The Earth-Drake lunged. It didn't move with the grace of a wolf; it moved with the inevitability of a landslide. Its massive, stone-plated jaw opened, capable of crushing an entire fortress in a single bite. The gravity-well around it intensified, pinning Cian and the Kharats to the earth.
Livius stood his ground. He closed his eyes, ignoring the physical monster and focusing entirely on the "Bond-Chain" that the Khan was using to drive the beast.
It was a hideous thing. A thick, pulsating umbilical cord of black, oily mana connected the Drake's brain to a distant point—the Iron Yurt. The Khan wasn't "bonding" with the Drake; he was "infecting" it with a madness-spell, forcing the ancient creature into a suicidal frenzy.
"Stop," Livius commanded.
The word wasn't spoken; it was a psychic shockwave that rippled through the Silver realm. The Earth-Drake flinched, its massive head swinging to the side, missing Livius by inches.
Livius reached out, his hands glowing with a dual-light—Golden fire in the left, Silver frost in the right. He didn't try to break the Khan's chain. Instead, he grabbed the Drake's own "Natural Thread"—the connection the beast had to the world itself.
"You are not a slave to a mortal's greed," Livius whispered, his voice resonating deep in the Drake's mind. "You are the breath of the mountains. You are the stone that remembers the stars. Wake up."
He slammed his hands into the ground. A pillar of gold-silver light erupted from the earth, flowing directly into the Drake's scales.
The battle was not physical. It was a war of "Vibration." The Khan's black mana tried to drown the Drake in rage, while Livius's mana tried to remind it of its true nature. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The gravity-well fluctuated, crushing the grass and then lifting it into the air in a chaotic dance of physics.
Then, the Drake's milky-white eyes cleared. A spark of ancient, tired intelligence returned to its gaze. It looked at the tiny boy standing before it—a boy who smelled of the Moon and the Sun.
The black umbilical cord of the Khan didn't just snap; it backfired. The madness-spell, rejected by the Drake's suddenly clear mind, traveled back along the chain with the speed of a lightning strike.
Ten miles away, in the Iron Yurt, a scream of pure agony echoed across the plains. The Khan's mind, unable to contain the feedback of a Primal Beast's rejection, shattered instantly.
The Earth-Drake let out a low, vibrating rumble—a sound of gratitude. It didn't attack. It lowered its massive head, allowing Livius to place a hand on its stone-cold snout.
"Go back to the deep, Old One," Livius said softly. "The sun is not ready for you yet. I will handle the one who woke you."
The Drake nodded, a movement that felt like an earthquake, and slowly retreated into the fissure. The ground sealed behind it as if by magic, leaving the Steppes silent once more.