Chapter 118: Negotiating with A Dragon

Chapter 118: Chapter 118: Negotiating with A Dragon

Theon looked around, assessing the battlefield with the eyes of a commander.

Fen had already begun tearing through the undead with bolts of primordial thunder, each strike purifying the corrupted corpses and releasing whatever fragments of souls remained trapped within.

Ifrith was fighting beside him, his primordial flames destroying the dark mana controlling the corpses. Each undead that fell released a faint, grateful sigh—the sound of a soul finally allowed to rest.

Lazaria had joined them, her unique abilities complementing their efforts as she worked to contain the spread of corruption.

Silver and Seraphina were helping stabilize the surrounding area, ensuring that the battle didn’t spill beyond the forest’s boundaries.

The others could handle themselves so turned his attention toward the east.

A roar shook the entire forest—primal, ancient, and filled with a rage that predated human knowledge.

The ground trembled beneath his feet, cracking under the weight of something that should not exist in this age.

There.

Theon crouched, coiling his muscles like a spring.

Then launched himself into the sky.

BOOM!

He shot through the trees, branches and leaves exploding outward from the force of his departure.

The wind slammed against his face, cold and sharp, but he barely felt it.

Another roar echoed—closer now but louder.

Theon accelerated.

The forest below became a blur of white and gray and green.

Then he saw it.

The Ancient True Primordial Frost Dragon.

It stood among the trees like a living mountain—impossibly vast, old and powerful. Its scales were silver-white, each one gleaming like polished ice, reflecting the pale light of the night sky. Its icy eyes glowed with ancient power—the accumulated wisdom and wrath of millennia.

Every breath it released carried a terrifying cold, the air itself crystallizing around its nostrils and the surrounding trees were coated in frost, their branches bowed under the weight of the dragon’s presence.

The air itself seemed to freeze around its body, reality bending to accommodate something that had existed before the concept of "impossible" was conceived.

Theon slowed his descent.

He hadn’t even landed when the dragon’s tail swung toward him—a wall of muscle and ice moving with the speed of a striking serpent.

WHOOSH!

Theon twisted through the air, his body contorting in ways that would have broken lesser men.

The enormous tail passed beneath him, close enough to feel the displaced air ruffle his clothes.

He landed on a frozen branch, his feet finding purchase on the slippery surface with practiced ease.

Then the dragon turned.

Its enormous head lowered, those ancient eyes fixing on him with a mixture of curiosity and contempt.

And it roared out loud.

ROOOOOAR!

The force of the roar shook the trees, sending icicles raining down like frozen spears. The sound was more than noise—it was presence and power, a declaration of dominance that would have reduced lesser beings to trembling submission.

Theon raised one hand, palm out.

"Wait!"

The dragon stared at him. Unblinking and Unmoved.

"I’m not here to fight you."

Its eyes narrowed, ancient suspicion flickering in their depths.

"I’m here to talk."

The dragon’s claws dug into the frozen ground, gouging deep furrows in the ice.

Theon continued, his voice steady despite the overwhelming pressure radiating from the creature before him.

"I want you to spare everyone here." Said theon.

The dragon’s voice echoed through the forest—not sound, exactly, but something deeper. Something that resonated in the bones and the blood.

"The last human who did this..."

It paused, something flickering across its ancient features. Confusion, perhaps. Or memory.

Its eyes shifted, focusing on something beyond Theon. Something that wasn’t there.

"No."

The dragon’s expression changed slightly—a crack in its imperious mask.

"She wasn’t a human."

Theon frowned, his mind racing.

"What are you talking about?."

The dragon’s voice carried the weight of centuries—of memories too old and too painful to examine closely.

"But I know one thing."

Its icy eyes narrowed, focusing on Theon with laser intensity.

"Do not cause havoc in my domain."

Theon frowned, frustration flickering beneath his calm exterior. "I am not trying to cause havoc."

"You came here."

The dragon’s voice grew colder, the temperature dropping with each word.

"And now you give me a decree?"

Theon sighed internally, a lifetime of experience with dragons—and their insufferable pride—flashing through his mind.

Dragons.

Even after thousands of years, their pride remained impossible. They could accept almost anything—insults, challenges, even defeat—except being ordered around by someone they considered weaker.

And to this creature, Theon was nothing more than a child. An insect. A brief flicker of existence compared to its eternal flame.

Theon pointed toward the eastern side of the forest, his voice calm but firm.

"There are people over there."

The dragon’s gaze shifted, following his gesture.

"They are not your enemies."

Theon lowered his hand, his posture shifting from authoritative to supplicant.

"Please."

The word tasted strange on his tongue—he was not accustomed to begging—but he would swallow his pride a thousand times over if it meant protecting the innocent.

"Spare them."

The dragon remained silent, its ancient eyes unreadable.

"Return to your slumber."

The silence stretched, taut as a bowstring.

"Or leave this place."

For several seconds, the dragon remained motionless—a statue carved from ice and ancient power.

Then its eyes glowed, the light within them shifting from curiosity to cold fury.

Theon felt the temperature drop—not gradually, but all at once, as if the very concept of warmth had been erased from existence.

"Enough."

The dragon raised one claw—massive, gleaming, impossibly sharp.

"Absolute Zero."

The entire world froze.

CRACK!

A wave of absolute cold exploded outward—not cold as humans understood it, but something far more fundamental. The death of heat itself. The absence of motion, of energy, of life.

Trees froze instantly, their sap crystallizing in their veins. Rocks froze, becoming brittle and fragile. The ground became covered in a sheet of ice so thick and so cold that it seemed to exist in a reality separate from the rest of the world.

The cold reached the battlefield.

Theon looked toward Ifrith, his heart clenching.

Ice spread toward him—toward all of them.

Fen reacted immediately, his primordial instincts screaming warnings.

"Primordial Thunder Barrier!"

BOOM!

A massive sphere of lightning erupted around Ifrith, Fen, Lyra, Lazaria, Silver, Seraphina, and the others—a dome of crackling energy that crackled with the fury of a thousand storms.

The incoming frost slammed against the barrier, the collision sending shockwaves through the frozen forest.

The forest trembled but the barrier held.

Theon’s expression became serious, all traces of diplomacy fading.

"So that’s your answer."

He jumped, launching himself into the air.

The ice wave passed beneath him, freezing everything in its path.

A nearby tree froze instantly, its branches shattering from the sudden cold.

Theon landed against its frozen trunk, his fingers finding purchase on the slick surface.

The dragon stared at him, something like interest flickering in its ancient eyes.

"Oh?"

Its voice carried a trace of amusement—the first hint of something other than cold contempt.

"You could actually dodge that?"

Theon jumped away from the frozen tree, his muscles coiling for the next movement.

"I told you."

His voice was calm and controlled.

"I don’t want to fight."

The dragon’s eyes narrowed, the amusement fading.

"You should have thought about that before giving me a decree."

Its tail swept toward him—faster this time and more precise.

Theon dodged, ducking beneath the massive appendage.

A second attack followed—a claw swipe that would have torn him in half.

He jumped, the wind from the passing claw nearly knocking him off balance.

Ice javelins formed in the air around the dragon—dozens at first, then hundreds, each one gleaming with deadly intent.

They rained down like frozen meteors.

Theon moved between them, his body flowing like water around the deadly projectiles.

One passed beside his cheek, close enough to draw a thin line of blood.

Another shattered against the ground where he had been standing moments before.

The dragon opened its mouth, the temperature dropping again.

Theon saw the attack forming—the gathering of power, the crystallization of deadly cold.

"Blizzard Breath!"

FWOOM!

A massive stream of freezing energy exploded toward him—a torrent of absolute cold that could freeze a lake solid in seconds.

Theon crossed his arms, bracing himself.

The blast tore through the forest, uprooting trees and shattering rocks.

It struck him.

Blood sprayed from his body as the cold bit into his flesh, tearing through his clothes and skin. The force of the blast threw him several meters, his body tumbling through the frozen air like a ragdoll.

CRASH!

His body slammed into a stone formation, the impact cracking the ancient rock and sending fragments flying.

For a moment, everything was silent.

Then Theon slowly stood.

Blood ran down his forehead, tracing red lines across his pale skin. His clothes were torn, his body battered and his muscles screaming in pain.

He wiped the blood away.

His eyes sharpened—not with anger, but with something colder and dangerous.

"Fine."

He lowered his body, his stance shifting.

"But I’m still not fighting you."

The dragon roared, frustrated by his defiance.

Then Theon disappeared and he r...