Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

Chapter 160: Celestial Creatures

The draconic instinct within the iron dragon urged him to kill the centaur leader in a fit of rage, but having spent considerable time alongside Garoth, he had learned restraint.

He had already demonstrated the might of dragonkind.

A living centaur leader held more value than a dead one.

Silvermane was momentarily stunned before bowing his head deeply in overwhelming gratitude.

"Thank you for your mercy."

The iron dragon glanced at Garoth, lifting his chin slightly in silent pride over his growth and wisdom.

Garoth smiled warmly, offering generous praise: "My dear brother, I expected you might execute him in anger. Your progress is undeniable—you've truly surpassed my expectations."

The iron dragon replied, "We share similar blood flowing through our veins. This is hardly worth mentioning."

He feigned composure, attempting to mask his emotions, though the unconscious twitching of his raised tail betrayed his delight.

Under the velvet night sky, the brothers Ignas interrogated Silvermane about the White Mane Clan's current situation.Silvermane withheld nothing.

He provided a thorough account of the clan's status.

Nearly all elite centaurs from both the vanguard and hunting teams were present here. Only those temporarily unfit for combat due to illness or other reasons remained at the clan's base—though aside from these two teams, the main stronghold still had a defensive guard unit.

Silvermane believed that even if the White Mane Clan avoided becoming dragonkin vassals, losing both elite teams would leave them too weakened to survive in the borderlands.

Given this reality...

Committing fully to serving dragonkind seemed the only viable path.

The iron dragon's final act of mercy allowed Silvermane to recognize that these young dragons prioritized practical benefits over emotional impulses—unlike the savage wyrms of legend driven solely by bloodlust.

This also meant the White Mane Clan wouldn't face indiscriminate slaughter upon submission.

Additionally...

During his initial deception of the iron dragon, Silvermane had spoken partial truths.

The chaos spreading from the northern ice plains war had destabilized the borderlands, making allegiance to a powerful dragon a sensible choice amidst the turmoil.

"Lead the way," Garoth commanded succinctly.

He disliked delays.

Having encountered this situation with the White Mane Clan, he intended to resolve it immediately.

The captured ogres and werewolves—vassals of Molten Iron—remained behind to guard the disarmed centaur warriors stripped of their armor and weapons, supervised by both the iron dragon and other vassals.

These warriors couldn't yet be fully trusted.

While temporarily subdued by Garoth's overwhelming power, resentment still simmered beneath their compliance.

Only by conquering their clan and incorporating their blood-bound families—wives and children—into the Molten Iron Clan could they become reliable.

Garoth prepared to depart for the centaur settlement with only the severely wounded Silvermane.

No tyrant, he would attempt peaceful negotiation before resorting to violence—though should talks fail, he wouldn't hesitate to demonstrate a battle dragon's combat mastery.

However...

Just as Garoth moved to lift Silvermane for flight, his gaze suddenly shifted skyward.

At the horizon's edge, a snow-white figure pierced through the clouds.

A winged female centaur descended, moonlight gilding her feathers with radiant brilliance that made each plume gleam distinctively.

"Is this your Elvy?" Garoth asked the centaur leader.

"Yes, that's her," Silvermane whispered. "She's the strongest warrior of our younger generation."

A rare elf hybrid with pegasus ancestry—those wings marked celestial lineage almost as uncommon as half-dragon blood... The red iron dragon's eyes narrowed as he observed the approaching hybrid.

Elvy wore light armor, her frame more slender than typical centaurs.

An oversized longbow crossed her back while she gripped a massive silver greatsword. With graceful wingbeats and midair hoofsteps, she descended toward them.

Unlike Silvermane and Ironhoof...

Elvy had never intended direct confrontation with the young iron dragon.

Sensing something unnatural about his appearance, she'd planned to track him first—determining his origins before acting.

But Ironhoof and Silvermane's impatience for leadership had forced premature action, unveiling the terrifying presence behind the iron dragon.

Arriving just in time to witness Garoth's devastating defeat of the centaurs and Silvermane's surrender, Elvy initially considered retreating to warn the clan.

Yet fearing detection, she'd hidden within the clouds, motionless.

Only when seeing the red iron dragon preparing to immediately drag Silvermane to their settlement—realizing she couldn't outpace him—did she emerge.

Should Garoth reach the clan first...

Elvy knew her people's defensive nature would inevitably spark bloodshed.

"Noble dragonkind," the centaur landed before Garoth, bowing deeply. "As captain of the White Mane guards, I pledge loyalty and will accompany you to ensure my clan's proper reverence."

Pausing, she maintained her humble posture. "But in centaur tradition, surrender without battle brings great shame. I beg the honor of a challenge."

Silvermane bit back commentary, wisely avoiding presumption under the iron dragon's gaze.

Garoth studied the hybrid's elven and pegasus traits—particularly the latter.

Pegasi were celestial beings rarely seen in the Material Plane, typically companioning powerful entities like empyreans. This ancestral awakening interested him more than her elven blood.

Seconds stretched silently...

Finally, he declared: "Very well, challenger."

Opposite him, Elvy raised her head, revealing exquisite features.

"Please be warned—I begin."

Her wings suddenly blazed with cyan-white radiance as all four hooves left the ground.

Rather than charging directly, her left hand traced intricate sigils midair before sweeping them across her blade.

Wind Edge Enchantment!

The sword erupted with emerald gusts, humming like plucked strings with each motion.

Elvy was a spellblade.

This rare hybrid class—mastering both magic and martial arts—demanded exceptional talent, making its practitioners rarer and more formidable than conventional warriors.

Spellblades wielded one-handed weapons, casting spells through intricate gestures rather than incantations.

"An uncommon profession... This hybrid may prove interesting," Garoth mused internally, yielding first strike.

In an instant, the centaur dove forward, still weaving spells with her free hand.

Her greatsword flashed toward Garoth's eyes with blinding speed.

The dragon's massive claw swung to intercept with crushing force—

CRACK!

The hybrid's form shattered instantly—not into flesh, but dispersing as wind.

Her true self materialized behind Garoth's right flank, vibrating blade aimed at his hind leg joint.

But before contact...

Shadows pooled beneath Elvy as wind pressure screamed from above.