Translator: AnubisTL
Merchant caravans traversing the Sierre Wilderness primarily collected resources such as minerals, materials from ferocious and demonic beasts, and magical herbs and spiritual plants. These goods were then transported south to the Lothurn Federation for sale, generating profit.
The size of these caravans varied greatly.
Some were so massive that even adult dragons dared not target them.
Others, however, risked venturing into the wilderness with insufficient protection, driven by greed and the hope of striking it rich.
Small, poorly guarded caravans were like easy prey for the evil creatures that had taken root in the wilderness—a free meal too tempting to resist.
Countless small caravans vanished in the Sierre Wilderness each year.
Yet merchants, driven by the promise of profit, flocked to the region like moths to a flame. No risk, no matter how great, could deter their pursuit of wealth or quell their insatiable greed.
Upon reflection, this seemed no different from the inherent flaws ingrained in dragonkind's inheritance.
"The Thousand Serpents' Trace is a vast network of interconnected paths. There's a branch here. If I encounter a suitable small caravan, I might have an opportunity to plunder it."
"If I'm going to raid a merchant caravan, I'd better not show myself. If my whereabouts are revealed, it will attract adventurers seeking to slay me, or even a military siege."
"I have too few earthstorm bears under my command, and their limited intelligence makes it difficult to execute complex orders."
"I need some truly intelligent creatures as familiars."
Until I can single-handedly overthrow the entire world with my dragon strength, familiars remain necessary.
Or rather, all evil dragons need familiars.
Unlike metallic dragons, who can call upon allies and summon dragonkind alliances for aid when threatened, evil dragons typically operate alone. Without a legion of familiars, they are vulnerable to being hunted down and slain.
"I'm not an evil dragon, but the prejudice in people's hearts is like a mountain. They always mistake me for one at first glance, shouting for my death. Given this, I need to prepare accordingly and strengthen my foundations."
Garos pondered these matters.
After observing the graymane werewolf territory for some time, he decided against a rash attack and prepared to leave.
Other places awaited his exploration, particularly the side roads branching off from the Thousand Serpents' Trace. He was keenly interested in the merchant caravans that had passed through these routes.
But just then...
Garos keenly noticed an elderly werewolf with graying fur emerging from a tent-like structure at the heart of the territory.
The creature wore a necklace crafted from unknown animal bones and leaned on a polished, aged oak staff.
It was the shaman of the werewolf tribe.
After emerging, the shaman immediately summoned a dozen burly, middle-aged werewolves. They hoisted several live prey animals—cattle and horse-sized creatures with bound limbs—and began marching toward the moonlit, shadowy mountain cliffs.
Seeing this, Garos didn't immediately leave. He remained hidden high above, curious to observe the shaman's purpose.
The shaman led the werewolves to the foot of the cliffs.
Thump! The nervous werewolves set down their burdens, accidentally creating a dull thud that drew the shaman's displeased gaze.
Yet the shaman understood their fear.
With a wave of its clawed hand, it dismissed the werewolves, took a deep breath, and faced alone the terrifying neighbors dwelling in the cliffside caves.
The shaman retrieved a bone whistle.
Gathering its breath, it blew a long, resonant note that echoed through the valley.
Crack-crack-crack... The cliff face trembled slightly, sending pebbles cascading down like fine rain.
Then...
A colossal serpentine monster, over ten meters long, emerged from the dark, shadowed cave.
This was a massive serpent, its body covered in green scales, its eyes blood-red, its tail split into three prongs, and its forelimbs ending in sharp claws.
It slithered down the steep cliff face.
Its only pair of claws gripped the rock, tearing through the hard stone as if it were tofu.
In an instant, it stood before the old werewolf shaman, its jaws gaping wide. It seized a fresh, living creature brought by a young adult werewolf and began to devour it.
Instead of killing its prey swiftly, the monster's eyes gleamed with perverse pleasure as it savored the creature's screams and struggles. It tore through skin, flesh, and bone piece by piece, slowly shredding and consuming its victim.
The entire process was brutal and bloody.
Even the bloodthirsty werewolves trembled at the sight, not daring to cast a single glance his way. The wolf pups buried their heads in their parents' fur, shivering like frightened quail.
The entire graymane werewolf tribe seemed to fear this ferocious beast.
After finishing its meal with torturous cruelty, the monster ignored the old werewolf before it and turned to leave.
Instead of slithering back up the cliff face, its wingless body coiled into the air and soared back into the cave.
"A cliff serpent dragon?!"
Garos's heart clenched as he gazed at the ferocious beast.
Almost the instant he saw it, a flood of urgent warnings surged through his inheritance.
This creature was known as a cliff serpent dragon.
Cliff serpent dragons, celestial pool serpent dragons, stone mound serpent dragons, rocky mountain serpent dragons, cold forest serpent dragons—all serpent dragons, a subclass of dragonkind.
Though wingless and armed with only a pair of razor-sharp claws, there was no doubt this cliff serpent dragon was a true dragon.
And among dragons...
In terms of sheer evil and savagery, even the notoriously wicked chromatic dragons paled in comparison to the serpent dragons.
Serpent dragons were primitive and barbaric dragons. Though intelligent, their thinking was more akin to wild beasts than even white dragons. Utterly ruthless, they would stop at nothing to inflict maximum pain and torment on their enemies, rather than simply killing them. They harbored an equal hatred and loathing for all life, including their own kind.
Moreover, they were dragon-eaters.
Fellow dragons were part of their diet.
In fact, they relished dragon flesh, delighting in torturing and slaughtering their own kind. They were the epitome of evil dragons.
For this very reason...
Though serpent dragons possessed the blood and power of giant dragons, they were universally reviled and rejected by dragonkind.
What made these creatures even more troublesome was that their claws and fangs were venomous, and their souls carried curses.
For instance, the fire attribute cliff serpent dragon, upon being slain, would curse its killer with its dying breath. If the target's curse resistance was insufficient to nullify it, they would suffer an indefinitely lasting fire resistance debuff.
"Its body is about ten meters long, making it likely a juvenile or adolescent serpent dragon."
"Cliff serpent dragons rank low among serpent dragons. Their life grade is probably similar to mine, but their curses are too troublesome. Engaging it would be more trouble than it's worth."
Garos hovered high above, taking care not to attract the cliff serpent dragon's attention.
The cliff serpent dragon slowly flew to the cave entrance and began to slither inside, starting with its head.
But just as its tail was about to disappear into the cave, it suddenly stopped.
Its forked tail flicked a few times before the cliff serpent dragon backed out of the cave, its nostrils twitching as it sniffed the air.
Having dragons as prey, serpent dragons were exceptionally sensitive to dragonkind's scent. The cliff serpent dragon faintly detected the scent of another dragon, triggering its hunger, intensifying its appetite, and stimulating its senses.
(End of the Chapter)
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