Adam stopped restraining the range of his dragon might and spread it out to its maximum, and actually picked up several werewolves very close by. By then he was already a long way from the original battlefield — enough to give some idea of how powerful the blast had been.
One had to admire the werewolves' ferocious vitality: even with wounds this severe, the life force in their bodies showed no sign of fading out. Give them decent shelter and a few mouthfuls of hot food, and most of them would probably live.
The heavy wound on his back had left his dragon wings dripping blood as well. Adam gave them a try: for the moment his wings could not lift his enormous body.
In this plane, the area his dragon might covered was Adam's sensing range. After a wide sweep, he confirmed that the werewolf Elder was dead.
"I won, but it's still a shame."
Adam felt a pang of regret. If he had been a little stronger, he might have taken the Elder alive; a living thing was always worth more than a dead one.
Just then the elemental aura began to churn, blood flowers like bursting bombs drifted down from the sky, and the ice field's terrifying blizzard started up again.