Its head was narrower and longer than those of its kind. A row of tiny vents ran along either side of its jaw, opening and closing with its breathing, each movement releasing a thin wisp of white vapor. Even its gaze was distinctly different from other Wyverns-a normal Wyvern's pupils filled its entire eye sockets when hunting, but this leader's slit pupils remained constricted.
It unleashed its Dragonfire during its dive-a conical column of dark green flame, visibly hotter than the fire the Ground Dragon had breathed earlier. Even from over ten meters away, the heat seared their faces. The air around the edges of the column seemed to burn into a transparent shell, like molten lava encased in scorching glass.
Montague sidestepped to the left before the column of fire struck him. It was a small movement, but just enough to let the flames graze past the right side of his body. After dodging the fire, he shifted back, adjusted his course, and closed in on the leader's back.
The column slammed into the ground behind him, showering his back with gravel and hot air. The dark red aura of magical flame around him flared brighter, like a torch whose fuse had just been lit. His jacket did not catch fire, but the skin at the back of his neck was scalded red.
Montague did not look back to see where the column of fire had gone.
He had already slipped into the blind spot on the Wyvern leader's other side.
The dark red magical flames spread from his arms to his entire body. Their color deepened steadily as he moved, shifting from dark red to orange-red. He could clearly feel the changes inside him-each heartbeat pumped out more magic, but also gradually awakened the uncontrollable savagery in his