Duncan's exploration of the New World wasn't going very smoothly.

The Juvenile Dragon was trapped in the Northern Land, and with its current strength, it was difficult to travel far away.

On the way back.

Duncan encountered that astonishingly powerful three-man team again. Due to the winds and snow of the Northern Land, they had to find a place to rest, and Duncan dared not get too close. He could only use the strategic map to mark their direction, which seemed to be the ancient altar he had reached.

Most creatures in this world worship Ancestral Spirits and Demon Gods, especially the latter, who are extremely dangerous.

The fierce winds howled.

After crossing a towering snow mountain, Duncan saw a very striking mark.

— The Frost Giant Tribe.

However, compared to last time, their numbers seemed to have decreased significantly; even the prehistoric Mammoths were fewer. The footprints of these giants stretched far, leading to the distant, snow-covered primordial forest.

The leading King of Frost Giants also had an additional annotation.

— King of Frost Giants (The Last King of Giants) (A Dying Giant Tribe) [Blood-colored Skull Mark] (Extremely Dangerous)!

(This last King of Giants has foreseen the extinction of his tribe.)

(He has become increasingly insane and paranoid, and full of aggression.)

Amidst the swirling snow and wind.

The burly King of Giants looked towards the Glacial Valley; it was once their dwelling place and also the hatching site of the Juvenile Dragon. However, the migrating Frost Giant tribe did not return to their original place. Instead, they continued north along the ice field, moving toward the direction of the Polar Glacier and Polar Ocean.

In the Dimension Space.

Duncan zoomed out from the strategic map, shifting to a god's-eye view, and his expression turned grave after just one glance.

Because this giant tribe no longer had any children.

"Did all the children die?"

"The Mammoths also have no young individuals left, only adult herds remain."

Hiss.

Surely something happened that he was unaware of.

When the Juvenile Dragon was hatched, the migrating Frost Giant tribe still had some young giants, but now there were none. Most survivors from the migration are adult Warriors, and even female giants have become scarce.

In the event of war, it's evident that adult males are more likely to survive.

Unless they die fighting to protect women and children, adult males have an inherent survival advantage.

In the snow, a Mammoth let out a mournful cry and collapsed with a crash.

One of the giant Warriors stopped, their expressions appeared somewhat dull, and they didn't seem very intelligent. The entire tribe was engaged in fishing, hunting, and nomadic lifestyle. Accompanied by desolate murmurs, the giants dismembered the fallen Mammoth on the spot and then carried their food to continue their migration.

Duncan maximized the god's-eye view and saw the wounds on the Mammoth's body, which were terrifying. Thick fur had been pierced by sharp arrows, and some giants also bore various size wounds.

The King of Giants, with blood-red pupils full of madness and hate, took one last look at the northern forest before turning his steps toward the glacier on the snowfield.

The fittest survive.

The giant tribe had been defeated in battle.

The vanquished can only continue to flee to desolate lands; their ultimate destination is the Polar Glacier. If they can stubbornly survive, there is still hope for their tribe to continue. But without enough food, even the Frost Giants will perish.

Once the last tribe vanishes, the giants will completely degenerate into beasts, monsters.

"Has the Elf Empire expanded again?"

The Juvenile Dragon looked towards the distant Cold-Climate Forest; the Catmen were a migrating and fleeing tribe, and the Frost Giant tribe was also forced to retreat further into the polar region. If expansion continues northward, it would soon reach his doorstep.

The tide of the era crushes everything.

Undoubtedly, this is not the era of the giants, or of the Giant Dragons, nor those weak beast tribes. This era belongs to the powerful elves, who intend to expand the empire's borders to the ends of the land.

The wheels of history roll forward!

If Duncan were riding on a war chariot, he wouldn't panic at all, but if the wheels rolled over him, it would be quite distressing.

The second Human Form did not have great ambitions; having a territory to inhabit would suffice.

He can't possibly become a homeless wandering Giant Dragon, right?

As the mighty tide of time rolled in, Duncan roughly understood why the extraordinary beings of the Middle Ages all had to flee to Northern Europe and more remote regions.

What about Giant Dragons?

Currently, the exiled Frost Giant tribe is nothing but remnants crushed by the tide of the era.

"There probably won't be a rapid continuation northward."

The Juvenile Dragon's silhouette circled down to land, and around the sacrificial stone, Catman Warriors joyfully played with blood-colored blades, but only the elderly Catman Priest was worried. He looked at the blood-grooved blades, muttering, "Has the Elf Empire begun expanding northward?"

The Catman Priest didn't know where the weapons came from, but even if the Juvenile Dragon defeated a Dark Elf hunting team, he felt no joy at all.

They have come!

Armed with endless ambition, driving the empire's colossal war machine, conquering every land in sight.

Where could they escape to?

Any further north, and the tribe would freeze and starve to death.

The elderly Catman Priest stood up with a heavy expression and said in a deep voice, "Gather all the tribe members."

Soon.

One by one, the Catman hunters gathered.

The elder Priest looked at the young faces, unable to voice the heavy words. With one winter's adaptation, the Catman tribe was able to survive here, and the young tribe members yearned for a new beginning. Although the Northern Land was cold, barren, and lacking resources, at least there was a piece of land where they could freely procreate and thrive.

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