novelraw Chapter 217: You Harmed a Scale of Mine, Now You Want to Woo My Whole Family
Chapter 217: You Harmed a Scale of Mine, Now You Want to Woo My Whole Family
"Harm one of my scales, and I'll make your whole family pay."
"No bodies."
Garoth's gaze swept over the giant construct wreckage, finding no traces of any flesh-and-blood remains.
"Not quite logical."
"Hit directly by my Destruction Breath, how could this goblin alchemist possibly survive? And where did his body go?"
The red iron dragon lightly flicked his tail, pondering internally.
The Grand Artificer was indeed formidable, but this couldn't change the fact that he was an alchemist—physically fragile and utterly defenseless against Garoth without golem protection.
"I saw it clearly—he was completely engulfed by my Destruction Breath."
"And this alchemical giant construct... I almost completely dismantled it, yet found no traces of a cockpit."
The final alchemical giant that reconstructed itself from the ruins and stood up didn't seem to be the mecha golem most commonly used by goblins, but rather an intelligent golem capable of unmanned operation."The situation with the Gold Fang Tribe's leader is rather unusual."
Garoth looked toward the battlefield where the scales of victory had completely tilted: "No matter. After finishing this battle, we'll march straight into the Gold Fang headquarters in the southeastern Black Iron Plains. Whatever state the goblin leader is in won't affect the outcome."
The Gold Fang Tribe was strong.
Or rather, none of the four major tribes in the convergence lands were weak.
Though called tribes, this was because in barren regions, systems remained relatively backward with many primitive and ignorant remnants within the groups. But in terms of pure combat power, their overall standards actually rivaled small city-states.
However, no matter how they were before.
With the alchemical legion annihilated, the Gold Fang Tribe would become history.
Garoth didn't participate in the subsequent cleanup operations. He circled high in the sky, looking down at the scorched earth and raging battles below. His sky-blocking dragon wings spread, giving his followers nearly endless morale.
"Kill—!"
The ogres swung their wolf tooth clubs covered in flesh and blood fragments, smashing goblins attempting to flee or put up resistance—along with their flimsy armor—into flattened meat patties like whack-a-mole. Manic laughter intertwined with the sound of cracking bones.
Bipedal wyverns circled at low altitude, pouring down acid like water, creating smoking corrosion zones among the fleeing goblin soldiers.
Giant wolves emitted bloodthirsty howls, transforming into deathly gray shadows weaving and leaping through the scattered enemy ranks. Each swing of their claw-blades sent up warm sprays of blood rain, precisely cutting goblin throats or tearing open their chests.
........
The true dragons moved like walking natural disasters, plowing through the battlefield edges, completely erasing any large groups of goblins attempting to regroup or escape.
This was completely one-sided slaughter.
The steel jungle had become a grinder of flesh. The previously mighty and powerful alchemical golems had now become twisted scrap metal scattered everywhere, burned by flames, corroded by acid, and trampled by tremendous force.
The goblins' wails, pleas for mercy, and curses rose and fell.
But soon fell silent amidst the whistling of weapons and tearing of flesh.
Even sunlight seemed stained by the thick scent of blood. The wind swept up smoke and ashes, carrying the intense smells of rust, scorching, and death.
The Molten Iron Tribe warriors cleaned up the final resistance.
Soon, all those putting up stubborn resistance were exterminated, leaving only those who had discarded weapons and prostrated themselves in surrender.
The earth-shaking roars gradually subsided, replaced by victorious howls and heavy panting. As the fighting ceased, exhaustion washed over every monster like tidal waves, yet their eyes burned with fanatical light.
They won! The Molten Iron Tribe had taken the most crucial step toward becoming rulers of the convergence lands!
The era of the Molten Iron Tribe would begin amidst smoke and bloodshed!
Garoth noticed the exhilarated warriors.
Now was the perfect time to boost tribal cohesion.
"Where dragon wings reach—"
The red iron dragon spoke, his low and commanding voice rolling like thunder across the entire battlefield: "—all becomes royal domain!"
Such arrogant and flamboyant declarations weren't something Garoth would usually make, but here there were no outsiders—only his own people. A little boast to satisfy his small vanity couldn't hurt.
Of course, the most important thing was making the Molten Iron Tribe more united and loyal.
Everything else was secondary.
After a moment of stunned silence.
Roar—!!!
Dragon cries, beast roars, centaur whinnies, wyvern shrieks... all sounds converged into a torrent declaring victory and power, shooting straight into the sky.
"Rest where you stand. The war isn't completely over yet—we're still one step away from total victory."
With the command issued, the monsters who had fought through battle began resting on site.
Injured? Anything short of losing limbs was minor—just pack with mud to stop bleeding, then receive a healing spell from a sorceress shaman, and they'd be lively again.
Hungry?
The ground was covered with food.
Goblins—delicious!
...The Molten Iron Tribe warriors had minimal logistical needs.
Meanwhile, in the southwest, Dragon Valley.
A group of serpentfolk slowly emerged from the horizon, gradually approaching Dragon Valley.
They had giant snake-like lower bodies and humanoid torsos. The males had powerful, muscular builds with bulging muscles, blue faces and fierce fangs appearing vicious and menacing. The females, however, were stunningly beautiful and enchanting, with exquisite features almost second only to elves.
"This is the place, the dragon's habitat."
"The Molten Iron Tribe's dragon is leading monsters to battle the Gold Fang goblins."
"We signed magic contracts with the goblins—can't move against them. But the Molten Iron Tribe's rear is vulnerable—this is our perfect opportunity."
The serpentfolk leader hissed, flicking his tongue.
The Venomtail Tribe serpentfolk's territory mainly lay in the northeastern convergence lands, adjacent to the Gold Fang Tribe.
The red iron dragon spoke, his low and authoritative voice rolling like thunder across the entire battlefield: "—all becomes royal domain!"
The alchemical legion's mobilization couldn't be hidden from them.
The serpentfolk quickly understood what was happening.
They believed the Molten Iron Tribe was no match for the Gold Fang Tribe, and though they had non-aggression pacts with the Gold Fang Tribe, they had none with the Molten Iron Tribe.
Thus.
The serpentfolk tribe decided immediately to raid the Molten Iron Tribe's rear while they were fully engaged with the Gold Fang Tribe, seizing the fruits of victory.
Now, the Venomtail Tribe's elites had arrived at Dragon Valley.
The serpentfolk twisted their waists, silently and slowly approaching.
When they came within a certain distance of Dragon Valley, an ear-splitting roar suddenly erupted from the easily defensible entrance passage.
Roar—!
A white shadow leaped out.
The brutal subtype watched intently, its gaze precisely fixed on the serpentfolk. Its limbs slightly crouched, muscles bulging beneath its fur, claws already tearing at the ground, ready to pounce at any moment.
The powerful brutal white tiger startled the serpentfolk.
Immediately after, wind swept past as another figure shot into the sky, its dragon scales shimmering with interwoven copper and silver hues under sunlight, gleaming brilliantly.
The brass dragon Deborah elegantly folded her wings, landing atop a cliffside.
"Hey, serpentfolk."
"Riddle time."
The brass-silver dragon slightly raised her head, looking down at the serpentfolk, speaking in a light, humorous tone: "Harm one of my scales, and I'll make your whole family pay. The most united avengers—guess who?"
Hearing this, the serpentfolk fell silent.
"Metal Dragons."
A serpentfolk sorcerer leader said.
"Correct! As reward, I'll allow you to turn back the way you came."
The brass-silver dragon said with a laugh.
The serpentfolk leader said nothing, hurriedly leading his forces away from Dragon Valley.
As if what lay ahead wasn't their objective, but some kind of forbidden death zone.
On the return journey, a young warrior asked the experienced leader unwillingly: "We stealthily traveled all this way, spending so much time—why retreat just like that?"
The old serpentfolk shaman's eyes narrowed to slits.
They had giant snake-like lower bodies and humanoid torsos. The males had powerful, muscular builds with bulging muscles, blue faces and fierce fangs appearing vicious and ferocious. The females, however, were stunningly beautiful and enchanting, with exquisite features almost second only to elves.
As he spoke, the shaman also felt somewhat puzzled.
Intelligence indicated this territory's ruler was a background-less evil dragon, so why did a mixed-blood metal dragon appear here?
Not dwelling on unanswerable questions, the serpentfolk retreated the way they came, though their hearts remained unsettled.
"Serpentfolk? Probably Venomtail Tribe. Understood."
Garoth put away the message stone. After a brief communication with the brass-silver dragon, he learned what happened at Dragon Valley.
He wasn't particularly surprised.
After all, the convergence lands weren't single-territory domains. Given the scale of war between Molten Iron and Gold Fang Tribes, attracting other tribes' attention was completely normal, as were attempts by other tribes to profit from chaos.
Placing the powerful brutal tiger and brass-silver dragon in Dragon Valley—
The brutal tiger was secondary; the main purpose was using the brass-silver dragon's identity for borrowed authority. Garoth didn't need the brass-silver dragon to actually fight for him—just showing her face was enough.
"After completely finishing the war with Gold Fang Tribe, reward her with an afternoon of riddle time."
Garoth calculated internally—the brass-silver dragon's favorability needed further boosting.
As the Molten Iron Tribe gradually grew, they could acquire more resources on one hand, but on the other, continuing to hide and endure indefinitely became unrealistic—they would eventually appear in the adult silver dragon's sight.
Not necessarily needing the adult silver dragon's support,
But at minimum, they needed to avoid attracting its malice.
Garoth didn't become arrogant or lose touch with reality because of one or two victories. He clearly understood matters concerning adult dragons required cautious handling.
—All scales... except white dragons.
After resting most of the day.
The resilient Molten Iron warriors marched again, advancing toward the Black Iron Plains.
This time it was no longer multi-front warfare, but like a sharp blade tearing through all obstacles, advancing unimpeded straight to the Black Iron Plains, arriving at the Gold Fang Tribe's main stronghold.