Chapter 113: Long-Winged Dragons of Sothoryos
Sothoryos, Pterodactyl Point
"Boom... crack... crack..."
Amid a series of terrifying sounds, as if space itself were shattering, Jon appeared within a swampy forest, aided by the power of a Dimensional Dragon.
"Buzz... buzz... buzz..."
The continent of Sothoryos is a land steeped in mystery and danger. Located near the Basilisk Isles, its vegetation is extraordinarily dense due to its year-round heat and torrential rains.
Because of this, the environment is extremely hostile. Countless mosquitoes and parasites plague any humans daring enough to explore this continent.
Jon's first impression of this place was simple—heat.
A suffocating, burning heat, as if the very air itself was trying to ignite. Combined with the swampy terrain, the atmosphere felt like scalding steam.
After walking only a short distance, Jon already found the heat unbearable. An ordinary person would have long since collapsed from heatstroke.
"Whoosh... splash..."
At that moment, a massive bank of white mist drifted across the distant sky. Before Jon could react, a torrential downpour suddenly descended.
The rain came so abruptly that Jon was instantly drenched, like a drowned rat.
This sudden storm exceeded all expectations. In mere moments, the swamp's water level surged, transforming the surrounding terrain into a vast expanse of murky water.
In such an environment, movement for ordinary people would be nearly impossible. Worse still, a single misstep could result in being swallowed whole by the swamp.
There was, however, one small benefit—the swarms of mosquitoes that had been incessantly buzzing moments ago completely disappeared.
Thanks to Jon's immense aura, those insects had already been kept at bay. Now, with the rain falling heavily, even the lingering noise was gone.
As the swamp became a watery expanse, the creatures hidden among reeds and bushes began to stir, emerging in search of prey.
Some creatures only appeared under such conditions—and these creatures often served as bait for even more terrifying predators.
"Hiss... hiss..."
Jon stood atop the canopy of a short tree. Within his perception, a large group of creatures emerged in the swamp to his southwest.
They were Swamp Tapirs, beasts adapted to wetland environments. They charged frantically toward Jon's direction, as if fleeing from some terrifying predator behind them.
"Hiss... hiss... hiss..."
Just as Jon was pondering the situation, a series of sharp, piercing cries reached his ears.
Moments later, he saw a dense black swarm appearing behind the Swamp Tapirs.
These creatures resembled the wyverns of Essos—similar in form to the pterosaurs of ancient times—but far larger and more robust.
These were Swamp Wyverns, one of the most numerous and widely distributed species of wyvern.
Although they were not the specific type Jon had hoped to acquire, since he had already come this far, he naturally wouldn't leave empty-handed.
As a magic crystal appeared in Jon's hand, the surrounding space distorted slightly.
Soon after, three half-human, half-serpent beings appeared beside him.
These were Medusae, rare spellcasting creatures among magical beings. Their advanced form is known as Gorgons.
Of course, if Jon wished, he could maintain them in this state indefinitely—though doing so would require a steady consumption of blood magic stored within his crystals.
With serpents for hair and arms, they appeared grotesque and terrifying. Yet over time, their strange allure could subtly captivate those who gazed upon them.
And in that moment of distraction, they would strike.
Their prey, bitten by venomous fangs, would gradually succumb to petrification—turning into stone.
These Medusae could also wield magic. To enhance their combat ability, Jon had specifically equipped them with a lightning spell.
"Rumble..."
Thunder flashed.
From the Medusae's hands, three bolts of lightning—like writhing serpents—lashed into the swamp.
With devastating force, they carved three bloody paths straight through the fleeing herd of Swamp Tapirs.
"Moo...!"
"Hiss...!"
This overwhelming display of power caused both the Swamp Wyverns and Swamp Tapirs to recoil in fear.
Realizing Jon and his summons were not to be provoked, the surviving Tapirs immediately diverted their path.
Unfortunately, that hesitation cost them dearly.
Countless Tapirs fell prey to the sharp fangs of the pursuing Wyverns.
Roughly twenty meters away, a Swamp Wyvern nearly twice the size of its kin clamped its jaws onto a Tapir's skull.
"Moo...!"
The creature's desperate cries quickly faded.
"Crunch... splatter..."
Bone shattered. Blood spilled.
The Tapir was devoured in moments.
"Their feeding habits really are similar to dragons…"
Watching this, Jon recalled the contents of Dragons, Wyverns, and Wyrms: Their Unnatural History, written by Septon Barth.
Though the original texts had long been destroyed in Westeros, Jon had managed to find a preserved copy in the libraries of Tyrosh.
"These creatures should have eggs as well…"
"Go. Target the strongest ones. Turn them to stone—they'll make excellent future mounts."
"Hiss..."
At Jon's command, the Medusae moved like serpents, striking swiftly.
Their first target was the massive Wyvern.
Sensing danger, the creature retreated instinctively.
But it had nowhere to escape.
"Hiss!"
With a furious shriek, it lunged toward one of the Medusae.
"Crack—BOOM!"
A bolt of lightning struck it mid-charge.
The Wyvern was blasted backward, tumbling violently through the swamp.
As it struggled to rise, pain surged through its body.
Moments later, another strike landed.
A strange numbness spread across its form.
Its limbs stiffened.
Its vision blurred.
And then—
It lost all control.
"Hiss..."
The Medusa retracted its fangs, watching calmly as the Wyvern turned to stone.
With their interference, the Wyverns' hunt descended into chaos.
Ironically, this worked in their favor—many had already caught prey and were distracted.
This gave the Medusae more opportunities.
Having identified their weaknesses, they began systematically hunting.
One by one, more Wyverns were petrified.
As losses mounted, the remaining creatures finally realized something was terribly wrong.
"Hiss... hiss..."
They stared at their immobilized kin—frozen in unnatural poses.
Fear spread quickly through the flock.
Despite their numbers, the unknown terror broke their will.
"Hiss—!"
With several low cries, the remaining Wyverns fled toward the southwest at high speed.
Jon made no move to stop them.
"Let's see… about fifteen."
He nodded, satisfied.
"Not bad."
"I'll have the Three-Headed Hellhound track their nests later."
"If luck is on my side… I might even find a clutch of wyvern eggs."
Watching the fleeing shadows disappear into the distance, Jon began forming his next plan.
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