novelraw Chapter 292: Garros: Dad? I’m here to kill you!
Chapter 292: Garros: Dad? I’m here to kill you!
"Ever since the Federation's suppressive forces gradually weakened, those powerful monsters lurking deep in the wilderness have been emerging one after another. Even we dragons must not let our guard down there."
He paused slightly.
Sniffing the air for the unique aura of the red dragon bloodline that clung to Garoth, Alberto seemed to recall some important intelligence and added, "From what I've learned through my own channels, there are more than just one powerful dragon wreaking havoc across the wilderness now."
"One is an elderly plague dragon that awakened from ancient slumber, crawled out of its Dragon Nest, and spreads death and disease wherever it goes."
"Another is a ferocious red dragon known as the Wing of the Burning Mountain, also called Madfire Bloodflame, whose arrogance knows no bounds—he kills other dragons on a whim. He's powerful enough that I would steer clear of him myself."
"A group of Blue Dragons from the Boiling Sea have also arrived; they move as one and are recruiting followers deep in the wilderness, rapidly expanding their territory."
...........
"Not only that." Alberto's tone took on a gravity as he continued, "Our old enemies—the giants—are also starting to show themselves in the wilderness' shadows, and those powerful magical beasts and savage monsters... I estimate they'll become more active in the future. The wilderness will only grow more dangerous."
In a chaotic era, the land becomes both fertile ground for ambitious forces to contend for supremacy and a breeding bed where terrifying monsters break their restraints and multiply at will.
The vast Ser Wilderness, with its naturally abundant resources, has always been a natural habitat for many powerful beings.Only that, over the past centuries, under the shadow of the Federation, those wilderness overlords had wisely sheathed their sharp claws, suppressing their instinctive roars and lying low in the shadows, carefully avoiding the Federation’s immovable edge.
However.
Once the predators of the wilderness, with their beastly instincts and razor-sharp senses, clearly perceived that the suppression-lock the Federation had enforced over this unclaimed land was quietly loosening,
the bloodline-borne, bloodthirsty and greedy edges they had held back would gradually become restless. Like an undercurrent released from thawing glaciers, it would begin to surface beneath the wilderness’ calm.
The situation was as plain as a cloudless searing sun.
It would not take long before the Ser Wilderness—a land soaked with countless bloods and deaths—turned into a place where risk and opportunity interwove, where blood and wealth coexisted.
Even someone as formidable as Garoth understood this deeply.
If he wanted to seize a share of the coming storm, to obtain sufficient profit and a foothold, he had to be patient. He must wait for his slumber to pass and for himself to enter a far stronger youth phase, only then would he have the strength and confidence to truly stand and hold ground on this law-of-the-jungle stage.
For now, he could only observe from the margins.
Meanwhile.
Even as Alberto's metallic-toned words fell, the red iron dragon remained silent.
The wilderness was about to surge—this he had long anticipated. That was not the true reason his thoughts churned.
What truly rendered Garoth silent and deep in thought was the red dragon casually mentioned by Alberto.
Wing of the Burning Mountain, Madfire Bloodflame—his true name was Gorthax.
He was Garoth's biological father, a father Garoth had never met in person, known only through terse descriptions from other dragons.
Although Garoth had never seen him, just the brief introduction once given by the Silver Dragon Edri painted a vivid picture in his mind:
an utterly insane, chaotic, destruction-loving evil dragon who would never spare kinly affection—whose image was now sharply sketched in Garoth's thoughts.
"Gorthax... I didn't expect him to return to the Ser Wilderness at a time when it's about to erupt like a volcano."
The red iron dragon's gaze sharpened and narrowed; his thoughts spun.
If he were to encounter Gorthax here and now, Garoth knew in his gut that with his current life level and accumulated strength, he would not stand a chance against that middle-aged, fearsomely renowned Wing of the Burning Mountain.
More crucially,
facing a twisted, cruel, and utterly unpredictable chaos dragon—one whose behavior could not be gauged by any normal standard—even if that dragon was his own blood father, Garoth could not summon the thought of approaching or acknowledging him.
That would be tantamount to placing himself deliberately in danger.
As the saying goes—one king would not face another king; best to avoid the other's blade first.
Still.
The Ser Wilderness was vast and topographically diverse—mountains, rifts, sand seas, dense forests made up its expanse.
Given Gorthax's capricious, lawless style of action, as long as Garoth remained vigilant, planned his routes, and deliberately avoided areas where the mad dragon might be active,
unless the goddess of misfortune poured all malice upon him, the chance of directly bumping into the mad dragon was minuscule.
Yet, the world is unpredictable.
If the two truly met and stood opposed,
because there existed no warmth or familial bond between them—only a primal repulsion and wariness sourced from bloodline—when the moment to decide life and death arrived, Garoth would feel no hesitation or pity.
Patricide with a smile, killing the father without regret.
Such scenes were no rarity among evil dragons.
"Alberto."
Garoth's low voice sounded. "That ‘Madfire Bloodflame’ Gorthax you mentioned—besides his name and reputation, do you have more detailed, concrete intelligence?"
"He is a middle-aged red dragon. His real name is Gorthax."
Alberto's expression turned grave, as if facing a great enemy, his eyes flashing with dread of that infamous name.
"His precise life level can't be confirmed yet, but it's probably level nineteen."
"One of his most notorious deeds in the wilderness was successfully breaking out and escaping from a large-scale hunt organized by the Federation."
"His temperament is extremely brutal and violent—he is perhaps the purest exemplar of red dragon savagery, the ultimate archetype of an evil dragon."
He paused, then studied Garoth closely.
"Why do you ask about him all of a sudden?"
There was obvious puzzlement in Alberto's voice. "Have you met Gorthax before? Or did you hear of his infamy beforehand?"
Garoth's faceplate was rigid and heavy, betraying no clear emotional ripple.
He replied, "I was merely curious because of the shared bloodline."
Alberto did not perceive the complex, strange nuance hiding within the red iron dragon's words.
He blinked as if realizing and said with a touch of feeling, "I see. Your composed, weighty demeanor almost made me forget that half of your blood is the red dragon's burning, restless fire."
"I can hardly detect any of the red dragon's ferocity and madness in you."
He probed further: "Is that because the evil dragon blood had no influence on your will? Or because, being mixed-blood, the iron dragon half you inherited is stronger and suppresses and neutralizes the red dragon’s chaotic nature?"
Garoth's expression did not change. "To wield power with reason is one of my steadfast principles."
Then,
he gathered his emotions and returned his attention to the matters at hand, continuing to discuss with the Gold Dragon Alberto the other important surges and undercurrents shaping the Ser Wilderness.
Aside from the maddened red dragon that cast an ominous shadow,
the sizable Blue Dragon group Alberto mentioned also put Garoth on high alert.
He had once spoken with those few young dragons who had fled from afar and knew that they had escaped from a strictly hierarchical Blue Dragon community.
Moreover,
the lair they despised and resisted was located in the Boiling Sea to the west of the Ser Wilderness.
"Blue Dragon group, huh." Alberto murmured. "I heard they might be called the Dominic family."
When Alberto clearly spoke that name, Garoth's mind trembled.
No coincidence at all.
The Dominic family was precisely the family the Blue Dragon Heriam and the others had fled from.
If this Blue Dragon family, currently expanding in the central wilderness, caught even a whiff that the Ignas Dragon Cluster had sheltered the runaways,
a fierce confrontation between the two sides would likely be unavoidable.
Garoth quickly stifled that anxiety.
It was not a matter for immediate concern.
He turned his scrutinizing gaze to Alberto and asked, "Alberto, where did you get these reports about Gorthax, the Dominic family, and the shifting balance in the wilderness?"
Alberto proudly lifted his head and straightened his broad chest before the red iron dragon.
"Garoth, do you think my gleaming golden scales are just for show? My network of contacts is far wider than evil dragons can imagine."
At last he had found a realm in which he could preen and demonstrably display his superiority before Garoth.
Alberto felt the long-missed pride and ease that belonged to Gold Dragons.
He continued with a tone of recollection, "I'll give you a direct example."
"My biological parents once thought me too rebellious, straying from traditional Gold Dragon ways."
"To guide me back to the path they favored and expose me to orthodox values and society, they sent me in my juvenile stage to the prosperous and powerful Kingdom of Rybos, to be educated in their royal aristocratic academy."
"There, I met many broad-minded, discerning human friends, including several princes and distinguished heirs. With their encouragement and support, I became more certain of the different path I chose!"
Garoth was momentarily speechless.
That background was indeed beyond his imagination.
But if he were Alberto's traditionalist Gold Dragon parents, facing such a rebellious offspring would have been quite vexing.
After a while of further talk about other potential threats and opportunities in the wilderness, Alberto slowly regulated his breathing, still somewhat quick from intense exertion.
He collected his earlier casualness, turned serious, and said to the red iron dragon solemnly:
"Garoth, my territory in the wilderness has already taken shape and will only grow stronger. You should hurry. I look forward to the day we fight side by side across this vast wilderness!"
His voice left no hint of hesitation.
Gold Dragon Alberto beat his wings, darted upward, and streaked into the heavy sky, eventually vanishing, leaving only lingering air disturbances.
Garoth silently watched the direction Alberto disappeared into and inhaled deeply.
The wilderness' evening air, metallic and sharp with dust, filled his lungs.
He suddenly felt a slight itch beneath his scales and glanced at the heavy metallic sheen on his armor-like scales, thinking inwardly: it's time to let the serpentfolk Sword Saint give me a proper polish.
With that, he beat his wings and flew toward the Fertile Plains.
Full and peaceful days slipped by like sand through his claws, leaving no trace.
In the blink of an eye, a month passed.
By now, the Molten Iron Tribe had prepared for war; everything was ready.
An army composed of the tribe's elite warriors had assembled, like a blade forged and sharpened, waiting only for their Dragon Lord to give the command. They would then fly like arrows into the Ser Wilderness and strike first at the wilderness border.
At the same time,
deep within the fourth spatial layer of Scorchsteel Fortress, the red iron dragon quietly stared at an object clenched in his claws.
"What an exquisitely marvelous creation... Truly the pinnacle jewel of alchemical industry. Only with kingdom-level, unparalleled industrial might could such a crystal be made."
Within Garoth's giant claw—capable of crushing rock—lay a colorless crystal roughly the size of a human head, as clear and pure as frozen air.
It lay tranquilly, and as its angle shifted slightly, inner streams of liquid-like radiance seemed to flow slowly, refracting colors of the surroundings.
It displayed an astonishingly perfect cubic structure: every corner, every straight edge precise as if measured and cut by the most meticulous godly hand. To the naked eye, not a single flaw or error could be found; it seemed a perfect union of geometry and energy.
—Black oil crystal.
At Garoth's instruction and arrangement, the Gem Merchant Consortium affiliated with the Ignas Dragon Cluster had successfully received this crucial gift secretly sent by Princess Elina at a designated location.
This terrifyingly energetic crystal had been carefully placed into a special container and floated down the ever-flowing Estonian Great River.
Escorted under disguise by capable guards, it reached Garoth's Scorchsteel Fortress safe and sound and was solemnly placed in his claw.
One might hardly imagine:
the raw black oil—thick as ink, murky like melted asphalt, reeking with a pungent scent—after undergoing the Kingdom-level alchemical workshops' countless horrifically complex processes of refining, purifying, compressing, and solidifying, would finally condense into an essential core of such unbelievable clarity and purity, resembling the world's finest flawless natural gem and exuding an extraordinary beauty.
However, when Garoth parted his jaws, preparing to swallow it,
an interesting phenomenon occurred.
The dragon's instinctive possessiveness toward treasures did not flare against this item at all.
Perhaps because the black oil crystal was a product of modern alchemical industry rather than a traditional hoard of gold and jewels, the dragons' ancient avarice for classic treasures was not triggered.
That meant something extremely important:
if the stockpile of black oil crystals was large enough, Garoth could swallow them without mental resistance, letting them serve as pure fuel to propel his life level leaps.
He hesitated briefly, then pulled the black oil crystal away from his mouth.
"I'll swallow this batch together just before entering my next slumber and evolution to maximize its effect."
Garoth calmly calculated within.
His evolution would not manifest from nothing; it demanded energy. Life level ascension required energy supply, and the more rare items dragons swallowed at once before slumber, the higher the likelihood of life level advancement.
After stowing the crystal,
the red iron dragon rose and stepped out.
It was midday; the blazing sun poured down, illuminating the grand Scorchsteel Fortress so that steel seemed to burn—true to its name.
Garoth walked to the broad watchtower.
His deep gaze pierced the fortress' shadow, fixed on the vast southern wilderness stretching to the horizon.
In this seemingly ordinary, peaceful midday moment, the heavy-scaled dragon raised his head slightly and issued commands through the Bloodline Connection.
"Sorog. Samantha."
"The time has come to reclaim the territories we once lost."
"Send the orders—march into the Ser Wilderness. The first target of the initial strike: lock on the Serpentine Earth Rift!"
After a brief silence, two replies echoed into his mind.
Iron Dragon Sorog restrained his excitement and responded coolly, "Understood, my dear brother. The warriors are ready and will depart immediately."
Red Dragon Samantha roared outright.
"ROAR—!!! Whoever stands in our way will be blasted into ash!!!"
After more than a decade away from the Ser Wilderness,
the Ignas Dragon Cluster—wings now filling out—was poised to return, baring sharpened teeth and claws to rend the sky and land that had once been theirs, to seize back all they had lost.