Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

Chapter 42: Delusions of Greed

"Are we really letting that human go?" Samantha asked.

Garoth folded the map and gazed in the direction where the rogue had fled before withdrawing his gaze. "Do I seem like the kind of dragon who breaks his word? If I said I'd allow her to escape my territory, then I'll give her that chance."

Since Garoth had spoken, Samantha asked no further questions. She began clearing the battlefield, meticulously searching every corner to collect the adventurers' equipment—some intact, some damaged, others completely destroyed.

"My dear brother, may I have these alchemy equipment?" She gathered the gear in her front claws, looking up with pleading eyes.

To Garoth, the adventurers' equipment and alchemical tools were relatively low-grade, practically worthless compared to what he possessed. Yet he didn't immediately agree. "What do you plan to do with them?"

Samantha answered excitedly, "Dismantle them! Melt them down! I want to try forging alchemical tools suitable for dragon use!" Given her current alchemy skills, the failure rate would be high. But regardless of the outcome, she stood to gain valuable experience from the process.

Garoth flicked his tail. "Renovate your 'alchemy workshop' first. You can have these items to craft tools, but don't neglect your black oil refining duties."

Samantha's eyes lit up. "Ah, my dear brother! I'll definitely succeed in creating alchemical tools! Just wait to be proud of me!" Her final tone resembled how a younger dragon might address an elder rather than a peer.

Truthfully, after Garoth had repeatedly appeared during her moments of weakness to turn the tide—providing a sense of security even the Iron Dragon Mother couldn't offer (since no dangers existed within her territory)—Samantha's initial reluctant submission had transformed into genuine dependence.

At heart, Samantha was merely a six-year-old wyrmling. Though possessing the Dragon Legacy, her mentality remained immature, far from matching Garoth's level of development. She now saw Garoth as both a dependable figure and a role model to emulate.Whoosh! Garoth beat his wings, stirring up gusts that swirled dust and broken branches around him.

"Where are you going?" Samantha asked, pausing her reconstruction of the crude stone slab shelter that served as her alchemy workshop.

"To deal with that rogue," Garoth replied.

"Huh? But didn't you say we'd let her go?" Samantha sounded confused.

"Mistaken. I said I'd let her leave the territory," Garoth corrected. Let her go? What a joke. Adventurers were creatures that, unless completely eradicated, would keep coming in endless waves unless he abandoned his territory entirely. Moreover, adventurers included numerous powerful individuals. Allowing the rogue to escape alive meant inviting future danger—something Garoth would never permit.

From the very beginning, he'd never intended to spare the rogue. As for why he'd let her run first, it wasn't for amusement, but mainly to check whether other adventurers might be lying in ambush outside. The likelihood seemed small—when hunting dragons, they'd typically attack all together to ensure success. But what if?

Caution never hurt. Until he gained sufficient strength, Garoth remained extremely careful about preserving his life. Impetuous wyrmlings usually ended up buried in the wilderness.

With powerful wingbeats, he soared into the sky, blending with the night.

"My brother truly lives up to being Samantha's sibling—thoroughly wicked! I'm still too naive and have much to learn from Garoth," Samantha mused before returning to renovating her small alchemy workshop.

Meanwhile...

Under the bright moonlight casting silver hues across the wilderness, the rogue panted heavily. Having discarded her leather armor and alchemical tools, she wore practically nothing, her body covered with small bleeding cuts from sharp foliage and stones. She'd reached the outskirts of the Iron Fir Hills.

In her current state—without companions, equipment, weakened and injured—even after leaving the Iron Fir Hills, surviving the wilderness would remain extremely difficult, nearly impossible. Yet a slim chance remained.

"Damn it! Damn that evil dragon!" she seethed through gritted teeth. "Do you think I'll just die out here? That I'm insignificant?" Her fists clenched so tightly her nails nearly drew blood from her palms.

"I will escape this wilderness! I'll return with stronger companions and make you pay dearly for your arrogance!" Two wyrmlings—a red dragon and an even more formidable hybrid—represented an irresistible temptation for adventurers. If she could just escape and spread the news, countless would flock to form dragon-hunting parties.

Ignoring her exhaustion, the rogue ran desperately. First priority: get far from the Iron Fir Hills.

As time passed, she paused to rest against a slope, looking back toward the hills. No pursuing dragon appeared—it seemed she'd truly been spared.

Crack. The sound of claws on gravel suddenly echoed nearby.

The rogue instantly tensed, peering around. In her view, a pack of needle-furred wolves sniffed the air, drawn by the scent of blood as they closed in from different directions—all focused on her.

The blood scent excited the wolves. Detecting her weakness, they bypassed cautious probing and lunged directly for the kill.

Already weakened and stripped of gear, the rogue stood no chance against the pack. Within minutes, she died filled with resentment and rage, becoming the wolves' meal.

—Better to have died by dragon's hand. At least that would've been honorable and quick. This was her final thought as darkness took her.

Meanwhile, high above, Garoth circled silently, observing the scene below.

"No other adventurers present." He'd shadowed the rogue briefly, finding no allies waiting, and had been about to strike when the wolf pack appeared. So he held back, watching as the wolves finished his work.

Soon, not even bones remained on the ground. The wolves dispersed elsewhere.

Such was the wilderness's nature—the weak consumed completely, living day to day—a universal truth across countless worlds.

With this concern resolved, Garoth returned to the Iron Fir Hills, unfurling his map under moonlight. The more he studied the marked location, the more familiar it seemed. After several minutes of contemplation, realization struck.

"The marked spot is the abandoned mine where the Rockgrub worm colony lives." The Ser Wilderness contained countless abandoned mines—as numerous as stars. Initially, when the rogue mentioned a dungeon beneath one, he hadn't made the connection. Now the coincidence surprised him.

Yet upon reflection, it made sense.

"That Worm King possesses extraordinary mental abilities—direct control over other Rockgrubs' lives. Far beyond normal for its kind." Garoth pondered. "Could exposure to that legendary alchemical item have triggered this psionic evolution?"

The thought stirred greed even in Garoth's disciplined mind, tempting him to rush recklessly to investigate and claim the legendary artifact immediately.

Then—no more caution needed! He'd ascend rapidly to draconic supremacy, crushing all who dared call him evil single-handedly!

Dominating the world! Doing as he pleased! Living forever!

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" The red iron wyrmling violently shook his head, taking deep breaths to calm his agitation. Looking at Samantha—an ordinary wyrmling serving as cautionary example—he reminded himself never to succumb to typical dragon flaws, lest he share similar fate.

Greed—second only to arrogance and pride among dangers that could doom a dragon.