However, a few seconds later, the anticipated pursuit did not occur.

Vera halted her backward flight in confusion, cautiously turning her head to look back. The scene before her made her tilt her little head, full of puzzlement.

The enormous Golden Dragon was now stretching its muscles in place as if no one else were around.

First, it exertively stretched its long neck and strong limbs, then began rhythmically flapping its broad and powerful golden wings, one beat at a time.

It did not employ any of the sacred vow energy within its body, nor did it use any auxiliary magic power for flight, relying solely on the sheer strength of its wings, purely swinging them.

Each downward flap hit the ground heavily, stirring up a shower of sand and rocks, dust filling the air.

Its massive body could only inertia off such pure physical strength, clumsily rising a few meters off the ground briefly, before thumping heavily back down, causing a slight tremor in the land. 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

"A strange Golden Dragon, its brain surely got messed up by Galos."

Vera blinked her big eyes, muttering softly, while quietly flapping her wings, stealthily moving several dozen meters away from the Golden Dragon, afraid of catching that silliness emanating from it.

Elsewhere.

Alberto felt the peculiar gaze filled with sympathy and confusion from the Elf Dragon, a faint sense of helplessness and bitterness rising within him.

But how could he explain?

Just now, when he wanted to scare Vera to regain some face, a chilling dread gripping to the bone suddenly coiled around his heart.

This was not due to any issue with his body or mind.

But rather, the vow he made himself, as ironclad as a law, sternly reminding and relentless driving him.

Over the past five years, this feeling had become as familiar to him as breathing—every moment of slackness, every divergence from the path to becoming stronger, would lead to this soul-whipping chill.

For example, now.

Simply because he thought of scaring the Elf Dragon instead of engaging in a real combat training, in the vow’s judgment, this was nothing but a meaningless, time-wasting leisurely distraction.

Hence.

The invisible, icy whip of the vow was immediately upraised, ready to harshly lash his attempted relaxation of soul.

Sternly reminding him: Alberto! Your time should be spent solely on exercises! On becoming stronger! Not distracted by such childish, boring affairs!

Fortunately.

Perhaps because he had recently experienced the unprecedented, over month-long deep slumber.

His mental strings, taut for five years and almost ready to snap, finally gained valuable relief and repair.

At this moment, Alberto, in a state of unprecedented vigor, although still revering the vow, did not feel much fatigue or strong resistance within.

Moreover.

The vow truly made him more powerful, increasingly self-disciplined.

He chose silent acceptance.

Disregarded Vera’s gaze, focused onto honing the power of his wings.

"Perhaps, as long as there are adequate, like this case, deep rest periods."

Alberto thought to himself amidst repeating the monotonous and strenuous moves: "I can actually endure the vow’s restrictions."

With such thoughts.

A bold, even somewhat masochistic plan quietly took shape in his mind.

"Perhaps I should find more opportunities to challenge Galos? Getting knocked unconscious might just guarantee forced, long-enough slumber rest, right?"

If he wanted to intentionally rest or sleep, the damned vow absolutely would not allow it.

Equivalent to slacking!

And actively challenging or aggravating other unfamiliar powerful entities? The risk is simply too high, any slight mistake may lead to severe consequences, far safer to challenge the relatively "familiar" Galos.

Besides.

What if a challenge... miraculously wins? Wouldn’t that both lift these damned vow restrictions and prove himself?

The only bothersome, headache-inducing issue was.

Challenges to Galos required a price.

If every challenge demanded costly gemstones or gold coins.

He suspects it would take him a long, long time to clear the towering debts, fearing that all future years’ earnings would have to go into the bottomless pit of repaying Galos’s debt.

Just then.

A sudden fierce gust razed, sweeping up the sky full of dust, veiling the warm sunlight, casting a massive, imposing shadow on the ground.

The Red Iron Dragon, towering like a mountainous ridge, robust as if forged from steel, descended, blocking out the sunlight.

Its wings, over twice its body length, slowly folded in, accompanying a heavy and stable thud as it landed directly facing the wing-battling Golden Dragon Alberto, keenly scrutinizing the opposite.

Given the scale and heavy weight proportion of the Dragon Race, flying itself is a miracle.

If not for being top-tier magic creatures, their wing structures meant more for direction and angle adjustments, offering very little lift, an ordinary Giant Dragon can barely sustain gliding solely on wings.

Presently, Alberto manages to momentarily lift off the ground, relying purely on the physical strength of wing beats, without powerfully kicking off with hind limbs.