novelraw Chapter 141: The Dragon Hunting Team
Chapter 141: The Dragon Hunting Team
"This attack on the gem mine was still somewhat reckless, and the gains weren't worth the risk."
"I shouldn't have taken such risks just for momentary satisfaction."
"Too impulsive. I should have been more cautious, more careful."
The red iron dragon reflected silently.
But another emotion soon surged within him.
When his flame thunder breath blasted the first ballista, when the anti-flight pillars and golem bodies shattered beneath his claws, that long-lost, pure, almost savage exhilaration felt like biting through a saber-toothed tiger's throat for the first time in his youth.
Years of deliberate self-restraint for survival's sake.
Found momentary relief today.
He never liked living cautiously - it was merely a necessity for survival.
The red iron dragon suddenly accelerated, tearing through the clouds to reach higher altitudes, letting the torrential rain wash away the smell of gunpowder from his scales.Beneath the brief sunlight above the storm clouds, he stretched his battered body.
"I mustn't forget caution, mustn't be too impulsive."
"But!"
"Only the weak hesitate endlessly. One day, I'll live without caution, without restraint, completely free!"
Garoth took a deep breath of the thin high-altitude air, filling his lungs with icy oxygen.
He left all hesitation and regret in the clear skies behind him, diving back into the storm with renewed determination.
Several days later.
The torrential rain eased, the overwhelming downpour becoming a sparse drizzle.
South of the Ser Wilderness, in Thorn Territory of Raymond Duchy.
Here, no rain fell, and no clouds obscured the sky.
The moonlight remained bright as ever, but to Viscount Iron Thorn's eyes, it seemed cold and melancholy. The two moons - one real, one illusory - hung in the sky like a pair of mocking eyes.
He stood on the balcony, his chin covered in stubble, eyes bloodshot.
Not resembling a refined noble viscount, but rather an incompetent middle-aged man who had lost his son.
Which was exactly the case.
Rage burned in Viscount Iron Thorn's chest like an inextinguishable flame. His son was dead, killed by the claws of dragons.
That proud, young Edmond who should have inherited everything and brought honor to their family was now just a pile of mangled flesh - no, not even that remained. No trace left.
The viscount's teeth ground audibly, veins bulging at his temples as if about to burst.
His breathing was heavy, each inhalation seeming to swallow all the anger in the air.
"Those beasts... those damned beasts!"
His voice was low and hoarse, like a curse squeezed from the depths of his throat.
He hated those dragons - their arrogance, their cruelty, their audacity in taking his son.
But what he hated even more was himself.
Regret coiled around his heart like a venomous snake. He regretted sending Edmond to collect taxes, regretted not assigning stronger guards, regretted failing to conduct thorough reconnaissance, regretted not discovering those monsters were actually dragons!
Those damned dragons.
Not content with killing Edmond, they had to attack Raymond Duchy's mining outpost, causing severe damage, stealing gems, and explicitly calling it "returning the favor."
This brought Viscount Iron Thorn significant trouble, drawing questioning and dissatisfaction from his family.
But he no longer cared.
His fingers dug deeply into his palms, nails breaking skin as blood seeped out, yet he felt no pain.
He remembered Edmond's careless expression before departure, his son's smiling promise to "make the monsters kneel while offering treasure."
Now his son would never return.
The moonlight remained bright, illuminating the viscount's face and the seething hatred and pain in his eyes.
"Blood for blood, tooth for tooth!"
"I'll skin and dismember every last one of you!"
He slowly raised his head, gaze sharp as a blade, looking toward the Ser Wilderness.
Soon after.
Viscount Iron Thorn donned the armor from his border command days and gathered the professional dragon hunting team he'd funded by selling assets. Their average life level exceeded 12, with members boasting glorious records of hunting adult dragons.
Their weapons, combat skills, magic, and armor were all specialized for dragon slaying.
To save time.
The viscount paid exorbitant fees to teleport the hunting team directly to the Ser Wilderness via magic arrays, marching day and night toward the Serpentine Earth Rift.
Three days later.
The hunting team arrived at their first destination in the drizzling rain.
—The site where the private army was destroyed.
The lead curse mage crouched, fingers brushing over charred ground marks.
"Dragon flame residue."
He said: "I need all traces related to dragons."
Other members spread out like hounds searching for clues.
They found nothing.
The wilderness sided with the dragons - the torrential rain had washed away battle traces.
Corpses had been cleaned up by the wilderness' beasts and magical creatures, leaving only shattered armor, broken weapons, and metal fragments.
As for dragon traces.
Only the scorched earth from dragon breath remained.
The curse mage pinched some ash, rubbing it between his fingers: "This dragon breath residue is nearly the worst medium for tracking."
Viscount Iron Thorn remained silent, his gaze dark.
Next, the hunting team reached the second key location.
—Needleleaf Valley.
The mining outpost attack wasn't trivial.
And noble private troops being slaughtered.
This was no ordinary incident.
Upon receiving news, the Lothrian Federation's wilderness garrison immediately mobilized, deciding a large-scale purge was needed.
Using magic and alchemical constructs, they began systematic cleansing centered on the Serpentine Earth Rift, eliminating powerful beasts and magical creatures.
When a powerful army gets serious.
Clan of Molten Iron's wilderness territories were discovered one by one, including Needleleaf Valley, identified as the young dragons' former core habitat.
As the incident's principal, Viscount Iron Thorn was informed.
Arriving at Needleleaf Valley, the viscount held final hopes, yet found only scorched earth.
Long before the attack began.
Fiery dragon breath had completely destroyed everything here.
"They were prepared - this was premeditated. They erased traces beforehand to prevent tracking."
The lead curse mage said gravely: "Young dragons are typically arrogant."
"I'm surprised they abandoned territory immediately after victory, let alone covered tracks so meticulously."
Pausing, he mused: "It must be that special hybrid among them - its nature differs from purebloods. Undoubtedly, it's their leader."
Viscount Iron Thorn slowly drew his sword, stabbing it into the earth as if to pierce through the ground and strike his fleeing enemies.
"Keep searching." His voice colder than steel: "Turn over the entire Ser Wilderness if we must."
The curse mage studied the viscount, saying quietly: "Conventional methods won't work against such cautious dragons. But as professionals, we have unconventional means."
"What is it?"
The viscount demanded urgently.
"Using blood of extreme hatred as a medium for tracking magic. While it can't pinpoint locations, it can indicate general direction."
The mage explained leisurely.
"Do it now."
The mage shook his head: "This is forbidden magic - it will cost you at least ten years of life. Are you willing to pay such price?"
The viscount hesitated silently.
Nearly fifty, he was middle-aged but not yet declining. As a high-level warrior at his peak, he could still sire heirs. He didn't necessarily need to pursue vengeance against the dragons for Edmond's death.
Yet after internal struggle.
Vengeance overpowered reason.
Expressionless, Viscount Iron Thorn declared: "If it means killing those dragons, if I can drink their blood and devour their flesh, this price means nothing."