The power of a claw from the Ancestral Golden Dragon is truly terrifying. If you ask the hellish poet Charon, he wouldn't know, because he never took a hit; he dodged, not gracefully though, but at least he avoided it.
Boom——
Flying debris grazed across his face, sparking as it collided with the faint scale patterns emerging on his skin. This seemingly frail minstrel crashed through the palace wall, leaping into the air.
Then, the hellish poet looked towards the towering Golden Dragon that treated space like thin paper, traversing it freely, an odd expression in his eyes.
Because now he had seen clearly, the eyes of this Golden Dragon had never opened. Based on his senses, he judged that the dragon was still in a deep sleep state, yet it was clearly moving.
"It's evolved past the weakness of being unable to move during sleep, isn't this cheating?"
