novelraw Chapter 445: Old Dragon of the Wilderness: I just took a nap, and you're saying this place already has an owner?
Chapter 445: Old Dragon of the Wilderness: I just took a nap, and you're saying this place already has an owner?
Chapter 445 Wilderness Old Dragon: I Just Slept a While, You Say This Place Has an Owner? 12
Six years is but a blink for long-lived dragons.
Yet that span was long enough to make a once barren land burst with life, to let a nascent kingdom take firm root.
The promises the Lothrian Kingdom once made—aside from the quick recognition of sovereignty at the founding—saw their other three major supports gradually implemented, producing tangible results in Aola Kingdom’s growth.
Inside the spacious palace, after finishing a round of physical training, the red iron dragon turned his attention to a compilation of the kingdom’s recent developments.
He had handed most matters to the Iron Dragon Regent, focusing personally on strengthening his body.
But as the realm’s supreme ruler, Garoth had never truly abandoned power.
Occasionally, he personally reviewed the kingdom’s trajectory, steering the great vessel’s course rather than becoming a hands-off emperor.
Now, stacks of organized documents had been presented before the Red Iron Dragon Emperor.
Garoth inspected the thick pile without using his claws to flip through the pages.With a flick of his long, dexterous tail, he rolled the documents onto his heavily scaled head.
The Red Iron Dragon closed his eyes slightly and quietly intoned a magical incantation.
Seconds later, a low-level spell formed.
[Sensory Info]
Crunch!
The documents on Garoth’s head, along with his skull, glowed with a soft, synchronized magical luminescence.
As the lights pulsed rhythmically, a flood of information—text, figures, charts—washed over Garoth’s mind like a tide.
A few seconds later, Garoth opened his eyes again.
He now knew everything recorded in that thick dossier.
“Learning these convenience spells was the right choice; they save me precious time and bring unexpected ease.”
Garoth removed the documents from his head and set them aside casually.
The spells he had learned and mastered were mostly auxiliary: Cleaning, Sensory Info, Know Language, Tracking Mark—rather than offensive spells like Fireball or Chain Lightning.
The reason was simple.
Unless Garoth abandoned physical training entirely to devote himself to magic, the destructive power of his offensive spells would never match the damage from a casual swipe of his claws, and might not even surpass a scorching sneeze when his nostrils tickled.
The Red Iron Dragon steadied himself, returning his focus to the kingdom development intelligence he had just absorbed.
“Over the years, Lothrian has brought a lot of concrete benefits to the wilderness.”
“Although we pulled the Divine Kingdom of Theo into this, the cost we paid was far less than the gains. In this win-win cooperation, we benefited far more.”
Garoth thought over the figures and calculated in silence.
Aola Kingdom’s rapid rise in eight years owed much to Lothrian’s aid.
For example, under guidance from a team of senior alchemists dispatched by Lothrian, the industrial district outside the Citadel of Crimson Flame has become one of the kingdom’s strongest beating hearts.
The industrial zone had changed beyond recognition; it was no longer just crucibles and furnaces.
Instead there were rows of precision instruments, rune-stabilized reaction kettles, crystal arrays for complex material analysis, and more.
Raw ores from the Ser Wilderness underwent efficient smelting and metal purification here, impurities removed, extracting much purer metal.
These ingots were no longer crude blanks; their purity and stability met the requirements for casting advanced construct frames.
Meanwhile, Lothrian survey teams and Aola’s native guides traversed perilous terrain.
In six years, beyond the old Thousand Serpent Traces trade route, a standardized road network centered on the Citadel of Crimson Flame had formed, linking major mines, black oil fields, important settlements, and military strongpoints.
These roads weren’t simple dirt paths; they were paved with local materials blended with specific alchemical compounds—solid, even, and able to withstand heavy transport convoys and the trampling of large beasts.
At several critical nodes, large teleportation arrays were even built.
These arrays were constructed with Lothrian’s assistance and jointly maintained.
Though each activation demanded considerable resources, they dramatically shortened the transit time for crucial supplies and personnel, improving the kingdom’s governance and response capabilities.
More importantly, this convenient transport web strengthened the Citadel of Crimson Flame’s grip on outlying areas, making commands from the center weightier and less disputable.
Also, the wilderness’s specialties were no longer sold cheaply or extorted by middlemen.
Under agreement, they were sold in large volumes to Lothrian, which purchased them at fair prices.
Rare minerals buried deep underground, ancient magically grown plants from glaciers, precious materials harvested from ferocious magical beasts—these resources had become jingling wealth in Aola’s treasury, rapidly enriching the kingdom and funding further needs.
And most crucially, knowledge.
From Lothrian’s senior alchemists and craftsmen, Aola learned a ton of cutting-edge techniques.
In the future, without Lothrian’s aid construction might slow, but wouldn’t grind to a halt.
“The problem is, the revived Holy King… his condition isn’t right. As time passes, he can no longer suppress the renewed ambitions of the nations. They are unwilling to have invested so much and received nothing.”
“The embers among the southern nations are starting to re-ignite.”
“My ties with Lothrian are close; inevitably, we would be dragged into their war-chariot.”
The Red Iron Dragon raised his majestic head, his gaze as if piercing the palace to the southern horizon, thoughtful.
Since the Holy King once emerged and, with thunderous measures, quelled the civil war, the southern nations had maintained a superficial peace for over twenty years, shelving disputes to lick their wounds and recover.
But now each nation’s strength was recovering.
They were growing restless, testing the existing order.
Around three years ago, unidentified legendary figures had even openly clashed in the airspace near Lothrian’s capital, causing a stir.
They were eventually driven off by Lothrian’s stationed legends.
Yet the Holy King did not appear.
Such probing of Lothrian’s bottom line and the Holy King’s status had become more frequent recently.
Garoth’s keen senses had already sniffed the increasingly tense, restless atmosphere.
He foresaw that unless the Holy King could again show a force that truly made the nations feel pain, a broader second great war was likely unavoidable absent some major variable.
Since the old Lothrian Federation had dissolved, this next conflict would not be internal.
If it erupted, the flames would be fiercer and the scope broader than the first internal war.
“War is a massive whirlpool.”
“Once it truly begins, even out here in the Ser Wilderness, my fledgling dragon nation cannot remain untouched; we will be affected.”
“In conflicts at that scale, the fence-sitters often get wiped out first.”
“Maintaining close ties with Lothrian is strategically sensible. No need to change lightly. Besides, if I tried to pivot toward Reebos, they would still distrust me, and I couldn’t trust them either.”
Garoth made his preemptive strategic judgment.
Then he rose slowly and left the palace to train again on a rear mountain.
It was nighttime.
Above the Ser Wilderness sky, two moons of different sizes hung high, shedding cold, clear light. Countless bright stars studded the deep night, flickering.
Garoth glanced up at the wide, familiar night sky, then looked away.
As usual, he took out and used the Eye of Truth—both to augment his vision and to assist his training for better results.
Not long after, while focusing his gaze on the Citadel of Crimson Flame, his pupils contracted for a moment and his expression turned serious and grave.
In his extraordinary sight, countless life-sign luminescences shimmered like reflected stars across the city’s corners.
One of those lights was unusually large.
Within its tiny humanoid outline, dragon claws and fangs were concealed.
“An uninvited legendary dragon… without prior notice—friend or foe, I do not know.”
“Sent by the Scale Path as a dragon lich? Or a legendary giant from the Bronze Dragon line seeking revenge? Or something else?”
Garoth fixed his gaze on that special presence in the capital, pondering its identity and intent.
He immediately halted his training for the night and launched himself into the sky.
At the same time, in a bustling street of the Citadel of Crimson Flame.
Although it was late, the street remained brightly lit and full of voices.
Creatures of many races jostled shoulders; magical lamps intermingled with traditional torches and oil lamps, lighting the smooth, paved street like daylight, vibrant and lively.
A tall, slender “youth” in a deep purple robe strolled leisurely through the throng.
He had a handsome face and deep purple pupils, appearing very young, yet an air of composure born from long years of accumulation naturally shrouded him, causing some perceptive beings to instinctively keep their distance.
He was a legendary giant dragon who had slept nearly a hundred years and had just awakened, finding the wilderness greatly changed and coming to investigate.
Iseramas.
He had long dwelt in the Ser Wilderness, preferring observation over conflict, a low-profile temperament without fame.
“Interesting…”
Iseramas murmured, scanning his surroundings with keen interest.
He saw an ogre vendor handing a human child a roasted skewer with tongs; he saw a dwarf warrior and an ogre elite clanking mugs outside a tavern, loudly recounting daytime adventures; he saw a centaur patrol stride by in formation, treating residents of all races equally to maintain order.
“Before I fell asleep, the Ser Wilderness was only countless warring, chaotic primitive clans and the nominal Lothrian Federation overseeing this place.”
“Now, it has become this.”
“A dragon-ruled kingdom has sprung up, and it is named ‘Aola.’”
Iseramas felt a mix of emotion and amazement.
He had spent his elder years in a long slumber in the wilderness, and woke to a world turned upside down; the old wilderness felt strange and brand new.
Powerful Lothrian had splintered into history.
Red and iron dragons had risen with astonishing speed in a mere century.
On the wilderness stood a magnificent, orderly dragon kingdom.
All these changes surprised and unsettled the freshly awakened Iseramas, making him feel like an old relic discarded by a new era.
At first he even suspected something had gone wrong with his sleep, that he had actually slumbered for hundreds of years.
Only after much confirming and learning did he accept how much the land had changed in a century.
Gathering himself, Iseramas continued to wander.
He bore little innate hostility toward a realm founded by evil dragons, driven more by curiosity about novelties.
Moreover, seeing with his own eyes the relatively harmonious coexistence of races in the capital made it hard to match this place with the greedy, brutal dragon-ruled domains of his memory.
Soon, Iseramas paused before a stall selling pretty crystals and magical trinkets.
He idly picked up a deep-blue crystal and examined it.
But then a vast, dignified dragon might descended from the sky, instantly surrounding him.
The bustling crowd was oblivious and carried on; this pressure focused only on him.
Iseramas’s fingers holding the crystal stilled, and he looked up, his gaze piercing the lights and clamor above, toward cloud-veiled heights.
A towering, dangerous dragon silhouette hovered between the clouds, watching him.
“Spotted so quickly?”
“I carefully hid my aura and cast a wide mental suggestion, so I shouldn’t have—hmm, the other must have a perception trait or is using a legendary item.”
Surprise flickered through his mind, but his face remained composed.
Iseramas then slightly shook his head and vanished; those who saw it reacted not at all, as if they saw nothing unusual.
Meanwhile, a kilometer above the Citadel of Crimson Flame, Iseramas’s outline slowly solidified into his true form.
His scales weren’t metallic or thick horn but like pure amethyst carved into facets that threw deep, mesmerizing light under the moon. A row of purple crystals floated along his back, undulating slightly. His wings were thin and broad, the membranes streaming with rich spiritual energy.
He was the leader of the Gemstone Dragons.
An Amethyst Dragon.
Almost as he revealed himself, the clouds ahead split as if pulled aside by an invisible hand, and a dangerous dragon silhouette slowly emerged.
Compared with the graceful, spiritual amethyst dragon, the Red Iron Dragon’s body seemed forged for battle.
Every part of him was a terrible weapon, covered in Battle-Hardened Patterns; even subsiding his dragon might, he radiated an oppressive terror that made the Gemstone Dragon feel uneasy.
“Strange Amethyst Dragon.”
“You come uninvited, loitering in my capital to observe—do you find Aola’s scenery uniquely worth tasting?”
Garoth’s deep voice rumbled like distant thunder through the clouds.
Countless fine runes spun like stars in his eyes.
The Eye of Truth had already opened, letting him gauge the other’s approximate level.
Legendary Amethyst Dragon: Level Twenty-Three.
On the other side, Iseramas saw up close the legendary Dragon Emperor for the first time and felt a stir in his heart, a flash of admiration in his dragon pupils.
But he quickly regained calm and composure.
“Are you Emperor Ignas?”
Iseramas inclined his head with the courtesy of kin.
He specialized in the Mind Sorcerer path and had strong spiritual power, yet he did not probe or influence the Red Iron Dragon’s mind—basic respect between powerful kin, especially a king.
Then the Amethyst Dragon explained, “I apologize for intruding without invitation.”
“I slept for many years in the wilderness and only recently awoke. Upon waking I heard a remarkable young kin had risen here and founded a grand kingdom.”
“Curiosity drove me to come uninvited to see with my own eyes.”
“If my actions offended you, I sincerely apologize and ask your pardon.”
“As for the scenery…” His gaze swept the luminous city below and he praised, “It is indeed distinctive, full of life and order—impressive.”
Garoth calmly assessed the Amethyst Dragon.
The other’s manner was unhurried, eyes clear and peaceful, showing no hostility or greed.
Moreover, Gemstone Dragons are traditionally neutral, seldom intervening in secular royal disputes; their stance toward Metal Dragons and Five-colored Dragons is usually similar.
After a moment’s thought, Garoth nodded, accepting the explanation and apology.
“My kingdom welcomes visitors who observe the rules and come with good intentions. I am Garoth Ignas—no doubt you have heard the name.”
He welcomed him and introduced himself.
“Iseramas,” the Amethyst Dragon gave his true name, “an old fellow who slept too long and woke to find the world utterly changed.”
At that, Garoth’s eyes flicked.
He seemed to have thought of something and asked, “Iseramas… have you ever had an intimate relationship with some powerful lion-like beast?”
The Amethyst Dragon’s eyes widened and he didn’t answer immediately.
But from that momentary reaction, Garoth already had his answer.
Old dragons’ faces are thick-skinned after all.
After a brief surprise, Iseramas laughed heartily without embarrassment.
He said frankly, “Heh, I didn’t expect you to know of such old business. Yes, long ago I once took a male lion form and was active for a period—that was a wonderful past.”
Garoth slowly said, “Under me there is a lord named Ennus.”
“He carries a strong Amethyst Dragon bloodline and his aura resembles yours. If I am not mistaken, he is likely your offspring left behind.”
Iseramas’s face showed surprise at the suggestion that he had left dragon-lion descendants in the wilderness.
Gemstone Dragons don’t regard descendants as reverently as Metal Dragons, but neither are they cold and heartless like evil dragons; when possible, they usually offer some care and guidance to kin.
Iseramas responded, “Thank you—this is unexpected news.”
“When I have time, I will go meet any dragon-lion offspring that share my blood.”
A gust of high-altitude wind howled over the two dragons, rolling the cloud waves.
Garoth slightly inclined his head in acknowledgement of the thanks.
Then he subtly shifted the topic.
“Iseramas, waking after a long sleep, you will need time to reacquaint yourself with this strange land.”
He gestured with a great claw toward the Citadel of Crimson Flame and continued, “Since your offspring Ennus is a lord within my kingdom and tied to its fate, a brief meeting might not be enough to understand his current status or growth.”
The Amethyst Dragon listened quietly, thoughtful.
Garoth’s mind eased a little.
So far this was his first contact with a Gemstone Dragon, and a legendary Amethyst of level twenty-three at that.
Aola already hosted Five-colored Dragons, Iron Hybrid Dragons, and even well-disposed Metal Dragons; only the Gemstone branch was lacking.
He hoped to keep this legendary Amethyst in Aola in some form.
Although Gemstone Dragons are famously neutral, if he could first have him remain and build ties, there would be opportunities later to deepen bonds and mutual interests.
If the kingdom faced a crisis in the future, reinforcement would not rest solely on Garoth’s single legend.
But facing an ancient elder dragon, Garoth did not directly say, “I want you to stay,” nor did he throw out concrete rewards.
His Dragon Taming Technique was refined enough to know that blunt intent often aroused suspicion and resistance.
Instead, he guided the topic so the other would make the “decision.”
“In any case, Iseramas, we are kin. You long dwelt here and can be counted as an ancient resident of the Ser Wilderness; I now rule this land.”
“Since you have only just awakened and find everything unfamiliar, I should extend courtesy.”
“If you have no immediate destination, you might tarry in my capital to adapt to this new age—learn of the changes first. As for Ennus, find a suitable time to approach him more calmly.”
He offered an understanding and convenient option, placing the choice with Iseramas.
Across, Iseramas fell into a longer silence, clearly weighing the offer.
Garoth’s words struck a chord.
He needed time to adapt and was curious about the kingdom and his offspring.
Garoth’s promise would save him many troubles; moreover the other’s attitude was neither servile nor arrogant, granting respect and freedom—quite an unusual evil dragon, no wonder he built such orderly rule.
Finally, the Amethyst Dragon accepted warmly: “Very well… Your Majesty Garoth, your power and magnanimity impress me.”
“You are right. I do need time to re-familiarize myself with the world, especially the realm chosen by those of my blood.”
“Therefore I will be so bold as to inconvenience you a little, staying in your capital a while to properly observe this kingdom that rose while I slept.”
He volunteered his intention to remain.
Garoth was pleased inside, though his scaled face retained its usual calm and majesty.
He nodded slightly and said steadily, “The Citadel of Crimson Flame may not match the southern ancient metropolitan splendors, but we will make guests comfortable. You are welcome to stay, Iseramas.”
Stay?
Since you have entered my territory, don’t think you can leave so easily! This is no ordinary inn for coming and going!
Garoth thought with private satisfaction.
War clouds could return at any moment. With Aola’s legendary forces still thin, he would not let such a legendary dragon wander free day after day.
Soon after he settled the Amethyst Dragon, new news arrived.
The Luckbringer had returned to the Atlantis Continent and would personally visit Aola Kingdom soon to discuss cooperation.