Every warrior on the field—and even Talulah herself—stood transfixed, unable to find the words to describe the complex web of emotions twisting through their chests.
They could hardly believe such a creature truly existed. Could a living entity of such terrifying magnitude honestly be commanded by a mere human?
While the imperial soldiers had previously managed to summon the courage to fight the smaller wyverns, spurred on by the strict warnings of their patrons, they now looked up and realized that sheer courage was utterly useless.
At this stage, unless Ursus desired to embroil itself in a catastrophic, nationwide war of attrition with Reunion—a conflict that would yield zero benefit and massive devastation—the empire would be far better off treating these infected as complete phantoms, invisible to the eye.
Even the veterans within Reunion were too stunned to speak. Though Jeanne had previously dropped a few subtle hints to prepare them, witnessing the reality forced them into a heavy, bewildered silence.
Good heavens... is that monstrous entity truly the quiet, tiny tagalong who usually clings to Jeanne's side? How does a child transform into a beast of that scale? Is this some hidden talent unique to the Draco?
Several glances shifted toward Talulah, who remained frozen on the valley floor. Many began to wonder: if their leader possessed the same ability, what would she look like? Would she be even more colossal than Fafnir?
However, FrostNova quickly noticed that something was terribly wrong with the Draco leader.
Talulah had fallen into a deep trance. She stared blankly into the clouds, her expression completely vacant as if her mind had drifted to another realm entirely.
"Talulah... Talulah! What is happening to you? Are you paralyzed by fear?" FrostNova called out, rushing forward. But as she drew closer, she realized it wasn't fear holding her friend captive. The air around the leader was beginning to distort with volatile ripples of Originium arts!
"Something is wrong! Everyone, fall back immediately! Give her a hundred meters of clearance!" FrostNova bellowed.
Hearing the alert, the surrounding squads assumed Talulah was about to undergo a similar transformation. Since Jeanne had already revealed that Fafnir belonged to the Draco, the warriors naturally assumed this titanic shape-shifting was an ancient, hereditary gift of her people.
After all, if a legendary veteran like Patriot could wield ancient Sarkaz sorcery, it seemed perfectly logical that Talulah, who carried the sovereign bloodline of her own ancient ancestors, might possess the ability to expand into a colossal avatar of destruction.
Yet Talulah lacked the focus to notice the panic around her. Her entire being was consumed by an unsettling, inexplicable sensation deep within her veins.
Something was moving through her bloodstream, a presence so distinct and overwhelming that it was impossible to dismiss as a mere trick of the mind. Within moments, a searing, white-hot heat flooded every vessel in her body.
What was this power? Talulah didn't know. She only felt that something buried in the deepest recesses of her heritage had been abruptly startled from its long slumber, awakened by the raw, unfettered majesty of Fafnir's true form.
Deep within her subconscious, the lingering consciousness of Kashchey abruptly severed all connections to his secondary vessels, focusing his entire awareness onto his surrogate daughter like an appraiser beholding a priceless, legendary artifact.
"Fascinating..." the old Duke's voice echoed in the dark corners of her mind. "So this is the heritage of the Elder race? To think that after so many generations of dilution, such an terrifying power still slumbers within these veins... No, it would be more accurate to say it was triggered by a resonant authority."
Kashchey understood precisely what was unfolding within Talulah. The ancient Draco bloodline was being violently shaken from its sleep—a miraculous awakening unique to that ancient sovereign race.
Just as the Hippogriffs of old possessed their own ancestral mysteries, the Draco held a legacy that had long since fallen into a historical decline.
It was during that period of dilution that the common Ancient races gained the leverage to overthrow the weakened Elder race dynasties. Kashchey himself had witnessed the fall of the Hippogriff Empire, watching their domain crumble when their inherent power waned, leaving them to be replaced by the rising strength of the Ursus bears.
That decline was the very reason the ancient Dracos had been forced to share the governance of Victoria with the lions; their inherited lineage had grown fragile over generations, showing no signs of revival.
Yet, who could have predicted that the long-lost splendor of Victoria's ancient rulers would manifest within this mixed-blood exile? Destiny truly possessed a wicked sense of irony.
The searing heat within Talulah grew increasingly intense, making her feel as though her very flesh was about to ignite, urging her to unleash her primary elements.
But with her comrades still nearby, she couldn't afford to let her focus slip. She poured every ounce of her willpower into suppressing the boiling sensation, desperately fighting the urge to let the inferno erupt.
"There is no longer any need to hold back. Your people have already cleared the area," Kashchey's voice provided a timely reassurance, allowing Talulah to breathe a quiet sigh of relief.
The ancient Duke continued to observe the awakening with rapt attention. Instances of Elder race heritage reviving on Terra were exceptionally rare in recorded history, and for him to witness one firsthand was an extraordinary stroke of fortune.
Just to observe this moment makes the decades spent nurturing this vessel entirely worthwhile, he mused.
The moment Talulah relaxed her internal restraint, an absolute tempest of fire enveloped her form. A localized inferno erupted, scorching everything within a fifty-meter radius and forcing the remaining scouts to scramble even further away.
One curious soldier tossed a discarded iron blade toward the blazing sphere. To everyone's horror, the weapon dissolved into liquid iron before it could even get within twenty meters of her position, offering a grim testament to the terrifying temperature of her aura.
While the vanguard worried for their leader's safety, they didn't realize that the flames were merely a byproduct. The true marvel was the ancient authority awakening beneath the heat.
High above the clouds, Fafnir instantly sensed the familiar, resonant energy. It was a dragon's flame, mirroring her own ancient lineage, though Talulah's current awakening could still never hope to rival the sheer magnitude of a true dragon's power.
Yet, while Fafnir's attention was briefly drawn toward the ground, a few panicked artillery crews on the ridges lost their composure. Interpreting her stillness as an opening, they unleashed a frantic salvo, sending a barrage of heavy shells slamming into her massive form in a succession of loud detonations.
The explosions didn't cause her any actual pain. The density of her scales far surpassed that of any ordinary wyvern; the heavy iron rounds detonated against her armor without leaving so much as a single scratch on her hide.
However, the gesture thoroughly angered the dragon.
She turned her cold, furious gaze upon the artillery positions, seemingly unable to comprehend why these insignificant ants still dared to strike her while her attention was turned. With a sharp snap of her massive wings, she unleashed a devastating localized gale.
Within a heartbeat, a hurricane-force wind tore through the battery positions. Heavy, reinforced artillery pieces were ripped from their anchors and tossed into the turbulent sky, while the common soldiers and stacks of ammunition were swept away into the mountain fog.
A dozen seconds later, a series of muffled explosions echoed from the distant peaks as the lost ordnance finally struck the far ridges.
With that single display, the morale of the imperial soldiers collapsed entirely. How is a human army supposed to fight a living natural disaster? Are the high nobles in the capital completely insane? We were sent here like livestock to a slaughterhouse!
They had never encountered a blunder of this magnitude, nor had they ever imagined that they would be the ones paying the price for such foolish leadership.
What were they supposed to do now? They were merely private mercenaries fighting for a paycheck. Even if they had prepared themselves to die in battle, no one desired to perish in such a thoroughly helpless fashion.
Several platoons prepared to raise the white flag, but before the words of surrender could leave their lips, a descending wall of fire enveloped the ridges, reducing them to ash within the blink of an eye.
Fafnir was thoroughly enraged. Even during the dark campaigns of Kazdel, she had never been subjected to such a cheap surprise attack. To think these insects would dare strike her while her mind was occupied!
She would teach them the true consequence of provoking a dragon. If they had summoned the audacity to anger Fafnir, they would now have to endure the full measure of her wrath.
A cascade of ruinous, terrifying fire rained down from the sky as the furious dragon sought to completely erase the opposing force from the valley floor. Her airborne inferno perfectly mirrored the blazing aura surrounding Talulah on the ground, creating a grimly beautiful display of synchronized destruction.
But to the surviving witnesses trapped within the canyon, the spectacle could only be described by a single phrase: a living Catastrophe had descended upon the snowfields.