Grey Goat

Dago looked mildly satisfied as he watched the Great Ice Serpent submit.

Its enormous head hung low, its scales scraping against the wasteland gravel with a teeth-grating rustle.

Two jets of white frost breath shot from the Great Ice Serpent's nostrils, coating the ground in a thin layer of frost. Its slit pupils, once filled with savagery, now trembled slightly, reflecting Dago's impassive face.

This past month or so had ostensibly been spent traveling, but in reality, it had been spent taming.

Dago had used no gentle methods to soothe it. In the world of wizards, obedience came from absolute domination through strength.

Whenever the Great Ice Serpent showed even a trace of restless wildness, Dago precisely directed his mental power into the most vulnerable point of its consciousness like a scalpel. It was not fatal, but it sent shudders straight through its soul.

He had to admit that the Great Ice Serpent's current strength was quite terrifying.

Coiled there, it resembled a small mountain built from ice crystals and flesh.

Even in submission, the cold radiating from its body instantly froze the withered yellow weeds around it into powder.

Three years ago, the second purification of Dago's bloodline had been both a tremendous gamble and a brutal act of plunder.

Without question, the one that had made the greatest "sacrifice" for him was the creature before him, which was practically burying its head in the dirt.

Dago slowly reached out, his pale, slender fingers stroking the Great Ice Serpent's cold, rough scales.

All he remembered was waking from the blood cocoon with his blood boiling throughout his body, a sense of power that made every cell seem to cheer in delight. It had stood in stark, ironic contrast to the Great Ice Serpent's wretched condition.

What a dreadful state