Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

Chapter 32: The Curse

The surrounding air was frigid, the ground coated with a layer of frost.

Dense clusters of ice blades remained unmelted, packed tightly together like countless blooming flowers.

A dark figure emerged from the shadows of the nearby forest—obsidian-like dragon scales, crimson patterns, a rugged and imposing frame... It was Garoth, returning to the scene of the crime.

He glanced up at the direction where the Brass Dragon had departed, then surveyed the ravaged abandoned mine.

"Tsk, that Brass Dragon was furious. But then again, dragons treasure their hoards like their very lives. The fact it didn't go completely berserk shows remarkable restraint—typical of a metallic dragon, far more disciplined than the chromatic ones."

Garoth clicked his tongue.

He plucked one of the ice blades with his claws. The cold stung, numbing his talons.

"This level of power... only an adult or older dragon could wield it."

"Ice affinity... Could one of its parents be a Silver Dragon? Most likely."

Dragons didn't exclusively seek mates of their own kind—in fact, same-species pairings were relatively rare. However, due to the dominant nature of draconic bloodlines, hybridization was uncommon. Regardless of parental lineage, offspring usually inherited traits from only one side. Mixed-blood dragons like Garoth were exceptions.

Worth noting:

Not all hybrid dragons were powerful or exceptional.

Garoth inherited the strengths of both Iron Dragons and Red Dragons—a fortunate combination.

But there were unlucky cases where hybrids inherited the weaknesses of both lineages.

For example:

An offspring of a Red Dragon and White Dragon might inherit the White Dragon's physical frailty and vulnerability to both fire and water, coupled with the Red Dragon's reckless temper—a classic case of "ambition outstripping capability" among dragonkind.

Garoth rubbed the keratin plates on his jaw, peering down at the ruined mine.

"Facing the Brass Dragon's wrath, the Worm King must be severely injured. Should I seize this chance to subdue it?"

He shook his head, dismissing the idea.

The Worm King lurked deep beneath the mine. While Garoth could descend, the underground wasn't his domain. Moreover, simply killing the creature offered little benefit.

As for taming it...

Garoth's method of domination through Mind Link was essentially coercion—a transaction lacking stronger guarantees.

This approach would prove ineffective against the Worm King.

Given its high life rank, even if initially subdued, betrayal was inevitable once it recovered.

Later that night, under the moon's veil, Garoth returned to the Iron Fir Hills to assess his spoils.

With a shake of his wings, gemstones and gold coins clattered to the ground, gleaming temptingly under the moonlight.

These weren't ordinary treasures—they pulsed with magical energy, their consumption aiding draconic growth.

Gazing at the glittering hoard, Garoth felt an instinctive surge of desire—a primal urge to protect and hoard them, denying access to any other creature.

This obsession with treasure was etched into dragonkind's bones, like some innate curse.

Garoth refused to succumb.

Excessive greed for wealth was a leading cause of draconic deaths, rivaling even arrogance-induced demises.

He took deep, measured breaths, wrestling against the craving until his gaze cleared.

At four years old, he'd once unearthed a magic gemstone and immediately wanted to hide it in the most secure crevice of his body. Recognizing this as abnormal, he resolved to consume it instead.

Yet when the gem reached his jaws, he couldn't bring himself to bite down—as if it were his own vital essence.

Eventually, he submerged the gem in a lake, visiting periodically to resist temptation and temper his will.

After two years of struggle, at age six, he finally devoured it—a monumental feat for any wyrmling.

Non-dragons could never comprehend this all-consuming obsession—a soul-deep compulsion, an inborn instinct.

Meanwhile...

Samantha, midway through inscribing alchemical runes on Mobel, suddenly froze, ears pricking up.

"Ah! That divine, crystalline clinking—where does it come from?"

She turned to see the pile of gems and coins at Garoth's feet. Instantly, her breathing quickened, pupils dilating with avarice.

Her distracted talon swiped across Mobel's flank, leaving a long gash.

"YOWL—!" Mobel's pained howl went ignored as Samantha approached Garoth in a trance.

"My dear, wealthy, magnificent, radiant brother!"

Abandoning all Red Dragon dignity, she prostrated before him.

"Please, I beg you!"

"Share just a little treasure! I'll do anything!"

Every fiber of her being itched as if covered in ants—an unbearable craving driving her to any extreme for even a single coin.

Garoth regarded her with pity.

This was the typical wyrmling reaction to treasure.

Only the knowledge that she couldn't take it by force prevented her from pouncing. Even so, resisting the urge to snatch his hoard required tremendous willpower.

A common tactic among dragon-hunting adventurers involved scattering coins and gems in draconic territories, then lying in ambush—exploiting this innate sensitivity.

"Very well."

Garoth's casual agreement stunned her.

He added, "But only if your actions please me. Satisfy me, and you may earn rewards."

Samantha's eyes widened. "What must I do?"

Garoth smiled. "That's for you to determine. Simply find ways to delight me."

As the saying went:

"Laws unknown make authority unfathomable."

With no fixed criteria, rewards depended entirely on Garoth's whims—a classic dangling carrot.

"Pleasing Garoth sounds simple... He wants me to master alchemy quickly."

After brief consideration, Samantha arrived at a solution.

"Dearest brother, I know exactly what to do!"

Fired with determination, she returned to her alchemical studies—all for potential treasure.

Once she departed, Garoth picked up a gemstone.

Moving with unnatural slowness, he brought it to his jaws, squeezed his eyes shut, and—CRUNCH—forced himself to chew and swallow.

A surge of energy—several times more potent than an equivalent mass of black oil—flooded his system.

The fatigue from training and battle dissipated instantly.

Magic gems were far rarer than black oil—harder to mine and impossible to mass-produce. While more potent, they were exponentially more difficult to acquire.

Emboldened, Garoth attempted to consume a second gem.

But his jaws refused to open.

Every scale and muscle rebelled against the act, his heart aching as if pierced—the instinctual resistance overwhelming.

"This compulsion remains too strong. One gem per session is my current limit."

He set the remaining five gems aside—three white ice crystals, one fire ruby, one water sapphire—alongside two hundred gold and silver coins.

With a wing-sweep, he stored them all away.

Then, energized, he seized three alchemical devices and took flight—ready to test their capabilities.

Unlike magical artifacts, alchemical tools prioritized functionality over ownership.

Even mortals could wield powerful alchemical gear against supernatural foes—provided they had activation energy.

Only high-tier alchemical items featured binding mechanisms.