Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

Chapter 493: Red Emperor: Become My Adopted Son or Daughter

The wind across the snowfield blew fiercely from the north, carrying ice crystals and a bone-chilling cold.

The red iron dragon spread his vast wings, cutting across the sky like a black-and-red meteor, but his flight was not fast; it could even be called slow.

Four hatchlings flew close behind.

Compared to their father's enormous body, their sizes looked particularly small.

"Father, it's so cold here."

Garcro raised his voice.

Not only Garcro, the other three also felt the bone-deep chill as their scales' gaps filtered the wind.

They shivered in the frigid air.

The four young dragons were excited.

They had never been recognized by their father like this before; being able to be acknowledged by him filled them with joy.Garoth's deep voice carried low and calm.

"In this place, you will learn—"

He glanced at them.

The four hatchlings straightened, energized.

They sensed that being able to gain their father's approval was tremendously important.

After a while, the sight ahead became clear.

There was a walled compound of dark stone, a broad training ground, and many structures of different shapes and sizes.

Isanora blinked.

She murmured softly to herself, "So noisy."

The red dragon Garcro beat his wings excitedly, darting forward in a short burst. "Finally I can see real Five-colored Dragons! The metal dragons in the Dragon Domain are too proper, always spouting order and honor. So boring."

Garoth did not respond to his children's chatter. He only adjusted his flight angle slightly, folded his wings, and dove toward the largest open ground at the center of the academy.

When he landed, his heavy body made the ground tremble. Snow scattered in all directions, revealing the frozen earth beneath.

The previously heated training scene on the field paused briefly.

Whether they were sparring, practicing breath attacks, or doing strength training, the young dragons stopped their actions.

Pairs of dragon pupils of varying colors all turned toward the landing figure.

When the young dragons saw their emperor, they quickly lowered their bodies, bowed their heads or necks, expressing the highest respect in true dragon fashion.

Garoth slowly scanned the surroundings.

Every dragon in view became even more reverent.

"Continue with your activities."

he said.

Hearing this, the young dragons resumed, but their movements were noticeably more vigorous and more focused.

The sounds of impact, the roar of breath attacks, the low growls when muscles flexed rose again, more intense than before. Each dragon seemed to be trying their hardest to show their best in front of the kingdom's emperor.

The four hatchlings, however, behaved differently.

They had never stood in such a position before, and their small forms made them particularly noticeable among the assembled Blue Dragons, Red Dragons, and others.

Nearby, one dragon's tail and the muscles along his back and flanks bulged like waves, the strain almost splitting the scales.

Laria even glanced sideways at him, admiring the fullness of his muscles.

Beside him, Garcro's eyes lit with excitement.

He loved scenes filled with raw strength: the clash of muscle, the deafening roars, the blatant competitive atmosphere. This was far more to his taste than the metal dragons' rigid training methods.

"My dear father."

He turned his head, his eyes shining, and asked, "Can I train here too? Like them?"

"Of course," Garoth replied, his gaze sweeping over his offspring.

"You will learn here how to become stronger, learn truly effective combat techniques, and… how to survive in this world."

At that moment, a crystalline white figure leapt down lightly from a tall observation tower to the side.

Her movement was smooth and agile, landing almost soundlessly.

White Dragon Trixie descended before Garoth. Her long, graceful neck bowed into a respectful posture. "Your Majesty, welcome to the academy."

Her voice was cool and steady.

Even facing the emperor, she showed no excessive humility or excitement, maintaining a composed respect.

Garoth nodded slightly. "Trixie, I have brought my children."

"Proceed as we discussed. From now on, in every seven-day cycle, they will spend six days under your care."

"By your will, Your Majesty."

Trixie turned her gaze to the four hatchlings, studying them closely one by one.

She had already learned from the emperor that these offspring possessed exceptional gifts, each with something peculiar.

Seeing them in person confirmed their differences.

It was more than their scale colors.

Trixie's mouth curved slightly.

"I am honored to see dragons who meet your expectations of outstanding quality."

Just then, Garcro lifted his head.

He sized her up.

"You're a white dragon?"

His tone carried disdain.

The young dragons watching the sudden confrontation on the training ground turned to look.

Trixie's expression remained composed for a moment.

She turned her head and fixed him with a gaze.

"Yes, I am Trixie, headmistress of Ignas Royal Dragon Academy."

"You are Garcro Ignas, the eldest son of His Majesty, right?"

"That's right!" Garcro puffed out his chest.

"Since you are a dragon born under my father, you should show me the proper respect. Also," he paused for emphasis, "you are only a white dragon. You should know your place."

The other three hatchlings showed similar emotions in their eyes though they did not speak.

A white dragon?

They had expected their instructor to be at least a mighty ancient red dragon. Instead it was a white dragon, clearly not even legendary by appearance.

"I don't understand why a white dragon can serve as a trainer for young dragons. This should be an important position."

Laria, usually composed, voiced his dissatisfaction.

The little iron dragon Ophelia muttered, "Yeah, I thought it would at least be a legendary dragon."

Silver dragon Isanora said nothing, but there was no respect or approval in her eyes.

Garoth stood like a silent mountain, watching without intending to intervene.

Trixie was silent for a moment.

Then she took a single, deliberately slow step forward.

That simple step instantly closed the distance between her and the hatchlings.

Until that moment, the hatchlings had still been proud. But in front of them, her shadow cast an invisible pressure.

"Your Highnesses," White Dragon Trixie opened her mouth.

She paused, her pupils steady.

"This academy is managed by the crown, and His Majesty entrusted me with its administration. That does not mean status alone commands respect."

The words hit Garcro's pride.

"You dare—"

A sudden, unnatural chill sliced through the air.

Garcro felt as if invisible hands had toyed with him. Leaves seemed to be manipulated by a cold hand even as they fluttered.

No matter how the hatchlings flapped or twisted, they could not break free.

The process lasted only a minute, but to the hatchlings it felt like an eternity.

The biting cold retreated abruptly. The four hatchlings fell like dumplings from several meters in the air and thudded onto the hard frozen ground and snow.

The strongest, Garcro, struggled to stand.

But severe dizziness and cold left his limbs weak. He tried to rise, knees wobbling, and finally collapsed onto the ground with a heavy thud.

Many Five-colored Dragon students around them watched and silently showed meaningful smiles.

Yet no dragon openly laughed.

After a while, when the hatchlings recovered enough to focus their eyes and control their bodies again, White Dragon Trixie spoke slowly.

"Now, young princes and princesses."

"Let's talk again about what respect is, and what position means."

She said, "Respect among dragons—especially among the Five-colored Dragons—has never been something you receive automatically because of bloodline. Respect is earned by strength, by achievements, by what you can actually do. You win it bit by bit."

"As for position,"

she lowered her head slightly, looking down at the still-shivering hatchlings up close, "your father is the Emperor of Aola, the ruler of this land, but that does not make you the emperor. At least, not yet."

"In this academy,"

she continued calmly, "I am the head. The standards here are not about pedigree; they are about competence."

She looked at the hatchlings' flushed faces.

"You want to retaliate because you feel humiliated by being overthrown by a white dragon you deem low status? Fine."

But she did not seem interested in their protests.

Garoth watched quietly; his warning glance had made them hesitate.

They could only rely on themselves here.

"I will not fight your battles for you," Trixie said.

"This is not a sanctuary for pampered hatchlings."

"Angry? Humiliated?"

Trixie asked at the right moment. "Is being easily subdued and toyed with by what you consider a low-status white dragon unbearable?"

The hatchlings did not answer.

Their expressions, tensed bodies, and slightly raised scales said everything.

"Good." Trixie nodded, satisfied.

"Remember this feeling. Keep it locked in your minds. Then bring that feeling to your first formal lesson at the academy."

Her gaze swept over all the young dragons present, including the four new Ignas hatchlings and those already training.

"All dragons, assemble!"

The command was brief. The young dragons stopped training and quickly gathered before the observation platform, forming a relatively tidy line.

Their movements were swift and orderly, clearly accustomed to such commands.

The four hatchlings hesitated, but at Garoth's glance they moved to the front of the line.

Trixie leapt up to the observation platform and looked down on the assembled young dragons from above.

Her body stood tall against the wind and snow; her crystalline white scales shimmered with a cold radiance.

"What just happened, you all witnessed," the headmistress said. "These new students, these noble-born princes and princesses, assumed that their bloodline automatically grants them respect beyond their actual ability. They were taught a lesson."

Her gaze landed on Garcro, who held his neck stiffly in a stare.

"Prince Garcro,"

Trixie said evenly, "I do not doubt that in decades, you may become overwhelmingly powerful."

Garcro snorted inwardly.

He thought, of course. Father will always praise our noble birth in public—he can't help showing off our pedigree.

But the Red Emperor's next words stunned her and every dragon present.

"In this world, nothing is guaranteed—not your bloodline, not your identity."

"To hold your position, you must defend it with growing strength. To earn respect from other dragons, you must prove yourself in battle, again and again."

"Therefore, from this moment on, within this academy, my four offspring will be merely students."

"They are no different in essence from you."

"They will follow the same rules, undergo the same training, and face the same challenges."

The Red Emperor paused, then delivered a more shocking proclamation.

"Instead, I will grant all of you young dragons in this academy a privilege."

"At the end of each academic year," he said clearly, "any one of you may issue an official challenge to any one of my four offspring."

"The challenge will take place under academy supervision. The academy will set the specific rules to ensure basic fairness and safety."

"If you defeat any one of them in such a challenge," the emperor's gaze sharpened, "no matter what tactics or methods you used, as long as they conform to the rules, you will win my recognition."

"Even if you do not win,"

he continued, "if you show enough courage, wisdom, perseverance, or some remarkable trait during the challenge, you will likewise have a chance to gain my recognition."

When Garoth spoke those words, many pairs of eyes lit up with examination and yearning.

They could not hide their desire to prove themselves.

The Red Iron Dragon looked at them.

"This means—"

The process of proving oneself will never be easy.

Garcro nodded heavily, a fiercer blaze igniting in his eyes than before.

He lowed, "Father! I promise you! Any fool who dares challenge me will only find failure here! I will defeat every opponent! I will be your strongest descendant! Forever!"

The other three hatchlings did not shout vows as loudly as Garcro, but their expressions had changed completely.

The previous laxness and superiority born of birth vanished without a trace, replaced by urgency, focus, seriousness, and surging fighting spirit.

They had not come to this academy simply to learn.

They had come to fight—to defend their status, prove their value, and not disgrace their bloodline.

The red iron dragon turned to Trixie. "This rule takes effect immediately."

The white dragon bowed her head. "As you command, great Ignas His Majesty."

Then Garoth looked at his four hatchlings and showed a grin.

"My offspring, welcome to the real world. It is cruel, but I believe you will grow to love it."