novelraw Chapter 492: Filial Slaying and Patricide, the Atrocious Red Emperor
Chapter 492: Filial Slaying and Patricide, the Atrocious Red Emperor
Laria took advantage of the moment and wouldn’t let the dragon go. His hardened claws, like iron pincers, grabbed Garcro’s tail, claws digging deep into the gaps between scales, locking him firmly.
His whole body exploded with power, his waist and hind limbs driving in tandem, the red lotus patterns across his skin flashing wildly.
"Brother, fly!"
Laria yanked the red dragon’s tail, spinning the much larger Garcro around.
His wings spread to the limit, his body rotated, using the tail as a fulcrum, and Garcro’s body carved a huge arc through the air.
He didn’t choose to slam Garcro hard into the ground. Instead, riding the rotational force, he hurled Garcro’s heavy body like a thrown boulder, fiercely flinging him toward Ophelia not far away.
The throw was precise and ferocious—Garcro became a living projectile.
Ophelia was slightly surprised.
The battle had shifted so suddenly. With the red dragon’s bulk screaming toward her and the silver dragon’s interference nearby, there was almost nowhere to dodge.
She rapidly calculated angles and distance, but there was barely any time.At the critical instant,
several thin, dazzling streaks of golden electricity shot out from the gaps between Ophelia’s scales.
Crackling!
The electric light wrapped around her body with sharp detonations.
She instantaneously unleashed incredible power and speed, her silhouette blurring within the electricity, as if teleporting, springing a short distance to the rear-left and brushing past the falling Garcro. The electricity trailed golden afterimages behind her.
Boom!
Garcro slammed heavily into the ground, dust clouds rising.
He hit with a muffled roar, sliding along the surface for a stretch before stopping, his scales dust-streaked.
At the same moment Ophelia landed,
Isanora opened her eyes, revealing a sharp gaze.
Her wings stretched to the limit, her long, graceful body becoming a silver bolt of lightning. Moving in a much faster straight line than Ophelia, she sliced past in an instant.
The silver dragon’s motion was too fast to clearly see—only a streak of silver passed by.
Her forelimbs, covered in dense silver scales, carried a layer of biting cold that struck Ophelia. On contact the cold burst, condensing tiny ice crystals in the air.
Crack!
A crisp, brittle sound, like ice fracturing.
"Aah!"
Ophelia let out a short cry of pain. The blow sent her flying sideways; she rolled several times on the ground before stopping. Her left wing hung oddly, clearly badly injured, making it hard for her to get up.
Frost coated her scales, and each breath she exhaled became white mist.
"Bad, bad, bad."
"You said, Red Lotus Form Yan, that if he hid in front of you he couldn't—just wait obediently, leave the next part to me."
Garcro shook his head and stood up again.
He shook dust from his body and flexed his limbs. Though the fall had been heavy, it hadn’t caused any real damage.
He looked at his two blood kin and grinned: "The real fight is only starting now. I will beat you both alone."
Garcro’s body was far stronger than a typical red dragon’s. Laria’s unexpected burst had surprised him, but it hadn’t truly troubled him.
The muscles under his scales tensed, ready for the next round.
"Brother, I’m probably no match for you."
"But using numbers to bully the few... I hope you’re ready to meet defeat."
Laria stood in place, clusters of seductive red-lotus flames burning across his body.
Those flames leaped across his scales without burning him, instead driving the surrounding air temperature sharply up. The silver dragon Isanora hovered midair, her wingtips trailing twin streaks—the traces of condensed cold.
The battle resumed, but the situation had already changed.
Ten minutes later.
"Huff huff huff huff..."
Heavy breathing echoed across the platform.
Garcro’s chest heaved violently; his scales were already streaked with claw marks, yet he stood firm. A deep gouge ran across his faceplate, and beads of blood seeped from the gaps in his scales, but he paid it no mind.
Opposite him were the exhausted red dragon Laria and the silver dragon Isanora.
Laria’s red-lotus patterns had already extinguished; weakness pulsed through him.
Hardened Body and Crimson Lotus Form had drained far more than expected—his limbs trembled, and he could barely stand.
Isanora still had considerable stamina, but she too found it hard to defeat Garcro. Her attacks left only shallow marks on his tough scales, and her strength was steadily being sapped.
Among the Red Emperor’s four sons, the eldest prides himself on strength and inherited his greatest power.
Besides the Dragon Pearl, he also inherited some physical attributes from the Red Emperor; despite his youth, his defense and endurance far surpassed contemporaries.
Garcro’s scales were unusually dense, his muscle structure tightly knit, able to withstand blows far beyond other dragons his age.
Laria possessed iron-dragon quasi-spell skills and could erupt in Crimson Lotus Form—this combination gave him explosive combat strength for short periods, enough to suppress Garcro for a time.
Unfortunately, it still couldn’t defeat Garcro quickly.
When a burst phase ends, fatigue and weakness rush in like tides.
When his Crimson Lotus Form faded, Garcro still stood, still capable of fighting, scarred but with his deep-red eyes still burning with resolve.
Besides, this guy had a Dragon Pearl.
"Alright, game over. Let’s stop here."
Samantha’s voice came slowly. She stood up and stretched her wings.
"The Red Dragon Queen’s gift: first round winners—Garcro and Ophelia. They’ll receive shining gems as prizes. Laria and Isanora, don’t be discouraged, keep trying."
She handed rewards to the two hatchlings in turn, pulling gems from a spatial item and giving them to the young dragons.
The hatchlings cradled the gems, eyes glittering; their fatigue seemed to vanish.
"I feel like I didn’t do anything."
The little iron dragon took the gem with delight, holding it carefully in his claws, then ran to show the little silver dragon: "Isanora, look—such a beautiful, shining gem. Do you want it?"
He deliberately raised the gem so the sunlight refracted into colorful patterns.
"You literally just lay there and won..."
Isanora murmured enviously, shutting her eyes and refusing to look at the little iron dragon’s jewel.
On the other side, Garcro accepted the ruby and carefully tucked it under his scales. He held his head high, letting his inner light sweep over the other hatchlings before stopping on Laria.
"Tactics? Tricks?"
He looked at the other red hatchling. "Laria, my brother, listen up."
"In front of true power, everything else is merely decoration. Only your own strength matters. Strength—that is the sole reason we can rule."
Garcro puffed up and made his victory speech.
His tail rose proudly, and he felt triumphant.
Slap!
An adult red dragon’s claw landed, pinning Garcro motionless.
Samantha’s claw, heavy as a mountain, pressed on his back with perfect control—enough to hold him without hurting him but preventing escape.
Samantha glared at him, vertical pupils flashing dangerous light. "A little hatchling whose scales haven’t hardened yet, dreaming of being king?"
This time Garcro didn’t struggle as he had before. He obediently lay still under his aunt’s claw, not resisting.
He had learned to curb himself—at least when facing an obviously superior opponent.
Seeing this, Samantha suddenly laughed, the expression shifting so quickly the hatchlings were puzzled.
She smacked her lips and said, "Not bad. Pity... I’d like to kill you once and see, Garcro. I liked your unruly face before—shall I give auntie a chance?"
Her tone was half-joke, half-serious, leaving Garcro uncertain.
The little red dragon instinctively wanted to snap back but restrained himself.
He remembered his father’s earlier lessons: sometimes restraining one’s edge is wise.
The Dragon Pearl’s presence has many advantages.
But it also has drawbacks.
For example, when elders discipline you, they hit hard—knowing you have a Dragon Pearl safety net, elders won’t hold back.
Samantha shook her head, bored, and withdrew her claw.
She looked around at all the hatchlings, smiling: "My games won’t be only one round; the formats will vary. Those who perform well will at least get gem rewards, and when I’m in a good mood, I like to scatter gems."
"So, little ones, look forward to it, and try to please me."
No sooner had she finished than the four hatchlings crowded around her.
They formed a circle around the great red dragon, eyes glittering with greed for treasure.
"Aunt Samantha—no, great Red Dragon Queen—you are my ideal."
Ophelia spoke in the sweetest voice.
"Look at your scales, a bit dusty; let me wipe them." Garcro and Isanora carefully brushed dust from Samantha’s shoulder scales with their claws.
"Auntie, your muscles are a bit tense—let me massage your tail."
Laria gently tapped Samantha’s tail with his foreclaw.
Flattery, scale-wiping, tail-massaging.
The hatchlings used every trick to win gems from the great red dragon.
Samantha hummed contentedly among the adulation, the tip of her tail swaying lightly, enjoying being fawned over.
"Auntie, what do you think... of my combat talent?"
Garcro, polishing the great red dragon’s scales, asked with a hint of expectation.
Samantha’s deep-red eyes studied her nephew, lingering for a moment on his scars and sturdy body.
"Honestly, very good. Most importantly, you remind me of another powerful red dragon."
She paused deliberately, teasing him.
Watching the curiosity kindle in Garcro’s eyes brought her joy.
"A powerful red dragon? Who?"
Garcro pressed, his tail involuntarily lifting.
He tried to stay composed, but eagerness tinged his voice.
"My father—your grandfather—Gorthax. He wasn’t an ordinary red dragon; he had a fearsome reputation. He pursued power relentlessly—an outright evil dragon."
Samantha’s tone turned distant, as if recalling long-ago events.
Her gaze drifted toward the distant mountains shrouded in mist.
Hearing this, Garcro immediately brightened, taking it for praise and puffing his chest higher.
"Really?"
Garcro’s eyes shone; the deep-red pupils widened slightly from excitement. "Am I really like grandfather?"
"Yes, very much like him. You’re all obsessed with pursuing strength."
Samantha nodded seriously, scrutinizing the little red dragon.
"Even your scale color is similar: dark red with blackened edges, like cooled lava. Gorthax’s scales looked like that, only heavier—he lived longer. Your scales will reflect the same dark-red sheen in sunlight, with near-black edging."
Garcro’s chest swelled further.
To be compared to a powerful red-predecessor made him proud.
He began imagining the grandfather he’d never met as a mountainous colossus whose breath was volcanic and whose outstretched wings could blot out the sky.
But he had doubts.
"Why have I never met this red grandfather? Mother never mentioned him."
Samantha’s expression turned mocking, her mouth curling into a dangerous smile.
"Because he’s dead. Killed."
At her words Garcro’s face darkened.
The other three hatchlings pricked their ears and paused, focusing.
Garcro asked angrily, "How did he die? Who killed him?"
Samantha chuckled lightly: "What, you want to do something about it?"
Garcro’s eyes flashed with ferocity: "When I grow up, I’ll avenge grandfather! I’ll make them know the Red Dragon’s might."
Having been raised under dragon-domain education, Garcro’s sense of family differed from ordinary red dragons’. Influenced by a metal-dragon mother, he valued family bonds and believed kin should help one another.
Hearing that his most similar ancestor had been killed, he flew into rage.
Though he’d never met the man, the blood bond instinctively filled him with fury. His claws dug into the ground and his nostrils flared sparks.
Ophelia’s ears perked, Isanora stopped yawning, and Laria’s gaze sharpened.
They were all curious—the story pierced a family secret never mentioned before.
Samantha grinned wider, baring sharp teeth.
"Killed by your father," she said.
Casual, as if remarking on "nice weather."
Silence froze.
Garcro’s expression locked; his eyes widened. He opened his mouth but no sound came, as if his throat were blocked.
The other hatchlings were stunned, exchanging looks as if they’d misheard.
After a long while, the little iron dragon Ophelia stammered: "B-b-by our father?"
"Yes."
Samantha nodded, still with a light tone as if telling an ordinary anecdote.
"Garoth ripped out his heart, crushed it in his claws right before his eyes. But he didn’t die then, so your father tore off his head, taking it as a trophy—completely finishing him off."
She described it in vivid detail.
"W-why? Didn’t father teach us to value kin?"
The hatchlings murmured, voices full of confusion.
Their education hadn’t stressed kindness, but like their mother had, their father emphasized the importance of family bonds and kinship.
Yet he had killed his own father?
Samantha shrugged, her wings fluttering.
"You were born into privileged circumstances—protected by a metal-dragon mother, with the great dragon emperor as your father. You don’t have to worry about survival or whether you’ll see the sun tomorrow."
"But your father didn’t have such conditions."
"In the perilous times of the wilderness, if you stand in my way, I remove you—father and son mean nothing."
"So, little ones, be grateful for your origins; you don’t need to experience that kind of choice."
At that moment,
a shadow fell over the platform.
A huge, oppressive shadow.
All the dragons looked up together.
Garoth Ignas descended from the sky.
The red-iron colossus loomed like a mountain range; his dark-red and deep-black interwoven scales shone with cold hardness.
He unfurled his wings fully, slowing his descent, then landed steadily, the ground shuddering.
The arrival of the red-iron dragon made the air heavy; the hatchlings involuntarily shrank back.
"My dear brother, I was telling the children stories about you."
Samantha smiled mischievously. "Some stories the metal dragons might not have mentioned."
Garoth nodded. His inner light was calm as still water, betraying no emotion. Then he lowered his gaze to his eldest son.
"Garcro, do you want to avenge Gorthax?"
His voice was deep and steady, as if asking a simple question.
At his father’s inner light, Garcro flinched and trembled, tail pressed to the ground. Memories of his neck being broken flickered back, remembering his father easily overwhelming him.
"No, no, I was just talking nonsense."
He shook his head like a rattle, eyes averted—too afraid to meet his father’s gaze. The memory of having his neck snapped still haunted him, and Garcro’s fear of the red-iron dragon father’s absolute power was deeply imprinted.
Now he also knew the dragon father had personally killed his grandfather.
Those two facts combined into a terrifying image: if he resembled Gorthax, might he one day suffer the same fate?
The thought froze him with fear.
Garoth looked at his eldest son for several seconds; that brief span felt endless to Garcro. Then the red-iron dragon extended a massive claw.
The huge talon hung above the hatchling’s head—razor-sharp and strong enough to pierce the hardest rock.
The shadow covered Garcro, making him feel the whole world shrink until only the looming claw remained.
He could see faint marks at the claw’s tip, scars of countless battles.
The red hatchling froze completely, nearly ceasing to breathe.
He closed his eyes, bracing for the punishment that might fall.
But the talon only tapped gently.
The claw point pressed against Garcro’s forehead with perfect force, causing his head to jerk back slightly, lifting his chin without toppling him or causing pain.
"Garcro, I saw your performance just now."
Garoth said slowly, his tone calm, the previous majesty softened into something almost... approving.
"Strength as the reason to rule... that’s a fine saying."
He paused, then shifted his point: "But mastering strength with wisdom is more important than mere brute power."
Then Garoth turned his words, "Compared to the dead Gorthax, you actually resemble me more, which is why my expectations for you are strict."
"Because... Garcro, my eldest son, I have great hopes for you."
His inner light settled on the young dragon.
Hearing this, Garcro blankly lifted his head and finally dared to look into those deep eyes.
In them he saw calm and examination.
To be relied upon... When he realized what his father’s words truly implied, a blazing, unprecedented light ignited in his deep-red eyes.
It wasn’t the fire of anger or belligerence, but the joy of being recognized and expected to do great things.
"I... I understand."
"My dear father, I will not disappoint you. I will make you proud of me."
The young red dragon spoke softly, his voice steadier now, mingling reverence and admiration.
He straightened, still small before his massive father but with new determination in his posture.
Garoth slightly nodded and withdrew his talon.
He didn’t rely solely on fear to make his offspring obedient.
Overly compliant children were not what Garoth desired. He wanted successors who could think independently and have their own will—not puppets on strings.
Even if that will occasionally ran contrary to his expectations, it was acceptable so long as there were no grave problems.
"All come with me. I’ll take you to a place."
He said this as his huge wings slowly spread, the wing membranes displaying complex patterns of dark red and deep gray under the sun.
"What place?"
The little iron dragon Ophelia asked curiously, momentarily forgetting wing pain.
Garoth answered patiently: "A place with many hatchlings your age, but they are not metal dragons—mostly Five-colored Dragons.
"When the four of you were in the dragon domains, you interacted a lot with metal dragons.
"Your playmates were mostly metal-dragon offspring, and your education leaned toward metal-dragon values.
"Order, kindness, responsibility... aside from whether you agree, you should know more dragons.
"As descendants of the red-iron dragon, you are destined to walk between two worlds—neither wholly in the metal dragon camp nor wholly in the Five-colored Dragon camp.
"This unique identity requires distinct awareness and preparation.
"Education during the hatchling stage is crucial. Before I sleep, I want to shape your values and worldview. I don’t want to wake and find four unruly, rebellious young dragons."