Translator: AnubisTL
In Dragon Valley, on the training ground pounded as hard as iron.
"Wh... Powerful Pale Wing! This training regimen... is simply too harsh."
Black dragon Seraphina felt her muscles groaning under the unbearable strain as she finally couldn't help but voice her painful protest to the supervisor, White Dragon Treacy.
"Harsh?!"
White Dragon Treacy sneered, her dragon eyes full of disdain. "Compared to the daily hardships the Ironforged Lord endures, your pitiful training intensity is a mere drop in the bucket."
The little dragons around—red dragon Cahill, blue dragon Heliam, and green dragon Ludwig—including the black dragon, all involuntarily showed expressions of doubt on their faces. They were clearly skeptical of Treacy's words.
But just then.
Whoosh—!
A sudden, violent gust of wind swept through, accompanied by a distinct tremor from the ground. A figure, like a burning meteorite, suddenly soared out of the Burning Steel Fortress. With a suffocating sense of pressure, it landed precisely in the center of the super-heavy training ground nearby, specifically designed for extreme workouts.
"Look at the doubt in your lazy eyes," Treacy sneered, her gaze burning as she looked up at the Red Iron Dragon's mighty, towering form, which radiated a scorching, metallic heat. "Then watch closely! Open your eyes wide and see how our Ironforged Lord tempers himself! Soon you will understand that what you should envy most is not the power he wields now, but his will—a will more stubborn than the hardest steel and more brilliant than the sun in the sky!"
At her words, the little dragons involuntarily turned their skeptical gazes toward the super-gravity training ground.
At that exact moment, Garos, the Red Iron Dragon, snapped his massive wings. His colossal body shot into the air, instantly hovering. With a clean, decisive flip, he inverted himself, hanging vertically upside down as he snapped his broad wings shut.
When his fierce, imposing dragon head was less than a meter from the ground—
Whoosh—
His immense wings unfurled like war banners.
A violent blast of air, carrying sand and stone, erupted outward in a radial shockwave. The sheer pressure of the wind was so intense that the little dragons watching from afar could barely keep their eyes open.
When their gazes finally pierced the swirling sand and dust to see the red-iron dragon's posture, every breath caught in their throats.
Shock.
The red-iron dragon's mountain-heavy body was now balanced in an impossible handstand, its entire terrifying weight supported solely by its wing bones as it stood steadily upon the solid earth.
Every fold of the tough wing membrane seemed to be under unimaginable pressure, trembling slightly. The knotted muscles where the wings met its massive torso emitted a tooth-grinding creak, like countless steel cables strained to their absolute limit.
Under the little dragons' increasingly stunned, almost frozen stares, the red-iron dragon steadily lowered itself to the ground. Its four powerful claws dug deep into the earth. Then, it folded its wings tight against its broad back. Its thick, powerful tail, like a living giant python, slithered flexibly up the curve of its back, eventually hooking its tip around the base of its own imposing dragon horns.
Its entire body, from neck to tail, had formed a closed loop.
The next second—
That body, which seemed clumsy, sluggish, and heavy as a mountain, suddenly erupted with inconceivable resilience and agility. It began to coil like a spring, dragon scales grinding and clashing violently against one another, sending countless tiny sparks flying. When his maw nearly touched his powerful tail vertebrae, his massive dragon body was compressed into a near-perfect sphere.
BOOM—!!!
The coiled dragon body, like a colossal bow drawn tight by a god and then released, unleashed a terrifyingly powerful recoil as the muscles connecting head and tail snapped. His body shot straight into the sky, burning into an orange-red meteor as it tore through the air, trailing a long plume of smoke as it crashed deep into the clouds before steadily descending back to the ground.
The scales on his body slightly opened and closed, radiating intense heat that clashed violently with the frigid air, creating a dense, cloud-like white steam.
He slowly rose to his full height, fully extending his giant wings and powerful dragon arms.
He stretched freely, revealing a dragon body that was towering, fierce, and strong to the absolute limit... yet possessed a breathtaking, heart-stopping beauty.
Without a single pause or breath of respite, he began a new round of training in the heavy-gravity training ground.
To the little dragons, every one of his movements seemed utterly impossible to perform. Yet, on his body, they were executed with a perfection and raw power that left the onlookers in awe.
I'd give anything to feel a body like that completely crush and ravage me...
White Dragon Treacy ran her crimson tongue over her lower jaw in longing, her gaze locked onto Garos. She made no effort to hide the burning lust and possessiveness swirling within her eyes.
She had coveted Garos for a long time, yet she knew he would never spare a glance for her relatively "slender and delicate" white dragon form.
Suddenly, Treacy whipped her head around. She channeled her uncontrollable restlessness and a hint of frustration into a different kind of "motivation," her gaze sweeping over the other little dragons like a blade.
"Did you all see that? Now, who still thinks they've reached their limit? Who dares complain that their training is too intense?!"
White Dragon Treacy lashed her tail, the sound of it cutting through the air. She tore open her jaws in a grin that was both cruel and exhilarated.
"Now, it's time for your 'strike resistance training'! Line up and wait obediently for my lashings."
Before her words had even faded, her dragon tail, covered in hard scales, whipped out like a steel lash.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
Dull yet sharp strikes rang out in succession, landing precisely on each little dragon. Their scales shattered instantly, flesh tearing open to reveal bloody gashes.
Yet, perhaps stimulated by the red-iron dragon's inhuman will and powerful physique, an unprecedented yearning and anticipation for strength sprouted in the little dragons' hearts. Even as they endured the white dragon's merciless lashings, they merely gritted their sharp fangs, swallowing their agonized roars. They suffered in silence, the flames of defiance and longing burning in their eyes.
Elsewhere, Garos, who was undergoing his own extreme training, naturally noticed White Dragon Treacy "training" the little dragons.
But he merely glanced over, his dragon eyes showing no ripple of emotion. He immediately withdrew his gaze and continued to focus on his own training, with no intention of intervening.
Dragonkind had managed to survive and flourish across countless planes and worlds.
Their innate ability to adapt to extreme environments was a key factor in their success.
Even if other dragons lacked Garos's god-tier evolutionary talent, making it impossible to match his efficiency, day after day of targeted training would still be immensely beneficial to them.
Strength, speed, defense, endurance... all these basic attributes could be significantly improved through persistent training.
Surpassing Garos might be an unreachable dream, but surpassing their lazy kin—who knew only how to sleep and plunder—was a certainty.
Unfortunately, many dragons were born ruled by a lazy nature. They stubbornly believed that simply eating, sleeping, and waiting for time to pass would naturally increase their strength. As a result, they utterly lacked the precious awareness to train themselves.
White Dragon Treacy was a perfect example.
She knew all too well that Garos's power was inextricably linked to his relentless, almost self-torturous training, and she had even tried to imitate his methods.
But the excruciating pain and mind-numbing boredom quickly eroded her enthusiasm, making it impossible for her to persevere.
In the end, she gave up on her own training entirely.
After all, for her, inflicting this "rigor" on other dragons was far simpler and more amusing than demanding the same discipline of herself.
From another perspective, having a "dedicated" supervisor and "special training officer" like the white dragon was actually a net positive for the little dragons' growth. It would allow them to master their power more quickly in this peril-filled, dog-eat-dog world, giving them the means to protect themselves and even grow strong.
Meanwhile.
The Estonian Great River flowed along the southern bank of the Frontierlands.
The wide river's surface, caressed by a gentle breeze, rippled in countless fine waves. Under the afternoon sun, it shimmered with a thousand golden glints, creating a breathtaking, sparkling vista.
Several deep-draft merchant ships sailed unhurriedly with the gentle swell of the water, their bows slowly turning as they approached the river channel leading to the Frontierlands.
"Young man, I'm truly curious,"
The captain of one of the merchant ships—a weather-beaten middle-aged man—leaned against the railing and looked at the youth standing before him, his voice tinged with confusion and a hint of worry.
"Why are you heading to the Frontierlands? Most people wouldn't call it a safe or friendly place."
The young man being questioned was named Alberto, and he looked to be around twenty years old.
His skin was fair, his features so handsome they were nearly flawless. A sun-bright, infectious smile was permanently etched on his face. Shoulder-length, golden curly hair fluttered in the breeze, and he wore simple leather armor designed for easy movement. A rolled-up map, a leather waterskin, and a formidable-looking shortsword were all neatly fastened to his waist—the quintessential attire of an adventurer.
Just a few days ago, when Alberto had overheard that this fleet was bound for the Frontierlands, he had approached the captain and politely asked for a ride.
The captain had naturally demanded payment.
Alberto had offered a shy, apologetic smile and frankly admitted he was short on funds.
Under normal circumstances, no captain would ever agree to take a stranger on board without tangible compensation. It was against both the rules of the trade and common sense, given the risks involved.
And yet...
When the captain met Alberto's gaze—those clear, sincere, azure eyes that seemed to hold the stars and the sea—he found himself nodding in agreement, making an exception for the young man.
"I've heard—"
Alberto gestured to his adventurer's attire, his smile still brilliant, but his eyes now held a hint of curiosity. "—that the Frontierlands today seem to be different from the chaotic and perilous place of legend."
He paused, his gaze fixed on the sun-drenched shoreline drawing closer at the ship's bow.
"As you can see, I am an adventurer driven by a passion for the unknown. I've always felt an irrepressible curiosity for lands shrouded in mystery and seldom visited. Besides... the Frontierlands seem to be undergoing some strange transformations, making them all the more worth witnessing firsthand."
He shifted his tone, turning to the captain with a perfectly measured thirst for knowledge.
"You seem to be a regular here, not a stranger to these waters. Do you know why this land is changing? What power is reshaping its order?"
Under the young man's gaze—eyes that seemed to possess a magical allure—the usually taciturn and unhelpful captain suddenly felt an overwhelming urge to speak.
(End of the Chapter)
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