Sued

Abel told White Cloud to fly lower. He didn't want to land, but he wanted to make sure that he was close enough to take a better look at the two-foot dragon.

As White Cloud flew in circles in the air above the two-foot dragon, he noticed that there were many scars that were on its body. Its wings were broken, too. Yet, with so many severe injuries, it still chose not to leave the area. Why?

One thing for sure. Whatever intent this pseudo-dragon possessed, it was no threat to him. Abel took an "instantaneous movement" scroll out of his portal bracelet. Whilst holding it in one of his hands, he jumped down from White Cloud when he was about ten meters off the ground.

He decided to leave Black Wind on White Cloud's back. If the two-foot dragon tried to attack him, he could always teleport back to White Cloud and fly away. The two-foot dragon couldn't fly, so it couldn't pursue him in the sky.

When the two-foot dragon saw that it was an elf that was approaching it, it seemed to be a little shocked. Even though Abel had the appearance of an elf, it could also sense the soul of a giant dragon from him. Whatever. Since it was already gravely wounded, it had no choice but to call for whatever help it could get.

"Help!" the two-foot dragon continued to send the same message. It was without the ability couldn't o articulate itself, but its power of the Will made communication a lot easier.

When Abel made sure that the two-foot dragon posed no threat, he slowly approached it and began to examine its wounds. The two-foot dragon complied. It even turned over to show its stomach, which was the weakest spot on its body.

From what Abel could see, there was a giant arrow that dug into its belly. The arrow also had two hooks on it, which made it impossible to take it out of the wound.

It was a pretty nasty wound. If the two-foot dragon was a giant dragon, it could've healed itself with its own saliva. According to the myths, a giant dragon's saliva was the best medicine there was. It was capable of healing all sorts of wounds. That being said, no one could force a dragon to spit out saliva against its will.

Like the two-foot dragon in front of him, Abel was no giant dragon himself. He couldn't heal the wound by spitting on it. Still, he had his own methods.

Abel walked towards the two-foot dragon's back. Then, whilst singing enchantment spells, he began rubbing the pseudo-dragon's back with his hands. As he did so, a green-looking aura started surging into its body.

The two-foot dragon wasn't very smart, but it could understand that its body was being strengthened. It could also sense something else, too. Whatever this real-dragon elf person was, he was trying to form a bond, and that bond was starting to grow tighter by the seconds.

Abel was performing the "mount enhancement technique" on the two-foot dragon. Usually, he would never have the chance to do this on a pseudo-dragon. Now that it was this badly hurt (and now that he was technically part-dragon), he found himself the rare chance to tame one.

The two-foot dragon wasn't sure what the spell that was cast on it could do. The "mount enhancement technique" was used to form a spiritual contract between it and Abel, even though it had no thoughts of doing so. In fact, when Abel first learned to use this technique, he also wasn't sure of its hidden, yet very impactful effect.

After an hour, Abel could feel that the two-foot dragon was inseparable to him. It was just like White Cloud and Black Wind. This two-foot dragon was now his companion, and it was connected to him through the soul chain.

Speaking of soul chains, he realized that there wasn't any more capacity left to form new bonds. The two-foot dragon was taking up all the space. If Abel wanted to find more new companions, he would have to keep enhancing his soul.

Actually, if Abel hadn't already absorbed the essence of a dragon's crystal, he would've died by trying to form a spiritual bond with this two-foot dragon. Perhaps that's why no one tried to have a two-foot dragon as a mount before. Or, even if they were stupidly brave enough to do so, they would've died on their way into Dragon Depth, which was where the pseudo-dragons normally lived.

Now, then. Abel was finally starting to feel safe. After taking out a healing potion from his kong kong spiritual beast bag, he began pouring its content into the two-foot dragon's mouth.

The healing potion was curing it at a very fast pace, but the arrow remained to be taken out. To take the arrow out, Abel decided to use a small dagger. The wound was already big enough, so all he needed to do was to rip the part that was already open.

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If the healing potion wasn't continuously healing the two-foot dragon, doing this would've made the injury a lot worse. Whenever the blood loss became too much, Abel would feed another healing potion into its mouth.

And alas, It was a painstaking process, but he finally took the whole arrow out. By taking a good look at it, Abel could tell that it was made by the dwarves. In fact, it looked just like the ammunition he had for his giant ballista. It wasn't this nastily-shaped, per se, but the appearance was very similar

The two-foot dragon was probably too young to be cautious of the dwarves. It probably underestimated how strong they could be. Imagine that. A dragon was flying through a dwarven city that was laid with hundreds of ballistas. It was lucky that it was still alive.

After taking out the giant arrow, Abel took out a large-sized needle from his portal bag. He was using it to sew up the wound. With an opening this big, no amount of dark-gold quality potions would be enough.

Now, the wings. Abel didn't have any intricate ways of sorting them out, so he just tried to adjust them back into the right shape. It was like fixing a dislocated arm. After putting it back to the right place, all that remained was to wait for it to recover by itself.

When the wound was fully sewed up, the healing potion helped to form a layer of scab on top of it. The two-foot dragon was not quite well yet, but the chance of it dying was significantly declined.

That's the inconvenient thing of being a dragonkind. Humans, elves, dwarves. They were all weak in comparison to them, but it's also a lot easier for the medicine to take effect. A dragon's skin, bones, and organs were all much larger and firmer, which made it harder for substances to pass through. It's the same for even dark-golden potions, which Abel had to go to lengths to produce with his Horadric Cube.

The two-foot dragon was still hurt, yes, but Abel was already happy with the idea of owning his own dragon. So far, his only flying mount was White Cloud. White Cloud could fly high, yes, but its speed was a drawback that he could never quite make up for. Because of that, he's always wanted something faster, like the flying golden mounts that the dwarves trained. In other words, he wanted a mount that he could ride to fight in the air.

Now that the two-foot dragon was an option, forget about how strong it actually was, it was already much faster than most creatures that were capable of flight. Because of how prideful it could be, it was usually impossible to ride on top of it. Abel really got lucky here. There was no doubt about that.

When Abel caressed the scaly skin that was on the two-foot dragon's body, he tried to make it clear that he wasn't trying to enslave it. The soul chain was restraining it from ever leaving him, but he wanted to make this relationship as equal and consensual as it could be.