Vermithor's slit pupils were cold and indifferent, as if he had merely crushed a few insignificant insects.
Aemon's little mouth fell slightly open, giving him a direct sense of the dragon's power.
"Roar!"
Vermithor flicked his head and let out a low growl at the silver-haired boy before retreating beneath the platform.
But he had no intention of returning to sleep.
Aemon looked around and noticed a second natural opening deep within the cavern, leading straight outside Dragonmont.
That was the passage used by dragons to enter and leave.
Vermithor turned around, braced his wings against the ground and kicked up dust as he crawled toward the opening.
He was going out to hunt.
"No, I haven't even started yet."
Thinking quickly, Aemon sprinted to the edge of the platform.
The Dragonpit elders had said it before.
A well-fed dragon was easier to tame.
And if dragon-taming failed once, there would rarely be a second chance.
"I absolutely can't let go."
Aemon steeled himself, his chest heaving as he prepared.
Tonight, he would tame a dragon.
It had to be this one!
Vermithor fully turned away, his thick tail sweeping across the platform as he mercilessly ignored him.
He had no interest in accepting a master.
As an unclaimed dragon, he would rather wait for a powerful warrior than a weak hatchling hungry for power.
The weak were unworthy of touching him.
It was precisely that cold attitude that truly stirred Aemon's competitive spirit.
"Look at me, Vermithor!"
He stepped forward, his shout echoing through the cavern.
Vermithor snorted heavily and paid him no attention whatsoever.
"You can't escape."
Aemon's eyes shone as he made up his mind.
He glanced down at the height of the platform. It was only slightly higher than the broad dragon's back.
"Here I come!"