novelraw Chapter 117: The Redwing Lord and the Iron King's Reunion
Chapter 117: The Redwing Lord and the Iron King's Reunion
The massive figure leaped across the river channel in a single bound, crushing an unfortunate gnoll beneath its feet.
"Dragon-blooded Gluttonous Ogre?!"
Sorog felt a chill run down his spine.
He didn't understand the origins of this Dragon-blooded Gluttonous Ogre, nor could he quickly decipher its relationship with the Stone Giants.
But that didn't stop Sorog from realizing this creature was the leader of the ogre warband.
At this moment, the ogres caught the kobolds who had been harassing them underwater, tearing them apart before crossing the bloodied river. They endured the gnolls' poisoned arrows as they reached the opposite shore.
Facing overwhelming strength disparity,
The commands issued by the Iron Dragon had some effect, but only just.
"Retreat!"
Sorog made a swift decision, ordering his forces to abandon the beachhead.Rather than engaging the Dragon-blooded Gluttonous Ogre directly, he led his followers in retreat—not straight backward, but downstream along the riverbank while using his dragon breath to harass and obstruct the Gluttonous Ogre and ogre sorcerers.
One minute later.
Squelch!
The leading ogre's foot sank deep into the ground, submerging most of its calf.
Unnoticed, the ogres had been lured into an area of soft silt. Their massive, heavy bodies now became liabilities as each step sank deep into the muck, requiring great effort to pull free.
The gnolls could traverse this terrain with ease, while the kobolds simply burrowed through the silt for rapid movement.
"Halt! Counterattack!"
Sorog issued concise commands.
His gnoll warriors surrounded the bogged-down ogres in the silt flats, using poisoned arrows, javelins, and spears to harass them. Leveraging their speed and agility, they began retaliating against the immobilized ogres.
Watching the ogres struggling pathetically through the silt,
Iron Dragon Sorog's lips curled into a cold smile, his dragon pupils burning with the illusion of victory.
His gaze locked onto the Dragon-blooded Gluttonous Ogre.
Though the target could break free from the silt through brute strength, its movements had slowed considerably with half its body trapped.
"Just some worthless ogres daring to oppose the mighty Iron King,"
Sorog thought to himself.
Originally intending to retreat and avoid confrontation,
After gaining some advantage, he began considering annihilating this ogre warband instead.
Giants and dragons were equally mighty creatures,
But ogres were beneath notice—even Gluttonous Ogres weren't worthy of his fear.
Being forced to retreat by ogres would be the ultimate humiliation. The mighty Iron King would bury these insolent creatures in the swamp.
The Iron Dragon folded his wings and dove at Karu like an arrow.
His claws aimed for the Gluttonous Ogre's neck.
At the last instant, Sorog suddenly veered sideways, avoiding direct confrontation to slash the ogre's shoulder instead, drawing steaming hot blood.
This first strike was merely a probe.
Sorog remained cautious.
He continued testing the Gluttonous Ogre with measured attacks, leaving wound after wound with claws and breath while dodging all counterattacks.
"Slow reactions, and stupid—all its attacks are straightforward with no variation."
The ogre's performance matched the stereotypical descriptions from ancestral records.
Sorog's arrogance grew steadily. Seeking quicker results, his attacks became increasingly aggressive while his defenses weakened.
Whoosh!
The Iron Dragon spread his wings and dove again toward the Gluttonous Ogre.
This time, his claws aimed true for the neck—no longer testing, but striking faster than any previous attack.
Yet,
Just before impact,
The Gluttonous Ogre suddenly grinned wide.
Its Wolf Tooth Club swung upward at an impossible angle—swift and vicious—hammering into Sorog's torso. Diamond-hard spikes tore through scales, carving a ghastly wound.
Crushing weight and searing pain erupted from below.
The Iron Dragon was sent flying, his ten-meter body tumbling through the silt, plowing a deep furrow.
Worse still,
As Sorog struggled up and flexed his wings,
The Twin-headed Sorcerer's spell completed precisely then—one acid ray and one cold ray striking the wings simultaneously, as if premeditated.
Acid ate through wing membranes while frost formed brittle crystals at the joints.
Sorog staggered, trying to take flight again,
But the Gluttonous Ogre—now free from the silt—came crashing down like a cannonball.
Boom! The Wolf Tooth Club smashed squarely into the Iron Dragon's head, driving it into the muck.
When the ogre moved in for the kill, Sorog thrashed wildly, roaring as his claws raked deep gashes along its arms.
The bloodied dragon head lowered and rammed violently into the ogre, plowing it backward through the silt while sharp iron horns tore through the ogre's chest scales, leaving mangled flesh.
But it was ultimately futile.
The Dragon-blooded Gluttonous Ogre's vitality matched a dragon's.
Karu stood his ground against the Iron Dragon, and with concentrated attacks from the sorcerers, quickly turned the tide. More ogre warriors swarmed in, ignoring gnoll and kobold harassments to surround Sorog completely.
Some time later,
Sorog collapsed under the ogres' onslaught—exhausted and bound in alchemical chains.
The fleeing gnolls and kobolds were likewise captured.
"Hey, Iron Dragon. Submit to the mighty Redwing Lord,"
Karu said after the battle, leaning on his Wolf Tooth Club for support as he stood before the battered Iron Dragon.
As the main force against the Young Dragon, he'd borne the brunt of counterattacks. Even the Dragon-blooded Gluttonous Ogre's physique had suffered severe wounds before finally subduing the Young Iron Dragon.
Sorog seemed dazed.
That sounded like a dragon's title, not a Stone Giant's.
"Aren't you the Stone Giants' vassals?"
Something felt wrong, and Sorog struggled to ask.
"Stone Giants? Oh, you mean those at Tempering Heights? The mighty Redwing Lord already wiped them out,"
Ugor chimed in, knowing their Dragon Lord watched from above: "The great Redwing Lord—he's the harbinger of death, the crimson divine retribution, the supreme Dragon King destined to rule the wilds!"
"Submit to the Redwing Lord. Swear fealty—it's your only chance to live."
The Iron Dragon fell silent.
He hadn't expected these ogres to serve a dragon, nor that their so-called Redwing Lord had annihilated the Stone Giant camp.
"Your Redwing Lord... is a red dragon?"
Sorog asked again.
Suddenly—
Before the ogres could answer—a thunderous roar came from the skies.
Instinctively, Sorog raised his head to see a crimson comet tearing through the clouds in descent.
No,
Not a comet.
At this distance, he could clearly see it was a dragon—wings trailing dark crimson flames, leaving a long comet-like tail across the sky.
The Redwing Lord descended rapidly.
Ogres wisely cleared an open space.
BOOM! Just before impact, the massive dragon's wings flared, generating gale-force winds and shockwaves while his body came to a perfect halt before the fallen Iron Dragon Sorog.
Sorog stared dumbfounded at the Redwing Lord.
Twelve meters long—similar to himself—yet appearing several times more massive. Those enormous, exaggerated wings with unique structure, dense scales, thick tail, and muscle contours visible even through the armored hide... all combined into an inconceivably formidable form.
At first glance,
It resembled a red dragon clad in heavy armor—unmatchably powerful.
Strangely, Sorog sensed something familiar about him.
But in this critical moment, he had no time to ponder the source.
"Mighty Redwing Lord,"
Sorog lowered his head, avoiding direct eye contact as he spoke softly: "If I've offended you unwittingly, I offer my territory and vassals as recompense. I beg your forgiveness."
Among dragons,
The defeated could avoid death by yielding to the victor.
Without deep enmity, dragon battles rarely ended fatally—usually serving to teach lessons or establish dominance. The victor typically demanded temporary servitude or sufficient ransom.
Had this been against hated giants,
Sorog would have fought to the death.
But between dragons, bowing his head wasn't unacceptable. The worst outcome would be temporary vassalage.
After speaking, Sorog awaited response.
Several seconds later,
He heard a voice—altered yet hauntingly familiar.
"Raise your head. Look at me closely."
The Iron Dragon's eyes widened in shock as he looked up.
The spiked, scale-covered draconic visage was unfamiliar.
But those jet-black eyes, that "looking-at-an-idiot" expression, and those telltale red-iron hybrid features grew increasingly recognizable.
No way?
No way!
A suspicion formed in his mind—too absurd to believe.
"Oh, Sorog. My foolish, pitiful, weak little brother."
"So it's you. My apologies—I thought it was another dragon. My vassals might have been... overzealous."
Garoth gazed down at the Iron Dragon, tilting his head slightly in apology before asking curiously:
"Where are those world-covering wings of yours? I don't see them."