Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

Chapter 48: Blackrock Dwarves and the Earthrage Golem

When he sensed danger, Garoth’s first instinct was to eliminate the source of the threat.

What he really wanted was to launch a surprise night raid tonight, just like when he dealt with the goblin tribe before—rushing through the darkness, wiping out the Blackrock Duchy’s stationed oil field troops, this ‘potential danger,’ nonstop through the night.

Unfortunately.

Garoth was confident that he was no match for the Black Rock forces. Attacking head-on would be like delivering himself on a platter. So he had to find other ways to reduce the risk.

For example, relocating the base.

For example, burning the mountains to erase all traces.

Garoth felt like he might be a bit paranoid, overly cautious about his own life. But he believed that being extra careful couldn’t hurt. In this perilous wilderness, caution was necessary.

Walking on thin ice was just a means to reach the other shore.

“One day, when I become strong enough, I won’t have to live so cautiously anymore.”

“Even if the whole world turns against me then, I will never back down. I will burn it all to ashes, reducing it to dust.” Glancing back at the hills burning like a giant torch in the night, Garoth silently thought this in his heart. Then, without a trace of lingering attachment, he spread his dragon wings and pursued Samantha and Mobel.

Seeing the Earth-Rending Centipede carried by Mobel, Garoth hesitated for a moment, then told him to put it down and completely destroy it.

Though it was a pity, Garoth wasn’t sure if the creature had any tracking system. Since it couldn’t be taken along, it was better to destroy it outright.

Time passed slowly.

Three days later, the morning light poured over the scorched earth of the Iron Fir Hills.

Arriving with the dawn was a group of uninvited guests.

The iron hooves of armored battle rams crushed the charred ground. The war hammer emblem of the Blackrock Duchy’s Third Heavy Cavalry Brigade gleamed with a sharp metallic chill.

Led by an alchemical golem, many Blackrock cavalry halted.

The alchemical golem at the front of the cavalry stood eight meters tall and nearly as wide. Humanoid in shape, it was similar in height to a Giant-Arm Miner, but its entire body was armored, thick and solid. Intricate, complicated runes resembling veins were carved all over its armor. With the roaring operation of its internal alchemical engine, faint blue energy flowed like blood through the runes across its body.

Its shoulders bore its model name engraved in ancient dwarf language.

“Earth Fury.”

At first glance, it looked like an enlarged dwarf.

Sturdy, heavy, and tough.

Compared to it, the Giant-Arm Miner was as skinny as a stalk of hemp.

But the real strength difference between them was dozens of times greater than their size difference. Earth Fury was strong enough to contend with a young dragon.

Only one had come here.

There were many Earth Fury golems guarding the oil field, along with several other models.

Crunch, crunch... the ground cracked open, and several Earth-Rending Centipedes emerged from beneath. Among them, one showed signs of repair but still bore some scars from the last battle.

It was unmistakably the same Earth-Rending Centipede that had fought Garoth in the Iron Fir Hills and had barely escaped underground.

The centipede raised its triangular head and swayed a few times in the direction of the Iron Fir Hills.

“This is it. The theft of oil-soil caused some loss of our black oil, and destroyed two Earth-Rending Centipede hatchlings.”

Patting the centipede’s head, a dwarf sorcerer spoke.

He was about 1.4 meters tall, with a copper-colored beard that reached his chest, tied with an iron ring. His exposed arms were extremely muscular, with boulders of muscle rising like rocks.

“Fire Tongs” Groni, dwarf alchemist.

The cavalry leader removed his helmet, revealing half of his face burned by fire.

That was a medal earned five years ago in a fierce battle with a powerful beast.

“War Hammer” Olaf, dwarf knight.

Olaf spat on the ground, creating a small pit, his bell-like eyes scanning the scorched earth.

“It wasn’t a wildfire.”

“This little dragon burned cleaner than the fiery ale at the Deep Furnace Bar!”

Olaf was about 1.6 meters tall and even more robust than the dwarf alchemist. Wearing rune-inscribed heavy armor forged from steel and iron, he still breathed steadily. The muscles beneath the armor looked like they were packed with asphalt and oil, with veins twisting like ancient tree roots, alive with the vigor of a furnace.

Dwarves.

This race was strong and sturdy, with muscle and bone density higher than humans.

Although their height was average, if dwarven and human warriors of the same level fought, dwarves usually had the upper hand.

As Olaf spoke, he casually took a flask from his waist and tilted it to drink.

But the flask’s mouth was sealed by an invisible force, not a drop could pour out.

The dwarf alchemist Groni glanced at the drunkard and said,

“Olaf, you drank three barrels of black rye beer at camp last night and lost this month’s pay. Today, we’re here for serious business, save your drinking urges.”

Rubbing his beard, Groni pondered, “According to the information from the Earth-Rending Centipedes, there are two hatchlings here—one red dragon, the other seems to be a red iron dragon hybrid.”

“Most naturally wild hatchlings are arrogant and conceited, but this one is surprisingly cautious.”

Olaf chuckled and scratched the scar on his face.

“The red dragon’s testicles can brew a potent aphrodisiac ale for secondary development. The hybrid red dragon should be the same. I’ve never tasted it before. If we catch a hatchling this time, I’m definitely going to try it!”

The dwarf alchemist shook his head.

“Probably not that simple.”

He then shook his beard, and a swarm of bee-like creatures emerged from the thick beard, buzzing as they scattered in all directions, hovering and searching over the scorched and ashen Iron Fir Hills.

The cavalry and golems moved as well, stepping onto the scorched earth, searching for any signs of dragon presence.

The oil field garrison received fixed pay from the duchy.

But catching a hatchling would be an unexpected windfall, enough to exchange for countless bottles of potent ale.

Time passed bit by bit, but until evening, when moonlight poured down like water, the dwarves still hadn’t found anything valuable.

“Pull back and drink. This trip was wasted.”

Olaf said.

“Wait, you’re too impatient.”

The dwarf alchemist opened his palm.

Several bees circled and placed a tiny black-gray scale fragment in his palm.

“It’s cautious, but burning the mountain with raging fire couldn’t destroy every trace. At least, this scale fragment might help me guide us roughly to its location.”

Olaf laughed heartily, pulling out a rugged copper cup, filling it with black rye beer, and splashing it onto the scorched earth.

“To you, cunning little dragon! This cup of beer celebrates your bones becoming my new pipe! Celebrates your testicles becoming my aphrodisiac ale!”

Toasting the enemy before battle was an ancient tradition of the Blackrock Duchy.

Turning to the dwarf alchemist, Olaf excitedly said, “Quick, locate its position! I can’t wait.”

The dwarf alchemist shook his head, disdainfully saying,

“The hatchling burned the mountain and hills, leaving only this tiny scale fragment. Do you really think it’s a good medium? I said ‘might,’ do you understand? It’s not certain. I need time to prepare and can’t guarantee success.”

Olaf spat again and rolled his eyes at the sorcerer.

“Then tell me what! You’re wasting my black rye beer!”

“Let’s go, lads, back we go!”

After a full day of fruitless work, the dwarves retreated back to the oil field garrison under the moonlight.

The scolded dwarf alchemist didn’t argue. He examined the scale fragment a few more times and then tucked it into his robes.