Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

Chapter 3: Negotiation

The dragon's scales were thick and layered, displaying a deep iron-black hue with fine serrated textures across their surface, resembling unfinished forged metal - as if cast from molten steel. Metallic protrusions like exoskeletal joints adorned its body, while a row of shark-fin-like thick spines ran down its back.

It sat motionless upon the high platform.

Neither wings nor limbs were fully extended, its colossal frame remaining in a restrained state.

Yet even so.

An overwhelming oppressive aura radiated from its presence.

The destruction and devastation such a dragon could unleash when angered was terrifying to contemplate.

The dragon gazed at Garoth with black eyes identical to his own.

This was Garoth's mother - the iron dragon matriarch Letitia.

"Mother."

The young dragon lowered his head in greeting toward the platform.Matriarch Letitia was a traditional iron dragon through and through - worshiping no draconic deities, lawful evil in alignment, prioritizing efficiency and pragmatism above all else. She adhered to a rigid hierarchical lifestyle, yearning to establish a world dominated by dragons under iron dragon rule, possessing intense class consciousness.

In her eyes, even offspring shouldn't overstep boundaries.

They must obey her rules and show proper respect and reverence.

"Garoth, my child, born of flame and steel."

The iron dragon matriarch looked down at Garoth, her voice cool yet magnetic: "Six lunar cycles suffice for a whelp to shed soft scales. Yours now stand hard as iron."

Her voice resembled steel grating against sandpaper, each syllable vibrating metallic particles in the air.

Garoth nodded inwardly, sensing trouble.

Dragons categorized age groups differently.

For instance, 1-5 years were whelping years, when young received maternal protection including food, shelter, and security.

From 6-12 came the young dragon phase.

Evil dragons cared little for familial bonds, showing scant interest in raising offspring.

Upon reaching young dragon stage, evil dragons typically expelled their young from their territories to fend for themselves.

Garoth had an elder brother expelled two years prior - his current fate unknown.

As for himself, Garoth had anticipated this day, though not so soon.

This magical world held countless dangers - supernatural creatures weren't limited to dragons, nor was magic their exclusive domain. Worse still, every part of a dragon's body served as premium alchemical material, making them constant targets.

Adult dragons could protect themselves through sheer power.

But young dragons?

Comparatively, young dragons were like toddlers barely able to stand - vulnerable to countless dangers without protection. Survival proved extremely difficult.

Pre-adult mortality rates ran high among evil dragon offspring.

Garoth found expelling young dragons utterly unreasonable - no wonder dragonkind declined nowadays.

Moreover.

He suspected these harsh early experiences shaped adult dragons' violent temperaments.

"At your age, my claws weren't as sharp."

The matriarch continued: "Nor my scales as hard. Yet I'd already left maternal protection to claim my own territory."

Her eyes flickered when mentioning territory, voice slightly unsteady.

This so-called "territory" had been little more than a sewage ditch.

With her thick iron-scaled face betraying no expression, the massive dragon leaned back slightly: "Garoth, you should depart and begin your own life now."

"By dawn tomorrow, your scales shall bear no more dust from this place."

So the expulsion comes after all.

What a damned outdated practice! Just because you suffered through rain doesn't mean you should tear others' umbrellas, dragon mother!

Hearing this, Garoth's heart chilled.

Simultaneously, two barely suppressed chuckles sounded behind him.

The red dragon sister and newly arrived iron dragon brother - both five-year-old whelps - watched Garoth with gleeful eyes, tails swishing happily behind them.

Their evil natures made them frequently provoke Garoth, only to get beaten repeatedly.

They eagerly awaited his expulsion.

"Idiots. Don't they realize I'm just their future selves one year from now?"

Garoth shook his head slightly, unwilling to engage with fools.

These whelps only saw the present, never considering tomorrow.

Raising his lowered head, Garoth addressed the matriarch: "Mother, I wish to remain in your territory longer. I'm not yet prepared."

The matriarch partially extended one wing, its shadow engulfing half the lair.

Her refusal came absolute: "No."

Having anticipated this, Garoth sighed: "I'd hoped to trade treasure for food and shelter. But since you're determined, so be it."

As these words left his mouth, Garoth turned to leave.

Treasure?

The matriarch's pupils instantly narrowed vertically.

"My dear Garoth, wait!"

No true dragon could resist treasure's lure.

Garoth knew this well - treasure represented nearly every dragon's weakness, his mother included.

Though rigidly traditional, believing six-year-olds should fend for themselves, the pragmatic matriarch always allowed exceptions - especially when treasure was involved.

Her stern expression softened noticeably.

Adopting a gentler tone, she inquired: "Where did you acquire treasure? And how much would you trade for food and shelter?"

Garoth sat upright, limbs neatly gathered, gazing up at the massive iron dragon as he calmly explained: "I possess keen mineral sensitivity, particularly toward precious metals. My detection abilities are quite precise."

"I can guarantee at least three ten-pound precious metal ores monthly."

"In return, you provide shelter and your usual high-quality bloody feasts."

The matriarch's bloody feasts came from high-level magical beasts beyond Garoth's current hunting capabilities.

These feasts were essential - his Adaptive Evolution required substantial energy during transformations.

The matriarch nodded slightly.

Reasonable.

Iron dragons did possess metal sensitivity, though rare in young dragons.

"You'd actually mine?"

Dragons naturally disdained mining - work fit only for slaves and servants.

Speaking of treasure, the matriarch adopted a calculating expression: "If you want my servants mining, the price increases accordingly. Exact amounts depend on servant levels requisitioned."

Levels referred to biological rankings.

This system measured individual power - Garoth currently ranked Level 7, matching gold dragons his age, even surpassing average specimens.

Both red and iron dragons typically ranked below gold dragons at equivalent ages.

Among chromatic dragons, white dragons averaged merely Level 3 by age six.

"Unnecessary. I command two mining slaves already. With my personal supervision, their efficiency should suffice."

Garoth declined the offer.

Two mining slaves? The red and iron dragon siblings exchanged surprised glances.

"When did Garoth acquire mining slaves?"

The red sister whispered to her iron brother.

"No idea."

The iron brother shook his head blankly.

Both whelps looked perplexed, utterly unable to imagine where Garoth might have obtained such slaves.