The sky was tightly shrouded in heavy leaden clouds, and the air was filled with a damp chill, as though even breathing could reveal the cold seeping out from one's bones. Occasionally, a gust of wind would pass through. Not only did it fail to bring the slightest freshness, it instead deepened the gloom of the surroundings.
The wind swept up fallen leaves and dust from the ground, sending them spinning and fluttering helplessly through the air before they finally fell heavily back down—this was witch Morgan's Ancient Castle. Distant thunder rumbled faintly, like some colossal beast growling in the depths of the skyline. It seemed like a prisoner of time, enveloped in oppressive, profound grayness.
The Ancient Dragon lay sprawled across the ground, as magnificent and imposing as a rolling mountain range. It had originally been dozing, but the instant it sensed the castle's mistress returning, it jolted awake.
"Oh! Lady Morgan, you're finally back! This is the thirty-fourth minute and forty-second second that I've missed you!" It spoke in human words, its tone and expression brimming with fawning eagerness.
Ian found it hard to imagine that he could see such a meek, submissive look on a dragon's face. He realized that this Ancient Dragon had most likely been harshly "tormented" by Teacher Morgan more than once.
Hmm.
Perhaps "trained" was a more fitting word.
It even stuck out its tongue now.
"Good evening, Deathwing." Ian took the initiative to greet the Ancient Dragon. He also had a relatively friendly contract with the dragon's soul.
Of course.
That was not enough to make the Ancient Dragon treat Ian the way it treated Morgan.
"My name isn't Deathwing. I have my own name." The Ancient Dragon retorted unhappily, retracting the tongue it had just stuck out at Morgan.
The difference