As I was close to finishing off the wyvern, a strange heaviness settled in my stomach, a kind of magical bloat that came after overindulgence. I yawned, stretched my wings, and decided I’d make another couple of rounds before heading home.

  I’d been flying through the storm for… I wasn’t sure how long anymore. Since a wyvern, at least, as that one was nearly done. I had no idea how much I’d actually managed to influence the storm, but I’d certainly had my fun. I’d hurled blizzards and sheets of ice roaring across the clouds on one side, fireballs and storms of flame on the other, even used my funneling technique to extend my reach. But in this endless sky, would any of it really make a difference?

  I wondered what to do with the wyvern carcass I was still carrying. Some parts I’d already discarded, but… wait a minute — those bones had precious marrow inside! And the bones themselves were valuable too!

  Rolling onto my back, I balanced the carcass on my belly, maintaining a small shield around myself to keep the wind from interfering with my meal. Much better like this. Why hadn’t I thought of it sooner?

  Ah, turbulence again.

  A series of magical eddies brushed against my shield, conflicting especially with my funneling tunnels.

  And that’s when I nearly dropped my food.

  Why were there magical turbulences in the storm? I’d thought they were just natural phenomena, but these… these seemed to move with the storm, yet didn’t behave like part of its formation.

  I focused on my mana sight, but at first saw nothing. Only when I pushed harder did faint shapes begin to appear. Funnels - thin, spiraling structures - similar to the ones I was creating. So, it wasn’t my invention after all. Someone had thought of it before.

  That realization stung a little, especially since these funnels were much longer than mine. Who could make such vast structures? They stretched for miles and miles through the storm.

  I quickened my chewing, breaking apart the wyvern bones and keeping only the most valuable ones. Good thing dragons have four—well, almost—hands for multitasking. Even so, I still lost a few bones I’d wanted to keep. With a frustrated huff, I discarded the rest and climbed higher, rising above the storm.

  Flying up fast with a disintegrating carcass wasn’t easy, but I had a bad feeling about those funnels, and I wanted to see what was really going on.

  From up here, I could see the funnels more clearly, five of them, twisting through the clouds, all coming from the south. When I extended my horns with a layer of mana, just like Flo had taught me, my vision reached farther than ever before.

  And there, at the very edge of what I could see, tiny shapes appeared, short vertical lines at the ends of the mana funnels.

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  A chill ran down my spine.

  Oh, drats!

  This storm wasn’t natural. Those four vertical lines were towers. Mage towers. And the funnels weren’t random flows of mana; they were deliberate channels, directed straight into the heart of the storm. And those towers, they stood in the south in Elven territory.

  For a long moment I just hovered there, refusing to believe my own eyes. The elves? Doing something like this? It was unthinkable. It was treacherous.

  I dove toward the convergence point and felt it immediately. The mana currents pulsed and intertwined, feeding power into the storm’s core. Each individual funnel seemed harmless enough… until they met. Then their strength multiplied, fueling this monstrous storm.

  I had it right in front of me, and still, I almost couldn’t believe it. Could I be mistaken? No. The traces were faint, but unmistakable. I could see them. The question was—who else could? Probably very few, if any. It took a level of mana perception and manipulation that was… well, at the high-dragon level.

  Could this truly be what I thought it was? I let out a long sigh of disappointment.

  I wouldn’t put it past them. There were always some among the elves who wouldn’t think twice before doing something like this. I’d met their kind before. Culling the orcs and the humans in one blow—it would only strengthen their position. But still…

  Technically, it was impressive. To manage a spell like this from such a distance... almost impossible. Then again, elves were masters of mana manipulation, and mage towers multiplied that power exponentially. If they’d set up the towers in an array… yes, it was a stretch, but possible.

  I sighed again, the bitter taste of certainty settling in.

  I had it right in front of my eyes, damn it. They did it.

  Only my full belly stopped me from diving down then and there like the war-god Kargath himself and smashing at least one of those mage towers. My stomach, however, insisted on postponing vengeance until after digestion. If I forced myself into a fight now, I’d start belching mid-battle.

  Not ruining my dragonly digestion ranked higher than these little mundane concerns like food for my subjects—though that particular line of thought did make a few alarm bells ring in the back of my mind. Still, since it was something I could fix after digestion, it seemed perfectly logical to prioritize my stomach first.

  As I hovered there, arguing with myself, the funnels slowly faded and the storm began to calm. Maybe my earlier interference had weakened their work… or perhaps the tower operators had noticed and shut things down.

  I took a breath, glared at the last wyvern bone, and snorted. The elves owed me compensation for any harvest losses and a wyvern!

  I made another round through the storm, hurling massive fireballs where the air sank and calling blizzards where it rose. I wasn’t sure if I was doing the right thing, but at least I managed to break the storm into several smaller ones, and the wind seemed slower now.

  Too tired to keep going, I decided that would have to do. I turned toward my castle. My eyes were already closing, and I think part of the flight I made on autopilot. I honestly feared I’d overfly the castle—or crash somewhere on the way—but in the end, I landed safely in the yard.

  There was a moment of commotion, but the orcs quickly calmed down.

  I still had one large bone left, probably a wyvern femur. I hadn’t finished it yet, but decided I’d save it for when I woke up.

  I let out a satisfied burp, stretched my limbs, yawned, then curled up, keeping the last bone between my claws. The moment I closed my eyes, I was asleep.