novelraw Chapter 353: Ancestor Ignas
Chapter 353: Ancestor Ignas
"Everyone stop."
The deep voice of the red iron dragon and the cry of the phoenix rang out across the sky at the same time, cutting through the clamor of wind and rain.
After receiving the clear orders from the two leaders, the vast flock of raptors, beasts, and magical creatures that had shrouded the battlefield like dark clouds rapidly dispersed, revealing several young and adolescent dragons that had been besieged for a long time. New cracks and scratches marred their scales. Some bore bleeding wounds of varying depth that were slowly healing, the scent of dragon blood mixing with the rain. Overall, however, these were only superficial injuries, far from severe.
One by one the great dragons lifted their heads and broadened their chests, dragon might surging. Their breaths remained powerful and scorching, as if what had just occurred was merely a warm-up rather than a brutal battle.
On the other side, the number of birds was visibly reduced. Many corpses with singed or disheveled feathers lay scattered in the muddy undergrowth. The sea of talons and wings had briefly overwhelmed the dragons by sheer numbers, but individual strikes were ultimately limited against dragon scales. When those attackers were struck by the dragons’ breath, claws, or tail swipes in wide counterattacks, being hit head-on often meant death or crippling injury, and they plummeted with broken wings.
To be fair, this raptor force was not weak. They were numerous and not low-ranked. If they were willing to press on endlessly without counting losses and without losing morale, relying on their numbers and the few outstanding elites among them, they would have a good chance of dragging the dragons into mutual destruction. But unless they were completely enslaved and controlled, creatures almost always break under heavy casualties; few sustain that level of commitment.
Garoth hovered, wings beating, and glanced at the phoenix beside him, whose light had slightly dimmed. He asked, "Do you have a name of your own?"
The phoenix gave a slight nod and elegantly preened her disordered feathers. Highly intelligent beings like her generally had personal names; that was one key distinction between sentient creatures and ordinary monsters.
"Anqiya Phoenix," she replied. Her voice was still crisp, but some of the initial arrogance had faded.
According to ancient lore, all phoenixes trace their origin to one great ancestor whose name was Phoenix. Later phoenixes inherited Phoenix as a common surname, passed down through generations. This was somewhat similar to dragons. However, dragons’ innate pride tended to exceed that of phoenixes. Many mighty dragons, upon reaching achievements that brought fame to their lineage, would cut off prior inherited surnames and retain only their unique names as the new origin for their bloodline. That name would be remembered and carried on by their descendants.For example, Garoth’s branch carries the surname Ignas, derived from an ancestral dragon. That ancestor was a being beyond the legendary tier, one who had stepped into the realm of the immortal. Barring accident or death in battle, he might still exist somewhere in a distant plane—or possibly in the Material Plane, though ancient dragons here face many restrictions, making that less likely.
Records in the Dragon Legacy about this Ignas ancestor were sparse, more like blurred legends. What impressed Garoth most was a message left personally by that ancestor:
"My name is Ignas. I reached the legendary realm at the age of one hundred and twenty-three, shortly after coming of age."
He had become a legendary dragon almost as soon as he reached maturity. That testified to the ancestor’s extraordinary talent. The reason this message stood out to Garoth was that beneath it the legacy had become like a message board. Successive generations of Ignas descendants, when accessing that portion of the legacy, would leave what they considered their most brilliant, noteworthy deeds beside it.
"Alvarez, as a Young Dragon (fifteen years old), defeated an adolescent Gold Dragon by outranking it."
"Clara, magical prodigy! While still a juvenile, she mastered and awakened spell-like abilities normally only accessible to adolescent dragons."
"Ortiz—hm—before a hundred years old, successfully abducted princesses from thirty-two different kingdoms! Record-holder."
And so on, a colorful variety. That ancestral achievement note had become a stage for descendants to showcase themselves and compete. When Garoth had direct offspring in the future, he could likewise leave his own treasure of knowledge in the Dragon Legacy. He could write down his most glorious deeds: for example, drinking black oil that other dragons cannot stomach; daring to refine deadly weaknesses that others avoid; casually swallowing gems that other dragons labor to consume. Any unprecedented achievement in some field could be recorded.
If one day his power surpassed that of the eponymous Ignas ancestor, he could even erase the ancestor’s name and make his own into the new surname of that branch—an immense honor among dragons.
Returning to the present, Garoth gathered his dissipating thoughts, beat his massive wings, and turned toward another area of the battlefield. The phoenix Anqiya gave a cry and led the flock of birds in pursuit, while several other great dragons beat their wings and followed the leader.
Elsewhere, the fierce chase and clash between the Amethyst Dragon Lion Ennus, the holy spirit deer, and the Beholder had concluded. The Beholder’s wrinkled spherical body had been torn apart, its broken limbs scattered, its viscera mixed with dust and mud—dead beyond doubt. Its remains still held scorched holy energy and bore the rips and bite marks of a great predatory lion. The most lethal strike pierced its massive central eye. A solidified spear of light remained embedded there; though its glow had dimmed, it had not fully faded.
The holy spirit deer was still alive, but in a dire situation. Ennus, the Amethyst Dragon Lion, pressed his massive body down, pinning the deer to the ground so it could not rise. His huge maw, lined with fangs, hovered over the deer’s slender throat—the sharp tips had already pierced white fur and flesh. Thin threads of deer blood, emitting a soft white light, slowly seeped out.
Some beasts loyal to the holy spirit deer attempted to rush forward and aid it, but they were blocked by the Molten Iron Legion, which formed encircling iron-barrier-like ranks. They were overwhelmed and unable to assist.
"Sweet little snack, count yourself lucky," the Amethyst Dragon Lion’s low roar carried a wave of spiritual energy into the deer’s ears. "Had this been during my period of kingship, you would already be a delicacy on my table. I would savor your warm, savory flesh."
"You despicable lion! You only took advantage of the moment when I and that fiend were exhausted to seize the upper hand," the holy spirit deer retorted, struggling. "If we had been at full strength and fought fairly, I would have beaten you to the ground and made you beg for mercy."
Every effort the deer made only drove Ennus’s claws and fangs deeper, sending fresh waves of pain across its body.
Suddenly, Ennus loosened his grip and took a few steps back, sitting down and leisurely licking the deer’s blood from his claws. The deer tried to struggle up and flee. Just as it rose and moved a short distance, a far deeper dragon might spread over it like a tangible weight, pressing down and stalling its motion. It raised its head and looked up at the towering dragon silhouette that obscured the sky, terror and hesitation flashing across its eyes. After struggling for a while, it chose to remain on the spot, anxiously scraping the muddy ground with its hooves.
Garoth lowered his massive head and surveyed the chaotic battlefield. "Leader," Ennus emitted a low, respectful roar, transmitting the gist of his words via spiritual energy. "I grievously wounded the Beholder and intended to spare it for you to deal with personally, but this holy spirit deer seized the opportunity and struck the final blow before I could. I report this as it happened."
Garoth folded his wings and descended deliberately, landing before the holy spirit deer. The shadow cast by his vast body almost completely enveloped the deer.
"Now," he said plainly, without evasion, "you have two choices."
Submission, or death.
The holy spirit deer was silent for a few seconds. Its massive, branch-like antlers drooped slightly. It made its choice: the forelegs, covered in white fur, bent and the deer slowly knelt in the mud, bowing its head deeply. "I... am willing to submit to you, mighty lord of dragons."
"Good. Rise," Garoth said flatly, signaling the deer to stand.
The deer rose and cast a wary glance at Ennus, who still sat licking his claws with evident relish, then fixed its gaze on the red iron dragon with determination.
"Great Lord of Molten Iron, before I formally swear fealty to you, may I ask one small favor?" it paused and raised a hoof to point at Ennus without ceremony. "Once I have fully recovered, I request a fair one-on-one duel with this opportunistic lion! The loser must humbly acknowledge the victor and accept a lower status."
Garoth shifted his gaze toward Ennus. From his observer’s perspective, Ennus clearly had the advantage. He possessed superior raw physical power and excelled at combining spiritual energy to fuel berserk combat. In contrast, the holy spirit deer’s abilities leaned toward healing, support, purification, and holy strikes—not specialized for direct melee, and not especially effective against Ennus. In a legionary context, the deer’s strategic value could surpass Ennus’s, but in a one-on-one duel the lion’s win rate would be at least seventy percent.
That was Garoth’s rational assessment. The angry, resentful deer clearly disagreed.
"Leader! I eagerly await this duel!" Ennus growled excitedly, baring his white fangs at the deer. "Naive little snack, your courage is commendable. But that won’t change the fact that to me you remain a delicious prey."
The deer curled its nose in disgust. "Brutish and coarse lion. You have great strength yet cannot speak like a sentient being; you only roar like an ignorant beast?" it spat.
"Hmph, ignorance," Ennus snapped back clearly, proving he could speak if he wanted to—he simply chose not to.
"Enough," Garoth’s deep voice cut between them. He looked at the deer and asked, "Tell me your name."
"Rushi," the deer answered.
"Rushi, and Anqiya," Garoth’s gaze swept over the newly submissive holy spirit deer and the phoenix whose flames had been reined and who hovered in the sky. In an unquestionable tone he announced, "You two will enjoy equal status with the Dragon Lion Ennus."
"You will serve as lords under me, continuing to lead your original tribes and govern the territories you are familiar with."
"But power comes with obligations."
"You must meet all prerequisites I set and swear fealty to the Molten Iron Tribe."
He repeated in broad terms the conditions he had already stated to Ennus: renouncing claims to kingship, accepting garrisons, providing troops and resources, and answering calls to arms. Finally he asked in a low voice, "If you have any objections to these conditions, speak now."
The phoenix Anqiya carefully waved her right wing and said, "Regarding the Molten Iron Legion stationed in my territory, I hope they can be composed of more aesthetically pleasing creatures—something shiny and beautiful, and certainly not ogres or gnolls."
She had standards for her followers’ appearances.
Garoth’s gaze instantly sharpened and dragon might condensed slightly. You actually dared to ask that? "Fine," the red iron dragon suddenly grinned with a benign smile. "If you can withstand me under my command for ten minutes right now, I will grant that small wish."
Anqiya’s feathers bristled; she felt the danger behind that smile. She hurriedly shook her head and tucked her head back. "No, no! I didn’t say anything just now. Pretend I didn’t say a thing. I will follow your arrangements."
On the other side, the holy spirit deer Rushi and Ennus wisely remained silent, offering no further remarks. They understood that retaining their lands and autonomy was already a great favor and that they should not be presumptuous.
At once, the Molten Iron Tribe’s followers moved with practiced efficiency, tidying the battlefield, collecting spoils, and treating the wounded. After the Beholder’s death, creatures it had enslaved mentally regained their senses, but most were so grievously wounded or mentally exhausted from the fight that only a few survivors remained, all in extremely weak condition.
Garoth felt no regret at the Beholder’s death. Though both Beholders and Ennus manipulated minds, the Beholder’s nature tended toward evil domination and absolute control—fundamentally different from Ennus using spiritual energy as a combat aid. A Beholder’s very existence was an unstable danger; if left in the tribe, no one could guarantee it would not secretly enslave other followers. That would be a grave hidden threat.
Moreover, in mainstream opinion, fiends from lower planes or other worlds were considered even more dangerous and evil than bad dragons. Harboring a Beholder would confirm the Molten Iron Tribe as an evil faction, harming its future development.
The heavy rain continued to pour tirelessly from the sky, washing over the scattered corpses and wreckage and diluting the flowing blood, though it could not quickly erase the deep stains. The tribe’s followers labored like ants in the rain to clear the battlefield.
After briefing the two newly appointed lords on subsequent consolidation, reporting, and defensive priorities, the dragon host and their respective subordinate lords bid farewell and returned to their domains.