Translator: AnubisTL
The dwarf sorcerer gradually approached.
Wearing a focusing magic mirror, he adjusted the focal length to a microscopic level, clearly observing the metallic texture on the dragon scale's surface fading away. This revealed an internal honeycomb-like structure filled with fire elemental energy.
This configuration had never been documented in any alchemy textbook.
The dwarf sorcerer's breath quickened as he realized his discovery could potentially be published as an academic paper. His thick beard trembled with excitement.
Simultaneously, as the flames continued to burn, the shattered scales turned a molten crimson. Under microscopic observation, a lava-like, bright red substance began seeping from the honeycomb-like cavities.
The dwarf sorcerer sensed the danger immediately, his expression shifting.
Hum!
Runes instantly lit up on the iron ring attached to his beard, rapidly projecting a luminous shield that enveloped his entire body.
The shattered scales exploded like a compressed sun.
Boom!
A sudden burst of flames and a shockwave erupted, engulfing the dwarf sorcerer and sending him flying through three rows of shelves.
A dozen seconds later...
Groni crawled out of the chaotic workshop, his face covered in soot and his singed beard still smoldering. Had it not been for the defensive alchemy item—an iron ring hanging from his beard that absorbed much of the blast—the sorcerer's frail constitution would have suffered far worse injuries.
Even so, he paid dearly for his carelessness.
A searing pain shot through his left eye. When he touched his face, he felt only melted metal from the shattered spectacles and viscous remnants of his lens.
The explosion had been too sudden; his alchemy item hadn't activated in time, blinding his eye.
He never could have imagined such a small fragment of scale could unleash such devastating power.
Regaining his composure, he surveyed the damage.
The mithril cauldron lay cracked in a radial pattern, the rune carving knife broken into several pieces, and the focusing magic mirror shattered. While his physical injuries were secondary, these losses pierced the dwarf sorcerer's heart.
For an alchemist, reliable tools were worth more than gold.
"Waaah! You treacherous Red Iron Hybrid dragon! I'll remember you!"
The dwarf sorcerer's face flushed crimson with rage as his bellow echoed through the night.
Boom! Olaf, wielding a warhammer taller than himself, kicked open the warped workshop door. His tiger-like gaze swept across the interior, landing on the red-hot, blinded dwarf sorcerer.
"Groni, what happened?" he demanded.
"I was attacked by an evil dragon," the dwarf sorcerer replied, briefly recounting the incident.
After hearing the dwarf sorcerer's account, Olaf's eyes widened. "What dragon attack?" he blurted out. "You just blew yourself up being a fool!"
The dwarf sorcerer froze, then spat out a mouthful of blood.
Being called a fool by a barbarian made him feel like he was about to explode, yet he couldn't argue.
Enraged, the dwarf sorcerer coughed up another mouthful of blood, his brain starved of oxygen. He stiffened and collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Meanwhile, on Earthstorm Bear Ridge, in Needleleaf Valley, Garos remained unaware of the dwarf sorcerer's misfortune. Had he known, he would have burst out laughing.
Roasting his own explosive scales with flames and then sticking his face in for a closer look? It was a miracle he hadn't blown himself to smithereens on the spot.
The Earthstorm Bears, renowned for their defensive prowess and unwavering focus, were reduced to charred, bloody messes one by one during their sparring sessions with Garos.
A fragile alchemist, caught off guard by a close-range explosion, would have faced certain death had his reaction been even slightly slower.
Unaware of these events unfolding under the same sky, Garos remained in high spirits, his training of the little dragon far from complete.
After careful consideration, he realized that strengthening only the scales outside the reproductive cavity was akin to adding a thicker layer of armor to a weak point—the vulnerability remained. The best approach was to directly train the weak point itself.
Following a period of mental preparation, Garos took a deep breath, straightened his body, and thrust his hips against a young, relatively soft pine tree.
As wood chips flew, the little dragon, extending from the reproductive cavity, drilled a deep hole into the trunk.
Garos's mask twitched violently, and a hissing sound like a sharp intake of breath escaped his mouth. Even with his high pain tolerance, he couldn't help but grimace.
This kind of self-inflicted torment on one's own vulnerability was a trial few dragons would dare to undertake.
"Again! I'll make this weakness as strong as steel—no, even stronger!"
The red iron young dragon gritted his teeth, his eyes blazing with determination, and charged forward with renewed ferocity.
Boom! Boom! Boom! The tree trunk gradually became riddled with craters, cracks spiderwebbing across its surface. Soon, unable to withstand the relentless assault, it snapped in two.
Garos could feel the little dragon's muscles aching and burning, pushing him to his limit. He finally stopped, allowing the young dragon to rest before resuming the adaptation training.
The next day, as the first rays of dawn spilled into Needleleaf Valley, Garos spread his wings and soared from the mountain cave at the valley's heart.
Needleleaf Valley was surrounded by mountains on three sides, their slopes riddled with natural caves. Garos had chosen the largest and most comfortable of these as his dragon nest.
As the saying goes, "The early bird catches the worm."
Under normal circumstances, Garos would take flight at dawn, hunting ferocious beasts and demonic creatures to hone his combat skills.
Had he been any other dragon ruling over a clan of Earthstorm Bears, he would likely have ordered his familiars to hunt for him, providing food while he enjoyed a life of effortless luxury.
But Garos refused to slacken his hunting frequency. For him, hunting wasn't just about food; it was an essential part of his training, a way to sharpen his combat techniques and accumulate practical experience.
Combat experience was paramount in Garos's eyes.
He recalled his encounter with the Red Copper Dragon.
The juvenile dragon, over sixteen years old and equipped with several alchemy items, wouldn't have been such an easy target if its combat experience had been more extensive. It was precisely because Garos sensed the dragon's lack of battle prowess that he decided to counterattack and seize the treasure, rather than retreat.
Returning to the matter at hand.
Garos had intended to take flight immediately for a hunt.
However, his stride was too long, and the sudden movement aggravated the lingering pain in his hind legs, causing him to grimace. He reluctantly landed on a rocky slab, resigned to rest a while longer.
Noticing Garos's unusual behavior, Samantha approached on all fours, her voice filled with concern. "My dear brother, are you injured?"
"No," Garos replied curtly.
Samantha remained unconvinced. "You were walking so awkwardly just now. Something's clearly wrong. Don't be stubborn—where does it hurt? Let me take a look."
"I've mastered a new rune. I can carve it onto your injury to accelerate healing."
The red dragon extended her sharp claws, eagerly pressing closer to Garos.
Garos's expression hardened, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Stay away from me. Test your rune on the Earthstorm Bear instead."
(End of the Chapter)
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