Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

Chapter 156: Loyalty and Betrayal

Late at night, all was silent.

The monsters worked swiftly, having already erected basic tents.

Moonlight like water spilled over the low hill, casting a silver frost over the gradually forming mine pit below. The iron dragon Sorog pressed his claws against the rock wall, eyes slightly closed, carefully sensing the tremors deep within the vein.

Suddenly.

The Kora Giant Eagles circling the sky let out sharp screeches—an alarm signaling approaching intruders.

Groups of centaurs made no effort to conceal their presence, striding openly from the edge of the pine forest.

The iron dragon straightened his body, his gaze sweeping over the centaurs before he beat his wings and took to the skies. The clan guards who had just stationed here grabbed their weapons and followed closely behind.

"Halt, centaurs!"

"This territory belongs to the Clan of Molten Iron!"

The iron dragon circled overhead, his eyes lowering to survey the centaurs as he emitted a low, thunderous growl of warning.The centaurs were numerous, armored and spear-wielding, their numbers and quality surpassing the vanguard force Sorog had brought. At their forefront stood two towering, robust centaurs, their strides steady and brimming with dense life energy.

Even without probing, it was clear—both were warriors with life levels exceeding 10.

Centaurs were renowned for their bravery and combat prowess, ranking among the strongest of the humanoid intelligent races.

The young iron dragon wasn’t confident he could overpower them.

At that moment, Silvermane raised his head to gaze at the dragon, his tone respectful. "Noble dragon, might we have the honor of knowing your name?"

The centaur’s reaction took the iron dragon by surprise.

After a brief pause, he replied solemnly, "The Iron King, Sorog!"

Silvermane spoke again, "Respected Iron King, the gray magnetite ore is our clan’s property—though we had not yet begun mining it."

The iron dragon narrowed his eyes. "Are you saying I’ve encroached on your property and you’ve come to drive me out?"

Their submissive attitude might be a prelude to battle.

Sorog remained on guard.

Truthfully, when he first discovered the vein, he hadn’t thought much of it, assuming it was unclaimed land.

But upon closer inspection today, he had found fresh hoofprints and traces of exploration—proof that the centaurs spoke true. They had indeed discovered the gray magnetite first.

However.

Here, there was no rule of "first come, first served."

Resources belonged to the stronger.

The iron dragon issued another warning: "Lowly centaurs, I give you ten seconds to retreat. Otherwise, you will taste the wrath of a dragon."

Yet something unexpected happened.

"Honored Iron King, you misunderstand."

Under the dragon’s gaze, Silvermane knelt deeply, his forelegs sinking into the dirt, uncaring of the grime that clung to him. He assumed a posture of submission. The other centaurs followed suit, kneeling and bowing their heads in the highest gesture of respect in centaur society.

"The White Mane Clan offers you the mining rights to the gray magnetite."

After a pause, Silvermane added humbly yet eagerly, "Our centaur kin yearn for strength and glory. And you, mighty dragon, noble Iron King—you are the very embodiment of strength and glory. We wish to pledge our loyalty and follow beneath your wings."

Ironhoof’s movements stiffened slightly.

The burly warrior kept his head low, the beast-bone necklace woven into his mane clinking softly.

"We have brought our clan’s finest warriors for your inspection."

The iron dragon’s gaze swept over the silent centaur fighters, noting their muscular builds and battle-hardened resilience. He couldn’t help but feel tempted.

The Clan of Molten Iron had only just taken root in the borderlands. Now was the time when strength was needed most.

Every centaur was a born warrior—and a born cavalryman. The allegiance of an entire centaur clan would be invaluable.

Yet, driven by draconic pride, Sorog believed himself worthy of such loyalty. It seemed natural that centaurs would seek to serve him. Still, a thread of wariness remained.

Centaurs were valiant creatures. Instances of them submitting to dragons without first testing their mettle in battle were rare.

Had it been gnolls or kobolds—creatures known for clinging to draconic coattails—Sorog would have accepted their fealty without hesitation.

But with centaurs, he wasn’t so trusting.

"Pledge your loyalty?" The iron dragon’s voice was rough yet magnetic, carrying the timbre of grinding metal. He spoke deliberately, "I’ve heard centaurs are fearless warriors who bow to no one."

Silvermane tensed inwardly, sensing the dragon’s suspicion.

This surprised him.

In his experience, dragons were creatures of immense arrogance. When dealing with the White Dragons, the White Mane Clan had feigned submission first, only to ambush and grievously wound the dragon when it landed.

This iron dragon was more cautious than he’d anticipated.

Maintaining his humble posture, Silvermane replied, "Times have changed, Iron King. The chaos of the tundra spreads ever closer to the borderlands, and we..." He paused meaningfully, "...seek stronger protection."

His words were half-truths.

The war between giants and barbarians deep in the icy plains had brought turmoil, driving many creatures to migrate outward—disrupting the lives of borderland natives like the centaurs, who now sensed impending danger.

But rather than seeking a dragon’s protection...

These two centaurs would much prefer to forge weapons and armor from the young iron dragon’s hide to arm their clan.

Ironhoof lifted his head, his tone aggrieved. "The young among us crave battle and glory, but the elders in our clan would rather flee. We are divided."

"Now, we bring our finest warriors. Should you accept us, we will fight in your name. All we ask in return is the chance to earn honor and renown under your protection."

Hearing their words, the iron dragon’s eyes flickered as he studied them intently, his doubts gradually fading.

"You’ve made the right choice."

He declared, "To serve the mighty Iron King and the Clan of Molten Iron is your privilege."

Folding his wings, Sorog descended slowly, landing between the two groups. Behind him, his modest retinue of monstrous kin faced the centaur warriors in silent appraisal.

"Pine resin mead—a specialty of our clan. Please, partake."

Silvermane offered a wineskin, uncorking it to release a rich, sweet aroma into the air. Ironhoof stepped closer, grinning. "There’s no finer drink in all the borderlands."

The iron dragon had a fondness for sweets—and mead intrigued him. His eyes brightened momentarily.

But now was not the time for indulgence.

Sorog shook his head. "Our priority is mining the vein. More of my kin will arrive soon. Until then, we must focus on completing this outpost."

He addressed the centaurs directly: "If you seek protection, prove your worth."

"No battles yet. For now, you’ll transport stone and timber to help build the camp."

At this, Silvermane and Ironhoof exchanged a subtle glance.

The pine resin mead was laced with venom meant to weaken the dragon. But their target showed no interest in drinking it. Worse, his mention of reinforcements meant they couldn’t afford to delay any longer.

Though their poisoned gambit had failed, their preparations were otherwise complete.

"What are you waiting for? Get to work."

The iron dragon urged impatiently.

"Apologies. We’re... adjusting to our new roles," Silvermane murmured.

Before he could finish, Ironhoof struck.

His powerful forelegs shattered the ground as he yanked a battle-spear from his saddlebag. Wreathed in surging magical energy, the spearhead shot like lightning toward the dragon’s throat.

Silvermane’s move was more insidious.

His silver-white mane bristled suddenly, releasing a cloud of paralyzing powder that drifted toward the dragon’s face. Simultaneously, a heavy steel greatsword spun from his hip, its edge aimed at the joint where the dragon’s right wing met his torso.