Lapunta's face showed concern now. He stood in the dome of the sanctuary, Glamgmar's highest place with a tight seal, peering through the window at the melee below, then turned impatiently to the unfinished ritual. He glanced at Lutes' frozen body lying on the magic rock just now, and grumpily asked his three loyalists Nermesis, Rowaque, and Uknen who were performing the most important ritual for him.

“How much longer?”

“I'm afraid… need more time,” Nermesis replied fearfully.

Lapunta snorted coldly, continued to observe the Reinds from the top of Flezard's window, and replied:

“Time… we have plenty. As long as you complete the ritual, even if there are hundreds of people like that Reind, I won't be afraid."

Lapunta said while scowling. The baby dragon in his hand groaned softly. It is the poisonous green dragon Vulcan. The little dragon, only a little bigger than his hand, couldn't even fly, staggered and crawled on his palm. It looked at him with ignorant eyes, its throat hummed like a newborn puppy. Lapunta smiled lightly, reached out to pat its head, and said:

“You are a proud monster.”

It looked at him, squealing, its wings trying to flap, as if it were seeing the person in front of it as its parents. But then suddenly made the little dragon unable to react, a horrible and painful death came to it. Lapunta suddenly bit off the dragon's head from the base of its neck. The dragon did not have time to react, much less let out a sound before dying. Everything happened so suddenly that the dragon's wings were still shaking. Moments later, the baby dragon was left with only two clawed legs. Lapunta smirked, reached out to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth, then continued to observe as if nothing had happened.