The mountains shook.
Snow and rock exploded into the air as the two dragons collided mid-flight. Lightning cracked, fire flared, and the wind itself bent around the force of their strikes. The golden dragon—the human who had mastered the dragon core—moved with precision, controlled fury, every strike measured, every maneuver deliberate.
The mountain dragon, older and wilder, countered with raw power. Its claws tore through the air like blades, lightning lacing its scales, roaring with fury and instinct.
He didn't shout. He didn't roar.
He fought like a predator who had learned patience, who had endured trials the world couldn't understand.
The first clash sent shockwaves across the valley, flattening trees, shattering cliffs. He pivoted midair, avoiding a crushing blow, and struck the dragon's flank with a controlled pulse of dragon energy. The impact sent the mountain dragon skidding sideways, ice fracturing under its claws.
[Core Stability: 95% | Human Form Mastery Stage 2: Optimal Control]
The older dragon recovered quickly, wings whipping to generate a storm, lightning arcing between the two as they circled each other. Its roar split the air, but he stood calm, golden eyes piercing its movements.
"You're strong," the older dragon growled. "Stronger than most who call themselves dragons."
"And you're slow," he replied quietly, shifting in the air. Wings flared, compressing energy into a precise strike. "Strength without control is weakness."
The strike landed on its chest, knocking the dragon backward. Scales cracked, lightning sputtering across its body. It glared at him, furious, but carefully analyzing each movement.
They clashed again and again, sky shaking, wind screaming. Every strike he made was calculated, every dodge a study of the opponent's behavior. For the first time, he felt what mastery truly meant—power restrained, lethal, and unbound by fear.
Minutes passed, and still neither dragon fell. But he noticed the subtle shift: the older dragon was learning, adapting. Its attacks became more precise, its patterns less chaotic.
A grin spread across his face beneath the golden glow.
"So this is what it means to fight a true dragon," he murmured. "To grow beyond the dungeon… beyond the system."
The mountain dragon lunged for one final strike, claws extended, lightning blazing. He met it head-on, coiling dragon energy into his arms and legs, striking with controlled force that wasn't wild—it was absolute.
The impact shook the clouds, but the mountain dragon paused, stepping back. Its chest heaved, wings quivering slightly.
"Enough," it said, voice low and begrudging. "You… have proven it."
He landed softly on a snow-covered ridge, wings folding back, golden eyes still burning. The older dragon landed opposite him, maintaining distance, respect in its gaze.
He exhaled slowly.
"No one else can push me like that," he said quietly. "Not yet."
Far above, beyond the horizon, the Great White Dragon watched with one eye open, calm, amused, and patient.
The real tests had only begun.