Translator: AnubisTL
"The Hyena-Men and kobolds I first brought to the Ironforged Tribe are all dead now."
Seeing Hodge's death, Iron Dragon Solgorn felt a pang of melancholy.
"These creatures are so small and fragile. Throughout our long lives, our familiars will iterate countless times, new replacing old, life and death cycling endlessly. Only the sun rises and sets unchanged, eternal."
Garos gazed at the sun, radiating light and heat.
He shook his head slowly. "Even stars will one day extinguish their light, burn through their energy, and become cosmic dust. Nothing is truly eternal."
His voice paused.
The red-iron dragon's pupils narrowed slightly, his voice deepening. "Only those divine spirits worshipped and venerated by countless souls, or those whose individual power rivals the gods, can achieve true eternity, transcending time and enduring immortally."
Garos questioned himself.
He had fought against himself, against others, against the very fabric of the world, growing stronger with each step.
He had walked cautiously, as if treading on thin ice.
Was it all just to become dust and ashes at the end of his life?
No!
He wanted more.
Ambition and desire churned within him, yet the red-iron dragon, unusually, offered no resistance, allowing these emotions to ferment, boil, and transform into a seed that took root deep within his heart, gradually sprouting.
Soon after, as noon approached, Solgorn departed Dragon Valley to begin preparations for dealing with the Gold Tooth Tribe. Since the tribe sought a trade war rather than bloodshed, the iron dragon was more than willing to play along.
Garos took a deep breath and slowly turned his neck to the right.
Crack, crack, crack. The vertebrae groaned under the strain, sending sharp jolts of pain through him. He paused, then switched directions, twisting his head to the left.
Thanks to years of rigorous training, his neck was thick and muscular, covered in thorn spikes and thick scales.
But this strength came with a drawback: his neck lacked flexibility. Unlike other long-necked dragons, he couldn't rotate his head 180 degrees to bite behind him.
Therefore, in addition to his daily neck-strengthening exercises, Garos added new training drills: high-frequency head-shaking and neck-twisting exercises to improve his neck's agility.
With the sun shining brightly overhead, it was the perfect time to train.
Having awakened from a long slumber, Garos was brimming with enthusiasm, training tirelessly without rest.
As night deepened, the cool breeze and dense darkness made it an ideal time to train.
The red-iron dragon persisted until the first hint of dawn painted the horizon pale gold, bathing Dragon Valley in golden morning light.
After nearly a full day and night of training, he should have rested.
But.
With the fresh morning air and the rising sun, it was still a perfect time to train.
After feeding and drinking a barrel of black oil, the red-iron dragon resumed his training, summoning the wyvern flock and earthstorm bear pack for sparring. Before his Cold Exploding Scales could fully develop, he focused on strengthening the underlying black-red scales.
He seemed impervious to fatigue and pain.
No, more accurately, he relished the sensation.
Other dragons occasionally considered training but abandoned the idea for various reasons. Garos, however, found every possible excuse to push his body, unwilling to rest.
From the initial agony and torment,
to gradual adaptation and habituation,
to his current state of enjoyment and immersion.
Whether by necessity or self-adaptation, Garos's mindset had undergone a profound transformation.
After two days and nights of relentless training, the red-iron dragon's chest heaved violently as he submerged his body in the lake. His scales, nearly burning from exertion, hissed and steamed as they met the icy water, creating boiling bubbles.
A moment later, he leaped out of the water.
"Drink a barrel of black oil to stimulate my body and keep going for a while longer?"
Feeling the fatigue and soreness in his muscles, Garos slowly exhaled, dismissing the thought.
Too much is as bad as too little.
He needed to rest.
After devouring the massive quantities of food brought by his familiar and swallowing three magic gems in one gulp, the red-iron dragon closed his eyes, sprawled out on a rocky outcrop, and basked in the sunlight for a brief nap.
Three days and nights later, the red-iron dragon awoke under the cover of darkness.
His spirit was refreshed, his qi abundant, and his Cold Exploding Scales had fully grown. The deep black scales merged seamlessly with the night, their silver edges shimmering like moonlight, radiating a faint glow.
"Time to deal with those wild monster lords entrenched in the southwest."
The red-iron dragon unfurled his massive, powerful wings. With a single, gentle flap, he unleashed a fierce gale. His majestic, imposing form tore through the air, soaring skyward. Even without using Aura Burst for acceleration, his normal wingbeats propelled him at astonishing speed.
In the blink of an eye, the red-iron dragon vanished into the night sky.
Southwestern Frontierlands, Sword Cliff.
The Frontierlands were predominantly flat plains, making the Sword Cliff, a sheer precipice that pierced the sky like a blade, all the more striking and conspicuous. Yet, due to the surrounding fertile soil, abundant vegetation, and flowing streams, the area naturally became a habitat for various animal species.
A cave lion crouched low, drinking from the stream, its tail held rigidly taut.
Measuring approximately five meters in length, with razor-sharp teeth and claws, and a powerfully muscled frame, it was a formidable predator. Yet it remained cautious, its ears twitching intermittently as it drank, never losing awareness of the slightest rustle in the surrounding foliage.
In this harsh land, predators far more powerful than itself roamed freely.
It had to be vigilant, it had to be careful.
Suddenly, fine ripples disturbed the water's surface, shimmering like scattered scales under the moonlight.
The cave lion caught the scent of danger. Its muscles tensed instantly, and it sprang backward with lightning speed.
Splash! A massive, iron-clad crocodile erupted from the water, its jaws snapping shut with a thunderous clang, sending sparks flying.
The iron crocodile cast a cold glance at the cave lion before retreating back into the water, making no attempt to pursue it ashore.
Having evaded the underwater ambush, the cave lion turned with silent, graceful steps. Suddenly, darkness fell from above, as if the moonlight had been blotted out by some colossal creature.
The cave lion tensed, ready to flee.
But as it leaped into the air, a searing pain shot through its body. Razor-sharp claws pierced its flesh, gripping its bones.
Simultaneously, a dragon-like head lunged forward, clamping its jaws around the cave lion's nape.
Crack!
With the crisp snap of breaking bone, the cave lion's body went limp, its resistance shattered.
The massive, twisted beast flapped its wings, lifting the cave lion's heavy carcass, and landed in its open-air nest atop Sword Cliff.
Roar!
Roar!
Roar!
Three distinct roars merged into a cacophony that swept across the cliff, sending every creature within earshot into a frenzy of terror, trembling in fear.
Bathed in the pale moonlight, the monster's true form was revealed.
This creature possessed the hindquarters of a goat and the forequarters of a lion, along with dragon wings and three heads: a horned goat head, a maddened lion head, and a ferocious dragon head.
The wild monster lord—the Chimera.
The goat head imbued it with demonic chaos and evil, the dragon head with insatiable greed and warmongering, and the lion head with an insatiable bloodlust.
Moreover, as a subdragon, it possessed a trace of dragon bloodline within its veins.
The Chimera's heads could resemble any of the five chromatic dragon types—red, blue, green, black, or white—and each could unleash a corresponding breath attack.
This particular Chimera, the lord of Sword Cliff, had a red dragon head almost identical to that of a true red dragon, making it the most formidable type of Chimera: a red-headed Chimera.
Its ability to claim such a prominent and exposed location as Sword Cliff, and to nest at its very peak, spoke volumes about its power. Its colossal size far exceeded the norm for Chimeras, marking it as an exceptional individual.
The three heads devoured the cave lion's flesh in perfect synchrony, without the slightest hint of conflict. This suggested that despite having multiple heads, the Chimera's minds were not independent like those of a two-headed ogre. Instead, all its heads were governed by a single consciousness.
"This grotesque and repulsive creature could never be the natural offspring of a true dragon," the red-iron dragon thought, gazing down at the wild monster lord from high above. An instinctive look of disgust and revulsion crossed its face.
According to ancient records, there were two main theories about the Chimera's origins:
1. They were created by a demon lord who sought to imitate dragonkind.
2. They were the degenerate offspring of dragons who indulged in excessive lust.
Seeing the Chimera's hideous form, Garos leaned toward the first theory.
(End of the Chapter)
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