Translator: AnubisTL
Between the Sierre Wilderness and the Permafrost Tundra lies the Frontierlands.
As time passed, the Ironforged Tribe flourished, their growth fueled by the spoils of victory. As they assimilated their gains, their foundations strengthened across all aspects, radiating vitality.
In terms of population:
The "Three Divine Familiars"—hyena-men, kobolds, and lizardfolk—required no further explanation.
With sufficient food, they multiplied like wildfire, their numbers surging in waves. Even after the Ironforged Tribe united the Frontierlands and optimized resource management, they still had to regulate the breeding of these core familiars. Breeding halls were established within their respective tribes, along with strict rules.
Ogres, centaurs, and graymane werewolves had longer growth cycles and less efficient reproduction, but their individual strength was considerable, and they produced a steady stream of elite warriors.
For these mid-tier chosen, the Ironforged Tribe adopted a strategy of encouraging reproduction.
This included the bipedal flying dragons.
Bipedal flying dragons are subdragons of the evil alignment, and they have little inclination to care for their young. Under normal circumstances, when they feel the burden of their kin becoming too heavy, they might discard their eggs or even consume them themselves for sustenance when hungry.
To address this, their eggs are collected and cared for collectively.
The wyverns are spared the trouble of raising their offspring and are even encouraged to breed. The tribe has accumulated a considerable number of eggs, and once they hatch and mature, the Ironforged Tribe's aerial forces will once again expand.
As the environment stabilizes, resources become abundant, and the population grows, the number of elite leaders among the major tribes also steadily increases.
These races, long accustomed to living in barren lands, seem to possess a unique evolutionary mechanism.
Once their scale reaches a certain threshold, they naturally produce more sorcerers, warlords, and other elite leaders.
For example, the hyena-man tribes once had only one warlord, Bloodtooth Hodge. Now, there are over a dozen hyena-men like the younger Hodge serving as warlords, primarily holding leadership positions within the Steel Will Legion.
As the population and number of leaders develop...
Fueled by the abundant mineral resources of the Frontierlands, the presence of a black oilfield, and access to core tools through trade, the Ironforged Tribe's alchemy industry flourished at an unprecedented rate.
Weapons and armor forged from fine steel rolled off assembly lines in daily production.
Their bosses could even equip themselves with runic weapons and armor enhanced through alchemy.
Various alchemy golems were also manufactured, though their models were somewhat outdated and crude, they were still functional.
When resources are abundant, the alchemy industry's growth far outpaces that of other sectors.
The Ironforged Tribe had transformed into a ravenous giant beast, devouring the Frontierlands' resources daily. It grew at a rate far exceeding anything seen before, rapidly expanding its power and becoming increasingly militarized.
Even without considering Garos's influence, the Ironforged Tribe's overall strength now surpassed that of any of the Four Great Tribes of the Frontierlands.
What was once a tribe had evolved into a city-state, vast in territory and population, capable of challenging even some minor duchies in battle.
As the Ironforged Tribe consolidated its dominance over the Frontierlands...
Groups of meticulously trained kobolds were dispatched in batches to the Permafrost Tundra.
There, they would make contact with the Northern Tribes, relaying firsthand intelligence about the tundra back to the Ironforged Tribe.
Meanwhile, elite vanguard units composed of centaurs, ogres, and werewolves crossed the Estonian Great River in successive waves. Supported by the main camp, they swiftly returned to the Sierre Wilderness to prepare for subsequent plans.
The metal-based fortress, constructed over more than three months, was finally completed.
Its walls, built primarily from red steel blocks, reflected a glow like red-hot iron under the sunlight. The structure was named the Burning Steel Citadel.
Garos's days remained remarkably stable and peaceful.
He seldom concerned himself with managing the territory's affairs, leaving that task primarily to Solgorn. His time was instead devoted to his personal training and self-improvement, and he showed no signs of complacency despite the empty title of "King of the Frontierlands."
Day after day, night after night, the red-iron dragon continued his relentless training. Through constant physical tempering and adaptive evolution, his already formidable physical attributes continued to grow steadily, far exceeding those of his peers.
Deborah often joined him during these sessions.
Though she couldn't match the red-iron dragon's pace, the red-silver dragon had also grown stronger, her back rising and falling in a steady rhythm, her limbs now agile and powerful.
Whoosh!
The biting wind howled and swept through the air.
The Frontierlands' climate was notoriously unpredictable. After months of heavy snow, light, scattered flakes had been falling ever since. Cold winds and icy currents continued to blast from the north, lasting longer than usual, making one wonder if the land was about to be swallowed by the Permafrost Tundra.
In the southwest of the Frontierlands lay the Fertile Plains and an abyssal rift.
Snowflakes, fine as dust, drifted slowly down in the wind.
A special training was taking place here.
Under the curious gazes of some familiar guards, the Serpentfolk Blademaster coiled her tail muscles taut, her upper body erect and proud. Her arms unfurled like flower petals, and the blade of her sword, which had drunk countless drops of demon blood, gleamed with lethal sharpness.
"Dragon Lord, I'm here," she declared, taking a deep breath and addressing the imposing, powerfully built red-iron dragon before her. Her gaze suddenly sharpened, her entire demeanor transforming into that of a drawn sword.
Swish!
Dozens of meters vanished in the blink of an eye.
The Serpentfolk Blademaster moved like lightning, instantly appearing before the red-iron dragon. Six longswords traced arcs of danger, each blade reflecting the dragon's form.
Her movements were like a tidal wave!
Extra Attack!
Sharp Sword Shadows!
The six-armed serpentfolk let out a low growl as her swords dissolved into a flurry of afterimages, engulfing the red-iron dragon in a continuous, relentless assault. Like a surging tide, each strike was followed by an additional blow before the dragon could react, the afterimages of her blades carrying their own damaging momentum.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The air filled with the relentless clang of metal on metal, and fiery sparks flew in all directions.
In the blink of an eye, the Serpentfolk Blademaster had unleashed dozens, even hundreds, of strikes. Even a solid block of fine steel would have been shattered under her peerless assault.
Yet the red-iron dragon remained unmoved, enduring the Blademaster's onslaught.
Like a reef battered by the ocean tide, it stood firm against the relentless waves, each crashing blow failing to leave a mark.
The combination of the six-armed serpentfolk race and the Blademaster class created a combat style with a certain numerical beauty, nearly equivalent to three human sword saints of the same level acting in perfect coordination. While not capable of sweeping through all opponents at their level, it represented one of the most powerful and effective combat pairings available.
However.
When it came to raw numbers, there was always a higher mountain to climb.
Compared to the Red Iron Martial Dragon, she was like a "rookie" in terms of raw stats.
The exchange of blows continued.
The six-armed Serpentfolk Blademaster unleashed a relentless barrage of strikes against the red-iron dragon, which endured the assault without retaliating.
Crack!
Soon, all the Cold Exploding Scales shattered, revealing the dragon's second layer of black-red scales.
Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle. As the scales vibrated slightly, waves of heat radiated from the dragon's body, distorting the air and evaporating moisture into a thick, scorching white mist.
Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang!
The metallic clash of weapons and scales continued unabated.
The Six-armed Serpent Woman was drenched in sweat, her skin flushed crimson by the intense heat, but she didn't falter. She even resorted to explosive techniques, her sword slicing through the dragon's black-red scales and leaving behind bleeding wounds. The residual sword energy carved deep trenches into the surrounding earth.
"Enough," the red-iron dragon finally said.
The Six-armed Serpent Woman gasped in relief, her chest heaving violently as she struggled for breath, her stamina nearly depleted.
In contrast, the red-iron dragon stood relatively unscathed.
Though covered in shallow and deep sword wounds oozing blood, and his scales crisscrossed with spiderweb-like cracks, his aura remained strong. The seemingly severe injuries were merely minor inconveniences to him.
(End of the Chapter)
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