novelraw Chapter 157: Congratulations on Defeating the Iron King
Chapter 157: Congratulations on Defeating the Iron King
"For the glory of the White Mane Clan!"
Battle cries shattered the night's silence as the two chieftains launched their assault. Every centaur warrior drew their weapons, charging toward the iron dragon and its minions. Gleaming spears flickered coldly under the moonlight.
"Filthy vermin, we'll tear you apart!"
The warriors of the Molten Iron Clan froze momentarily before roaring in fury, meeting the charge head-on.
The most precarious situation belonged to the iron dragon simultaneously facing attacks from both centaur chieftains.
Sorog's pupils contracted sharply into thin slits.
Damn it! My arrogance blinded me to their deception. Garoth would've seen through these centaurs' tricks immediately.
At the critical moment,
The iron dragon rolled aside clumsily.
Silvermane's blade traced a chilling arc, slicing through the dragon's wing membrane, leaving a gruesome wound. Simultaneously, Ironhoof's spear pierced the dragon's shoulder, penetrating its hardened scales to create a bone-deep gash.Both centaur chieftains proved formidable.
Their initial ambush was merely the opening move—they pressed their advantage relentlessly, unleashing a torrent of savage attacks.
Spears darted like lightning, targeting the dragon's joints, eyes, wings, and throat with precision. Whenever the iron dragon dodged or blocked,
Silvermane's massive sword came crashing down with overwhelming force, leaving deep gashes with every strike.
The dragon's minions clashed with other centaurs, but being non-combatants, their formation shattered immediately under the centaurs' charge. Instead of aiding their master, elite centaur warriors joined the assault on the iron dragon, hurling hooked chains and hunting nets to restrict its flight while coordinating with the two chieftains.
The most troublesome opponents were the centaur marksmen.
Their arrows could pierce dragon scales, embedding deep into flesh with uncanny accuracy. The poison-tipped shafts caused significant trouble as their numbing venom spread through the dragon's bloodstream.
Sorog could feel at least five arrows lodged in his muscles.
"Young dragon, fall here! You'll become my trophy!"
Ironhoof bellowed with laughter.
The four-meter-tall chieftain moved with unnatural agility for his size, every spear thrust aimed precisely at the dragon's eyes or wing membranes.
The sting of betrayal and mounting pain
threatened to overwhelm the iron dragon's reason, tempting it to slaughter both centaurs regardless of consequences.
"Patience, my brother. Remember—time favors us."
Garoth's words surfaced in its mind.
"Calm, Sorog! You're no mindless beast! You're a noble, intelligent dragon!"
Taking deep breaths, the iron dragon suppressed its rising fury.
"I can't continue like this. One-on-one, I could handle either chieftain despite their higher life level. But surrounded like this..."
Hardened Body!
Activating his quasi-spell skill, the dragon's form shimmered with dark radiance as it reared upright.
Clang!
The spear pierced his chest armor but stopped after sinking an inch into flesh. His claws met the descending greatsword in a shower of sparks while arrows dented his protective glow.
Enduring the combined assault bought precious seconds to breathe.
The dragon's chest expanded—inhaling deeply before exhaling a torrent of dazzling Electric Fire Breath that forced the chieftains to scatter.
Several elite centaurs caught in the blast screamed as their flesh peeled away, collapsing in writhing agony. The restraining chains and nets snapped under the dragon's thrashing.
"Maybe I can win this."
Gaining momentary advantage, the dragon thought instinctively: "My vitality surpasses theirs. I can endure far more damage, while my attacks can cripple them instantly. The outcome remains uncertain."
Old habits resurfaced—
but the thought vanished quickly.
Memories of his humiliating capture by ogres and Garoth's teachings reminded him this wasn't the time for stubbornness.
After repelling the surrounding centaurs, the iron dragon beat its wings and ascended without hesitation.
Whoosh!
A spear shrieked past his flank, followed by a hail of arrows—all dodged as he climbed higher.
"Cowardly lizard!"
Silvermane howled skyward, taunting: "Leave your dragon pride in the dirt as you flee with your tail between your legs!"
The dragon paused momentarily before continuing its ascent.
Flee?
No.
As Garoth would say—this was a strategic withdrawal.
Only when safely beyond the centaurs' range did the dragon stop to circle above, gazing down at the tiny figures.
Silvermane and Ironhoof continued shouting insults,
remembering how white dragons would recklessly reengage when provoked—a trait the White Mane Clan had exploited to near-fatal results before.
But their taunts failed.
The iron dragon simply watched coldly from above, refusing to descend.
"A dragon's innate nature often leads to early demise," the dragon stated icily. "But your kind's prejudice toward dragons will be your undoing."
With that final threat, the dragon abandoned its camp and minions, vanishing into the night.
"A shame we couldn't kill it."
"Our clan lacks sorcerers. Driving off dragons is easy, but slaying them requires more."
Ironhoof and Silvermane watched the young dragon disappear before dismissing its warning.
They understood dragons never forgot grudges.
But centaurs were nomadic by nature—by the time this dragon matured for vengeance, they'd be long gone.
"Expelling the iron dragon and reclaiming the gray magnetite mines resolves this matter."
The two chieftains locked eyes. "Now the chieftain position will be decided between us."
Tension crackled between them before they turned toward the captured monsters.
"Slaughter them all. Their stench offends me." Ironhoof growled.
"The clan needs slaves for mining. Keep them alive." Silvermane countered.
"The mines must be worked. But who should oversee them?" Ironhoof challenged.
Silvermane smiled, twirling his greatsword. "I believe that should be me—though you likely disagree."
Ironhoof hefted a fresh spear. "Then we settle this traditionally."
As centaurs cleared a space under the moonlight,
the two chieftains stood a hundred meters apart—
then charged.
The exiled young iron dragon was already forgotten.