Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

Chapter 118: The True Monarch

Sorog's pupils contracted violently into thin slits, the muscles beneath his iron scales twitching involuntarily.

"Ga...Ga...Garoth?!"

He stared at the red iron dragon before him - several times more massive than himself - forcing the stuttering syllables from his throat with unwilling disbelief.

Perhaps it was the sheer shock.

His voice came out sharp and piercing like a mountain cat's screech, utterly unbefitting an iron dragon, as if he'd been ambushed.

Across from him, Garoth tilted his chin upward in satisfaction, stretching his immense Wings of the Celestial Comet to cast a shadow so vast it completely engulfed Sorog.

"Oh, these sky-blotting wings seem to have grown on me instead. No wonder I couldn't find them on you."

Amusement curled at the corners of his mouth.

The iron dragon Sorog fell silent, opening and closing his jaws several times before ultimately finding no words.

"Rise, my pitiful brother.""Never thought I'd see you brought low beneath ogres."

Having satisfied his vanity through Sorog's reaction, Garoth knew when to stop, refraining from excessive mockery to preserve some dignity for his sibling.

From the moment the ogres first set foot on Shattered Stone Beach, through the iron dragon's tactical retreat with counterattacks by his minions, Garoth had been silently circling above, observing the battle below - though Sorog, focused on the conflict, never noticed his presence.

Garoth witnessed everything, clearly seeing the iron dragon's strategic responses.

Sorog understood his followers' strengths and the ogres' weaknesses perfectly, leveraging terrain and exploiting both sides' characteristics to turn his numerically inferior kobolds and gnolls against the ogres.

For a time, he even reversed the tide, transforming disadvantage into advantage.

The fatal flaw lay in draconic nature itself.

While the iron dragon could think rationally when at a disadvantage, once gaining the upper hand, arrogance and pride clouded his judgment, leading to reckless decisions that resulted in his capture.

Had Sorog suppressed his innate hubris, maintaining patience and rationality throughout, the ogre forces would have suffered heavy losses, forcing Garoth to reveal himself earlier.

Yet even Garoth couldn't fully suppress the negative impulses of their draconic bloodline, so Sorog's lapse was understandable. By Garoth's standards, his performance had been acceptable.

"In managing territories, subjects, and strategy, iron dragons are natural masters."

"With Sorog following me, assisting in territorial governance, I could shed tedious affairs and focus entirely on strengthening myself."

This was Garoth's calculation.

During his first visit to Shattered Stone Beach, upon confirming the Iron King was his brother Sorog, Garoth hadn't revealed himself immediately. Instead, he'd sent forces to attack - partly to demonstrate power worth following, partly to test Sorog's capabilities. Vanity was merely incidental, hardly worth mentioning.

Now it appeared Sorog, despite flaws, showed promise. At merely eighteen - still a Young Dragon - he had ample room for growth.

The ogre sorcerer dispelled the binding spells, the chains coiling around Sorog withdrawing.

Weakly propping himself up, the iron dragon bared his fangs slightly, muttering excuses: "I was merely careless, and they outnumbered me with superior weapons while my followers proved useless against them."

Garoth shook his head, bluntly refuting: "No, not carelessness."

He pointed directly to Sorog's critical error:

"Your arrogance doomed you."

"You knew perfectly well Gluttonous Ogres rival dragons, that Dragon-blooded Gluttonous Ogres demand caution."

"Yet you arrogantly believed you could decapitate their leader, losing patience after minimal probing, only to be seized and dragged down instead."

Garoth continued measuredly: "You should be grateful it was me you faced."

"Otherwise, pride would have killed you."

Sorog offered no rebuttal, for Garoth spoke truth he himself recognized.

He knew he shouldn't succumb to arrogance and consciously fought it, but sometimes, as draconic blood boiled within, he forgot.

The Young Iron Dragon fell silent again, shifting slightly as pain sharpened his awareness.

Gazing at his brother - now imposing and formidable, nothing like the adorable two-year-old - he asked: "Garoth, did you come specifically to mock my foolishness and weakness? To shame me?"

Even as a wyrmling, Sorog had recognized his brother's superior potential.

The positively hybridized red iron dragon possessed talent rivaling Gold Dragons.

He'd schemed endlessly to trick Garoth into joining his wilderness survival, but to his dismay, even at one or two years old, Garoth saw through every ploy.

Back then, he'd predicted that barring premature death, Garoth would surpass him - remarkable self-awareness for a dragon's inherent arrogance.

What Sorog never anticipated was that Garoth, not even fourteen and not yet a Young Dragon, would already outstrip him, appearing terrifyingly powerful at first glance - enough to evoke faint fear when their eyes met.

This gap, this intimidation, filled the iron dragon with profound frustration and resentment surpassing even the bitterness of defeat by ogres.

He who harbored grand ambitions of building a draconic empire now lay prostrate before his younger brother, unable to even overcome his sibling's followers.

Garoth shook his head slowly, solemnly.

"Sorog, my dear brother, this isn't mockery, but reminder."

Lowering his formidable head to meet the Young Iron Dragon's gaze, he continued: "You're the most intelligent, ambitious iron dragon I've known. Our shared blood lets me understand you."

"Temporary defeat won't discourage you, nor will victory intoxicate you."

"You'll learn from both wins and losses."

"Only arrogance and conceit hinder your growth."

"But I've always believed you differ from other dragons - that you can overcome these, transcend yourself."

With each sentence Garoth spoke, the Young Iron Dragon's eyes brightened fractionally, his drooping head lifting inch by inch, tail swaying unconsciously.

He remained utterly unaware that Garoth's speech mirrored the motivational rhetoric from The Prince for recruiting followers - fundamentally similar to his own childhood manipulations, simply replacing negative suppression with positive guidance.

Finally, the red iron dragon grinned at his mud-streaked brother, extending a claw.

"Sorog, my dear brother, I want you by my side as we build a glorious draconic empire together, restoring our kind's ancient splendor. This shared dream belongs to both of us, and both must realize it."

The Young Iron Dragon froze momentarily.

Lifting his head to gaze at Garoth - his backlit silhouette blurred save for those brilliantly gleaming eyes - he felt an indescribable, overwhelming palpitation surge through him.

Not fear, nor nervousness.

Something far more profound and ineffable that left his draconic mind utterly blank.