After getting a rough picture of the situation here, Zong Shen withdrew his gaze.
His figure vanished once more.
The next instant, he appeared in the sky above the wasteland.
Below, Little Blackie was still carrying out a preliminary reorganization of the surrendered red dragon followers and his own black dragon followers.
Dragon-blood orcs, fire salamanderfolk, fire bats, and other dragonkin creatures had all accepted their new ruler under the threat of force and the constraints of soul oaths.
The key workshops, mines, and pastures had been taken over by Little Blackie's personal troops.
Although the whole scene still looked chaotic.
Little Blackie's own order was slowly taking shape.
Just then, a disturbance came from deep within the rift.
A dark red figure was flying unsteadily toward them.
It was the Flame Lord, Alexstrasza · Song of Blazing Flame.
She flew slowly, her wings beating feebly.
Her enormous body traced a crooked path through the air.
The wounds on her neck and right forelimb had been roughly treated, with dark green ointment smeared over them.
But her scales were broken and curled back in many places, stripped of their former molten-lava sheen.
Her eyes were vacant. Nothing remained in her pale golden slit pupils but bottomless exhaustion and numbness.
The pride and ferocity that had once belonged to a legendary red dragon lord had been utterly crushed.
She looked like nothing more than a shell drained of its soul.
The Flame Lord flew over the wasteland. She looked neither at Little Blackie nor at the chaotic followers below, simply heading straight toward her palace deep within the rift.
Her movements were stiff, like those of a marionette.
Little Blackie raised his head and watched the Flame Lord recede into the distance, a low rumble rising from his throat.
The sound