novelraw Chapter 183: The Third Encounter with Brass-Silver Dragon Deborah, A New Riddle
Chapter 183: The Third Encounter with Brass-Silver Dragon Deborah, A New Riddle
Sunlight fell upon the scorched black earth.
With the death of the Bloodhoof Chieftain, the morale of the remaining minotaurs collapsed like an avalanche, as if drained of their last strength.
However.
Minotaurs were inherently stubborn and obstinate by nature. The vast majority continued to resist, swearing to fight to the death rather than surrender.
The Bloodhoof Clan had more than one or two powerful leaders. Units like Warlord Bloodfang Hodge and two-headed ogres were numerous, and there were even mighty shamans capable of battling the White Dragon.
If he could secure the allegiance of the Bloodhoof Clan and absorb the minotaur race,
the Clan of Molten Iron would directly double in size.
But Garoth knew well that unchecked expansion wasn't always beneficial. The iron dragon Sorog was currently in dragon sleep, and he himself would enter dormancy within a year or two.
Under such circumstances,
without strong suppression, an overly large minotaur population would remain a latent threat even if subdued, requiring constant vigilance against betrayal.Moreover.
Garoth had little desire to subdue creatures who stubbornly resisted and defied his will. He held no special regard for the unruly.
Those who opposed him could simply be killed.
Rather than wasting time taming them, it was better spent on self-improvement.
Garoth, bearing the bloodline of red dragons, had always possessed a decisive and ruthless heart.
"For Chieftain Balor! Blood for blood!"
A one-eyed warlord roared, waving the banner of the Bloodhoof tribe.
A crimson shadow descended from the sky.
Samantha's draconic claws smashed the warlord's head into the ground. When she lifted them, the horns and skull remained in her grasp, the headless corpse swaying before collapsing.
Whoosh!
She swept a contemptuous gaze around and breathed dragonfire.
The war banner ignited, burning into scattered fiery butterflies.
Gluttonous Ogre Karu tore off a chieftain's arm and stuffed it into his mouth, chewing while crushing another minotaur's skull with his other hand.
The claws of the dragon-blooded ogre shredded leather armor like paper, intestines dangling from his fangs as he shook them off.
A minotaur centurion tried to rally the remnants, but as he raised his horn, a massive icy shadow blotted out the sunlight.
—She had already slain the giant minotaur transformed by the Hundred Sacrifice Shaman.
Frost breath engulfed the centurion, freezing him into a lifelike ice sculpture before a centaur cavalryman shattered it into glittering shards.
Elvy's arrows fell like rain, precisely picking off sorcerers and shamans.
The Clan of Molten Iron began their harvest.
Only those who discarded their weapons and prostrated themselves in surrender were spared.
After taking over the Bloodhoof Clan's resource points, the Clan of Molten Iron would need slaves for mining and the most grueling labor. Minotaurs, while slightly less robust than ogres, possessed greater endurance and would make excellent slaves.
Garoth did not participate in the harvest.
Such matters could be left to his minions.
Now that the Bloodhoof Clan's defeat was irreversible, Garoth's intervention was unnecessary. It was better to let the monsters of the Molten Iron Legion vent their bloodlust through slaughter.
It was worth noting that the rampaging monsters did not include Rampage Bears.
Following Garoth's orders, they remained hidden in a cave within Dragon Valley, guarding the slumbering iron dragon Sorog as a precaution.
At the same time.
Garoth remained vigilant. He stood on the ground, his pupils narrowing to slits as he meticulously scanned the sky.
The brass dragon Deborah.
No, she should now be called the brass-silver dragon Deborah.
Garoth hadn't forgotten this detail.
Prudent by nature, he always prepared for the worst.
Since learning of the encounter between the brass-silver dragon and Samantha, Garoth had realized Deborah might be stalking him again.
The little female dragon seemed to have an obsession with him.
And damnable luck favored the metallic dragons, allowing her to stumble upon him twice. This third time, though not a direct encounter, she had crossed paths with Samantha.
"Where is she hiding?"
Garoth found no unusual traces in the sky and pondered.
Though there was no evidence, he felt the brass-silver dragon was almost certainly present on the battlefield. He had suspected she might ambush him during his fight with Balor—he certainly would have done so.
Yet she hadn't.
This made Garoth somewhat doubtful, but he still believed the brass-silver dragon was here.
He had simply underestimated the moral standards of metallic dragons.
Perhaps she found ambush tactics dishonorable.
At that moment.
A minotaur with bloodshot eyes, seemingly driven to madness, charged toward the red iron dragon.
"Blood debt, blood repayment!"
The minotaur growled, seething with rage.
Garoth, preoccupied with thoughts of the brass-silver dragon Deborah, flicked his tail impatiently as the minotaur approached.
Just before the tail struck.
The ordinary, unremarkable-looking minotaur suddenly shimmered with a flowing light, intricate runes swirling within. In an instant, it transformed into a draconic form over fifteen meters long from head to tail.
It was the brass-silver dragon Deborah.
She had changed significantly since their last meeting.
Her scales were now predominantly a rosy crimson, but thousands of silver rhomboid scales traced precise lines along her spine, wing bones, and tail. New silver horns spiraled upward, etched with gilded patterns resembling snow lotuses.
Her tail and wings now occupied a greater proportion of her body, lending her a sleek, elegant silhouette. The curves of her neck, spine, and tail were perfectly balanced, her elongated neck and streamlined body forming a crescent-like arc.
After awakening her silver dragon hybrid traits, Deborah's beauty had intensified, appearing graceful and exquisite by draconic standards.
Yet.
The elegant and beautiful brass-silver dragon was sent flying by the casual swipe of Garoth's tail.
Without restraint, she wailed exaggeratedly: "Ah—! That hurts! My bones are shattered! You vile, brutish red iron dragon! You must compensate me for my scale damage! Emotional distress! And flight stability impairment!"
Garoth was speechless.
He watched the beautiful brass-silver dragon tumbling through the air as if mortally wounded, the residual battle fury dissipating slightly at her familiar theatrics.
"Deborah, drop the act. Have you come to relive our last two encounters and be beaten until you flee weeping to your silver dragon elders again?"
"I'd be happy to claim another fortune from you."
He said.
Did she think him weakened after battle, presenting a perfect chance for revenge?
He was somewhat fatigued.
But far from vulnerable.
Garoth's gaze swept over the brass-silver dragon's nearly hundred-meter frame, showing no fear.
Meanwhile.
The brass-silver dragon gracefully flapped her wings, hovering in the smoke-laden dawn light, her crimson-and-silver scaled armor shimmering gloriously in the sun.
Facing Garoth's challenge, she didn't bristle but instead flashed a cunning smile.
"Answer my riddle, and I'll waive your compensation."
Then, lifting her slender neck like a poet about to recite on a ruined stage, she adopted an artificially lofty, cadenced tone blending the silver dragon's innate rhythm with the brass dragon's boastful flourish, and proclaimed clearly:
"It takes unquenched destruction as its spark, the throne untrodden as its nest;
You wake its heartbeat tearing earth apart, I chase its glory through the battle's test."
"It feasts on cowards' broken dreams, drinks deep of heroes' scars;
Tempers stars in dire extremes, plants new sprouts where death imparts."
Pausing slightly, she turned to Garoth and asked: "Tell me, hybrid dragon, what is it?"