Translator: AnubisTL
On the snow-swept Fertile Plains, the red-iron dragon gently stretched his body. A fine, stinging sensation immediately spread across his body. He tensed his muscles slightly, and the tiny wounds instantly stopped bleeding.
He glanced at his cracked scales.
Few dragons would train themselves by having their familiars attack them for practice. His black-red scales already bore numerous battle-scarred patterns, and as these cracks healed, a portion would transform into new battle-scarred patterns.
"At this rate, I'll likely have my scales completely covered in battle-scarred patterns by the time I reach adulthood, or at the latest, middle age."
"Moreover, my Cold Exploding Scale has a unique structure with no battle-scarred patterns. The battle-scarred patterns are mainly on the inner dragon scales."
"If other dragons or creatures knowledgeable about dragonkind see my clean scales and assume I'm a weakling, then provoke and attack me, they'll suddenly discover my body covered in battle-scarred patterns after shattering the Cold Exploding Scale. I wonder what their reaction would be? Hmm, perhaps they'd be pleasantly surprised."
A playful smile curled the red-iron dragon's lips at the thought.
"Praise to the Dragon Lord! Your scales have grown even harder."
The Serpent Woman exhaled slowly, lowered her head, and replied respectfully.
The first time the Lord of the Frontierlands sought her out as a sparring partner, her sword had left deep marks on his body. However, with each subsequent encounter, the red-iron dragon scale armor's resistance to sharp weapons rapidly improved.
Until now.
Even with her peerless sword's cutting power, she could still pierce the dragon scales, but only barely slice through the outermost layer of flesh—utterly failing to inflict any real damage.
This visible rate of improvement was terrifying.
Garos nodded slightly and said, "Naris, take your weapons to the Black Iron Plains and have the alchemists refine and strengthen them. Their materials are excellent, but the forging techniques are too crude."
The Serpent Sword Saint was an excellent sparring partner.
Thanks to her, Garos's resistance to slashing damage had significantly improved without yet reaching its limit, making him value her highly.
"Next time, I expect your sword to be even sharper, leaving deeper wounds on my body."
Naris responded, "Naris will not fail your expectations."
As she spoke, she felt increasingly grateful for the choice she had made long ago.
The red-iron dragon simply allowed her attacks to continue, effortlessly draining her stamina to the brink while remaining completely still.
While this was partly due to her failure to deliberately target weak points, the red-iron dragon also made no move to counterattack.
In a real life-or-death battle, a single hit from the red-iron dragon would have been enough to end the fight for the Serpentfolk Blademaster.
The Serpentfolk Blademaster's pride had been shattered after several sparring sessions with the red-iron dragon.
Meanwhile, White Dragon Treacy crouched on the ground, stretching her neck to watch.
"Naris always acts so aloof in the presence of a magnificent mature dragon like myself."
"But the moment Garos arrives, her ecological niche plummets, and she becomes as docile as a little lamb."
She flicked her tail, pleased that the outcome matched her predictions.
Since mastering the Dynamic Niche Theory, whenever she felt angry, simply recalling the theory would gradually dissipate the fiery rage of her dragon bloodline. Over time, this had brought Treacy a growing sense of calm, which in turn made her studies in magic effortless and highly efficient.
Garos noticed the white dragon's expression, as if she had just grasped a profound truth. "As I suspected," it seemed to say.
He remained silent, likely guessing her thoughts.
"Garos, when will the Ironforged Tribe have new young dragons?"
Under Garos's gaze, White Dragon Treacy propped herself up, seizing the opportunity to ask, her voice brimming with anticipation.
She was impatient to experience the thrill of humiliating young dragons from above.
"When the time comes," Garos replied.
The familiars of the Frontierlands kept watch while patrolling, but they had found no traces of dragons. The same was true for the scouts and pioneers in the Permafrost Tundra and Sierre Wilderness.
Both the Frontierlands and the Sierre Wilderness were vast and sprawling.
Though dragonkind wasn't rare, they were far from common. The names of Dragon Valley and the Ironforged Tribe had yet to spread, so encountering other young dragons required a good deal of luck.
Garos briefly instructed his familiars to guard the abyssal rift, then flapped his wings and vanished into the howling wind in an instant.
Dragon Valley, Burning Steel Citadel.
The majestic fortress stood atop the cliff, unyielding against the wind and snow.
Its asymmetrical design featured sharp towers resembling dragon horns, and its walls bore numerous fusion marks and cracks. When viewed from a distance, these patterns formed intricate dragon-like markings. Though it appeared rough at first glance, the structure possessed a unique and striking aesthetic, perfectly embodying the dragon race's architectural style. The primary guards of the citadel were Earthstorm Bears and wyverns.
At that moment, a red-iron dragon appeared in the skies above Burning Steel Citadel.
He folded his wings and slowly descended, landing directly on a protruding terrace. His claws clattered against the hard metal floor.
Garos stood at the terrace's edge, gazing down at the entire Dragon Valley laid out before him.
By now, the shallow wounds left by the sword saint had mostly healed.
Garos's regeneration speed had been steadily improving.
While he was still far from the lightning-fast regeneration he displayed during combat, when he could regenerate as quickly as thorn spikes, he could now rapidly recover from injuries after a battle.
Of course, this rapid regeneration came at a cost, draining his energy.
Garos pulled a barrel of 95 Black Oil from his space ring and downed it in gulps. He immediately felt his spirit surge, the depleted energy replenished to a great extent.
With the advancement of the alchemy industry, production of high-grade black oils like 95 Black Oil, which Garos once reserved for special occasions, had increased. Now he could occasionally indulge in a hearty drink.
"Guess a color!"
"I am the flame of birth and the falling leaf of decay; I symbolize forbidden danger and the ultimate passion."
"—Hybrid dragon, what color am I?"
The red-silver dragon emerged from the arched doorway behind the balcony, her voice brimming with excitement.
"Red."
Garos answered after a few seconds of thought.
"Correct! Now it's your turn to ask a riddle!" the red-silver dragon exclaimed joyfully.
"Wait, I need to train to vent this fiery energy."
The 95 Black Oil had transformed into blazing energy within his body. As he spoke, flames erupted from his mouth and nostrils. With a flap of his dragon wings, he soared into Dragon Valley and began his training among the super-heavy equipment.
The red-silver dragon was not idle either.
Unable to drink the black oil, she followed Garos's example and drank a magic potion that stimulated her body. Then, she trained alongside the robust red-iron dragon.
Sun rose and set, and snow fell in soft flakes.
In the blink of an eye, several more months passed, and the time was early New Era 251.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
With each deep breath, the red-iron dragon's chest resonated with a drum-like rhythm as he trained his heart using the Bloodburst Technique.
Suddenly, a faint pulse through his bloodline reached him.
"Garos, a juvenile dragon has been spotted flying across the Estonian Great River towards the Frontierlands from a hidden sentry on the border."
The voice of Iron Dragon Solgorn echoed in Garos's mind through their bloodline connection.
"Tell me more," Garos replied, slowly exhaling.
"The report comes from a bullywug hidden sentry residing in the river."
Bullywugs, primarily aquatic creatures, had been discovered by the Ironforged Tribe after they unified the Frontierlands. A clan of them was found in the Estonian Great River and quickly subjugated. Now, they primarily inhabit the southern riverbanks, managing trade and acting as sentinels.
"They detected dragon blood in the water and discovered a young female red dragon flying over the Estonian Great River."
There was a pause before Iron Dragon Solgorn continued, "However, the red dragon appeared to be in poor condition, leaving a trail of blood and bearing wounds as if being pursued."
"Wait, new information just arrived. A group of dwarf cavalry with golems is crossing the river, pursuing the red dragon in the direction it fled."
"They're coming from the Sierre Wilderness."
"Being pursued."
"Dwarves."
The red-iron dragon halted his heart training, a glint in his eyes. "Tell the familiars to remain cautious and maintain strict concealment."
After a moment's thought, he added, "Summon Samantha and the grand artificer. We'll investigate personally."
If these were regular Federation troops, they would undoubtedly carry communication devices.
To be safe, it would be best to bring an alchemist capable of blocking such transmissions.
After over a year of relative peace, a new variable had emerged within the Ironforged Tribe. As soon as his conversation with Solgorn ended, the red-iron dragon stretched his massive frame and suddenly soared into the sky.
(End of the Chapter)
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