother letting the language spell translate. It even instructed its auditory nerves to filter out the noise entirely.

“…Weren’t you just cowering? Why so bold all of a sudden?”

Unusual situations always spelled trouble. The black dragon, wary of being tripped up by a mere dog, studied the ravine carefully. Instinctively, it suspected the mutt had returned to its lair, hence its newfound confidence.

“No… If it were just its lair, that wouldn’t provide such courage. Even if it’s in its den, it still can’t defeat me. In fact, it might risk losing everything—including its home.”

“So this mountain ravine… must be more than it appears.”

Thinking thus, the black dragon didn’t rush down to crush the dog but began searching the area for large boulders to test the waters.

Power might not be its forte in flight, but in terms of strength, the black dragon was unmatched. It soon found a boulder weighing over a hundred tons, soared to a height of a thousand meters, aimed carefully, and hurled it down at the ravine.

Upon seeing this, the hellhound became frantic, firing off infernal fireballs in a desperate attempt to intercept the ‘missile.’

Miraculously, it succeeded the first time, shattering the stone before it could cause much destruction.

This confirmed the black dragon’s suspicion: something strange lay hidden within the ravine. It redoubled its efforts, fetching several more boulders, diving and spiraling to accelerate their descent, probing for blind spots in the hellhound’s defense. The two played a relentless game of attack and defense.

But a purely defensive struggle is always harder than offense. Through relentless effort, the black dragon finally broke through the hellhound’s guard, sending a boulder of over two hundred tons crashing to the bottom of the ravine.

Immediately, a small-scale landslide and earthquake erupted. A terrifying will surged from deep underground, slamming into the black dragon, sending a shiver through its entire body—not from fear, but from a strange excitement, as if every cell was electrified.

“So this place is actually an abyssal rift. You treacherous mutt, trying to lure me down so your master could ambush me!”

The black dragon stared at the hellhound, which was now prostrate, tail wagging furiously, and suddenly understood everything. No wonder the beast had found its courage; it wasn’t just relying on its own strength—it had the backing of the wolves—or rather, the wolf king!

The rift was an entrance to the Abyss. Greer, the hellhound’s master, was the King of Demon Wolves—the god of all wolves and hounds, an ancient and mighty abyssal demon lord.

“The Summer Academy has long sought a path to the Abyss, and to think I’ve stumbled right upon one.”

The black dragon eyed the rift with great interest. Connections between the material world and the Abyss or Hell were rare, especially after teleportation magic was banned and most abyssal rifts began to close. Reaching the Abyss these days was no easy feat.

The dragon felt another gaze watching it from within the darkness—silent, assessing. Yet both parties maintained a certain civility. No insults, no spitting—just mutual scrutiny.

“What are you staring at?”

In the end, the dragon couldn’t help but taunt. If it didn’t spit out those three words, it would regret it for ages, losing sleep over the missed opportunity.

But Greer didn’t get the joke and, instead of replying in kind, launched into a lengthy tirade—unfortunately, in an ancient, complex demonic tongue. The dragon’s language abilities, though broad, weren’t high-level enough to decipher such advanced speech.

Still, the dragon could guess the gist: Greer was issuing threats. After all, it had chased his hound into his very lair—an unforgivable affront. Even if Greer wasn’t a fanatical dog lover, he’d surely harbor a grudge now.

Yet the black dragon felt no remorse. If you’d just kept your dog on a leash—or better yet, not let it roam free—it wouldn’t have hurt so many innocents. Killing it would be a public service!

The standoff continued for some time, neither side gaining the upper hand, until, perhaps feeling his age, Greer abruptly withdrew, retreating back into the Abyss.

“Let’s see where you run now!”

The black dragon seized the moment, launching a predatory strike and capturing the hellhound Paros before it could react.

“See? Your loyalty means nothing to your master. He discarded you without a second thought.”

The dragon pinned the hound’s head to the ground with a triumphant claw, debating internally whether to craft a chain to restrain it—or perhaps break its legs, just in case.

“Whimper…”

The hellhound struggled fiercely, forcing even the mighty dragon to exert all its strength to restrain it.

This posed a dilemma. Without some way to truly subdue the beast, the only option was to half-kill it just to bring it back. But the idea of a dragon biting a dog, outside of battle, was a bit undignified.

Reluctantly, the dragon sought advice from its all-purpose, if not quite omnipotent, heart.

Fortunately, the heart had a solution: for a mere thousand—no, five hundred—grams of gold, it could produce a drop of black-gold dragon blood.

This potent blood, infused with powerful laws and curses, would act much like a contract, granting the dragon control over the hellhound.

Black-gold dragon blood…

The dragon realized its heart was quite the entrepreneur. First it hawked gold dragon blood, and now black-gold. Would there soon be platinum, red-gold, or green-gold dragon blood as well?

“Five hundred grams? No way. One hundred, tops!”

Somewhat intrigued by the black-gold dragon blood, the dragon saw its potential as a tool for controlling extraordinary employees in the future. But business was business—even with one’s own heart, bargaining was essential.

Hadn’t the heart started at a thousand grams? Then, deciding that was too much, dropped to five hundred? The dragon suspected even that was inflated and pressed for the lowest price.

After some haggling, the dragon secured a drop for 180 grams of gold and applied it to the hellhound.

Surprisingly, it worked quite well. The hellhound didn’t suddenly become fawning or obsequious, but compared to before, it was significantly more obedient, following simple commands at least.

With the task complete, the black dragon was ready to return. But first, it needed to memorize this location—perhaps the Summer Academy’s researchers could explore it later.

After all, the Summer Country was as interested in the depths of the earth—Abyss and Hell included—as in the heavens. Previously, there’d been no way to access them, but now that the dragon had found an abyssal rift, it was worth serious investigation.

Finding the way back wouldn’t be hard. It had only been a short while, and the hellhound’s trail was still fresh. Following it would easily lead back to the Summer Country.

Now, the dragon’s main concern was fixing the location in its mind—after all, it was over four hundred kilometers away. If it didn’t remember, it might never find it again.

“No longitude, no satellites—navigation really is a pain…”

The black dragon grumbled, searching for landmarks but finding none suitable. It decided to ascend for a better view.

Three thousand meters, five thousand, ten thousand…

Circling higher, the dragon climbed. It would have preferred a vertical ascent—much cooler and quicker—but its wings weren’t strong enough yet to provide that much lift.

The dragon didn’t rely on oxygen, so ten thousand meters above the ground felt much the same as sea level.

“So that’s where it is…”

Looking down, the dragon compared the terrain to the map in its mind, fixing the rift’s location.

Just as it finished, it caught sight of a thundercloud in the distance, lightning flashing within—a spectacular sight.

Curiosity piqued, the dragon flew closer to investigate.

Now that it was a major consumer of electricity, its senses for electronic and electric potential were keen. It could tell that within this cloud, there was no obvious difference in electric potential. Instead, another kind of energy—or perhaps element—was gathering, colliding, and finally releasing as lightning.

But what that energy or element was, the dragon couldn’t quite say.

“Why not test it—see if foreign lightning is any different from domestic lightning?”

The dragon was eager. Even before, it had felt the urge to be struck by natural lightning. After all, lightning carried immense voltage. Perhaps it would have unexpected effects on a dragon’s body.