Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

Chapter 501: This time, I will personally ignite the flames, letting all nations burn for 15 years.

"Father! Wow, you've become even more majestic! The luster of these scales, this aura! I saw that huge fireball you created all the way from the royal city, it was so awesome!"

The voice of the Iron Dragon Ophelia rang out.

Compared to Garcro, her physique was several sizes smaller.

However, her posture was equally agile, her muscle lines well-proportioned yet powerful, and the golden patterns on her scales had become very distinct.

The young Iron Dragon directly flapped her wings, landing lightly on the platform edge beside the Red Emperor.

She naturally drew close, nestling against Garoth's magnificent body.

She affectionately rubbed her faceplate and dragon horn against the Dragon Father's arm guards, emitting a satisfied purring sound: "Although it's been decades since we last met, you've always been in my heart, occupying the highest position, no one else!"

Immediately, her gaze shifted, landing longingly on the pile of sparkling gems in front of the Red Emperor.

Garoth chuckled softly.

He extended a claw, fished out a few moderately sized gems from the pile of snacks, and pushed them towards her."Take them to play with."

The little Iron Dragon got her wish, joyfully scooping up those shiny treasures with her claws, hugging them tightly to her chest, the scales on her cheeks even opening slightly with happiness.

"Thank you, Father! Father is the best!"

Below, the Red Dragon Garcro watched this scene, a flash of envy passing through his eyes.

He envied Ophelia for getting the gems, and also envied her ability to be so unrestrainedly close to the Dragon Father.

He himself could absolutely never act so coquettishly.

"Maybe... I should try too, learn from Ophelia, and act coquettish with Father?"

An absurd thought suddenly popped up. Garcro imagined himself snuggling up to Father, rubbing his head, and saying in his deep voice, "Father is the best"...

Hiss—!

The young Red Dragon's scales nearly stood on end right then and there. An intense feeling of awkwardness swept through his entire body, making him quickly shake this terrifying thought out of his mind.

Too scary for a dragon.

Just then, he felt a gaze from the direction of the throne.

"Garcro."

"I'm here, Father."

The young Red Dragon immediately composed himself, straightening his posture.

"I see the Battle-Hardened Patterns on your body."

Garoth said, his tone even, "Good. This proves you haven't wasted your time, haven't betrayed your bloodline or my expectations. You are walking the right path."

Garcro's heart gave a powerful thump.

Receiving such direct affirmation from the Dragon Father invigorated him more than acquiring treasure.

"Catch."

"This is the reward for your efforts up to now."

Several fire-element gems beloved by Red Dragons traced graceful parabolas through the air, flying towards Garcro.

Garcro was momentarily stunned, then hurriedly extended his claws, carefully catching them.

He opened his maw wide, revealing sharp fangs, a joyful smile blooming across his face.

"Thank you for your reward, Father! I will continue forward, never betraying your recognition!"

Garcro's booming voice rang out.

Garoth surveyed the hall, his gaze sweeping over the assembled dragons, then returned to Garcro, asking, "Where are your other siblings?"

"Laria, Isanora, and... Salia."

Hearing the Dragon Father inquire about his other offspring, Garcro lowered his head and replied, "Reporting to Father, after entering the youth phase, Laria left the kingdom alone."

"He said... he wanted to emulate the path you walked in the past."

"Starting from nothing, relying on his own wisdom and strength, first conquer and rule some scattered clans and tribes, then step by step, build a dragon nation belonging to him with his own hands."

"As for my younger sister Isanora, she returned to the Vophal Dragon Domain with Mother."

"As for Salia..." Garcro paused, then said, "She is still in the Permafrost Tundra of the northern border. She said the harsh environment there and the recently active Abyssal Rifts are the best places to temper will and body. So she resides on the edge of the Abyssal Rift affected zone, training herself by hunting demons."

Indeed... his earlier feeling was correct.

The seemingly steady, rational, and thoughtful Red Dragon Laria was actually the most ambitious among his offspring, and he would truly put it into practice, not just talk.

Just then, a whisper sounded in his mind. It was the voice of the Iron Dragon Sorog.

"That kid Laria, he's currently in an unclaimed territory bordering the goblin kingdom of Matna. He's occupied a few easily defensible mountain peaks as his territory, declared himself the Crimson Lotus Lord, and gathered around three thousand followers under his command, mainly gnolls, goblins, and a small number of ogres and orcs he beat into submission."

"Also, his territory is within the routine monitoring range of our magical satellites."

Garoth tilted his head slightly, his gaze shifting to his right side.

His brother, the Iron Dragon Sorog, while conversing with him mentally, was placing a giant cream cake decorated with berries and honey into his mouth, savoring it carefully.

Garoth asked in his mind, "You're keeping an eye on him in secret?"

Sorog responded, "Of course. Laria is my nephew after all, carrying blood similar to mine."

"And... I admire his ambition and drive. It reminds me of you in your youth, and myself."

"So, I keep a bit of an eye on him. I'm also curious what achievements he can attain alone. Of course, just watching. Unless absolutely necessary, I won't intervene directly. This is his own trial."

A flicker of understanding passed through Garoth's eyes.

After brief consideration, he said to Sorog in his mind, "When necessary, you can lend him a hand. But aside from that, let him forge his own path."

"This is the road he chose."

"Understood." Sorog responded succinctly, taking another big bite of cake. "I know the proper limits. You can't grow a tree that can withstand wind and snow in a greenhouse."

Garoth withdrew his gaze, looking back at the celebratory scene in the hall, though his thoughts subtly shifted.

As time passed, his descendants would only increase in number, branching out, with generation after generation being born and growing.

By then, he might only pay significant attention to those offspring who displayed extraordinary talent, achieved astonishing feats, or were at critical junctures.

He didn't intend to interfere too much with the paths these descendants chose for themselves.

Dragon life is long, and future possibilities are diverse.

Providing basic guidance, then letting them fly on their own, find their own sky—perhaps that is the way more suited to a dragon family.

Garoth picked up an ingot of adamantine, tossed it into his mouth, and chewed slowly, making a crunching sound.

His gaze swept over the area below.

Garcro had already returned to his seat.

While enjoying the delicacies, his claws kept opening and closing, the muscles on his dragon arms rising and falling accordingly.

Even during the banquet, the Red Dragon Garcro did not forget to train.

Ophelia lay beside her elder brother, happily fiddling with the gems Father had just given her, occasionally picking one up to look at against the firelight, emitting satisfied murmurs.

In the blink of an eye, ten days had passed.

The dragons' feast was gradually reaching its end, yet it hadn't truly concluded.

However, the atmosphere within the great hall was completely different from the beginning.

The dragons and lords were no longer focused solely on the delicacies before them, nor immersed in the attendants' performances. Instead, they gathered in twos and threes, conversing in low voices, occasionally glancing towards the majestic figure of the Red Emperor.

Garoth stretched his dragon neck, his joints emitting slight cracking sounds.

Ten consecutive days of eating and resting had elevated his condition to its peak.

Then, his gaze fell upon the Iron Dragon Sorog.

Noticing his brother's line of sight, Sorog barely paused before skillfully constructing a network of mental links. Then, at Garoth's indication, this link extended towards the other end of the hall.

The Red Dragon Samantha was lowering her head, whispering something with her Red Dragon nephew.

When the link was established, within the mental network of the three dragons, the flow of time seemed to slow. The external clamor turned into a blurred background noise, like hearing rain through thick glass.

Garoth's voice slowly sounded in their consciousness.

"Sorog, Samantha. You have both touched the barrier of level twenty. Gordon in the Lothrian Kingdom is likely the same. The legendary realm seems close at hand, yet distant as the stars."

He paused slightly, then said, "In the Vophal Dragon Domain, I hold one opportunity to use the 'Eternal Tide'."

"For a dragon stuck at the limit, it is a key, allowing a dragon to truly step into the legendary domain."

Hearing this, Sorog's consciousness transmitted a fluctuation: "I know of this wonderland. Recently, Deborah, Alberto, and Nasha successively returned to the Vophal Dragon Domain. From their words, I deduced it was precisely to use the Tide's power to break through to legend."

In the Vophal Dragon Domain, Metal Dragons who have reached the level twenty limit do have the opportunity to use the Eternal Tide to impact the legendary realm.

But the opportunity is not free. Even among kin, a price must be paid.

Either performing dangerous tasks for the Dragon Domain, expelling powerful enemies, or offering up enough treasure to fill a cavern.

Garoth continued, "I have decided to grant this opportunity first to you, Sorog."

"After you step into legend, you can better manage the kingdom and deal with possible future storms. As for you, Samantha, you won't have to wait long. I will contact the elders of the Vophal Dragon Domain to exchange for more slots. It's just a matter of tasks, or treasure."

He is not a formal member of the Vophal Dragon Domain, but he has a good relationship with it.

The Metal Dragon elders had clearly stated they wouldn't mind giving Garoth additional slots, provided he could complete certain tasks assigned by the Dragon Domain, or offer up treasure of sufficient weight.

If choosing the latter, the required amount would be far greater than what an ordinary Metal Dragon needs.

But Garoth was not worried about this.

As the ruler of a kingdom, his treasure vault was unfathomably deep.

Moreover, his resistance to the allure of treasure had been tempered to steel-like hardness over more than a hundred years.

Using gold and gems to exchange for a blood relative's ascension to legend? That was a more than worthwhile trade.

As for the other blood relative, the Iron Dragon Gordon...

His situation in the Lothrian Kingdom was somewhat delicate.

If he rashly ascended to legend, even with the connection to the Crystal Princess, even having grown up in the royal court since childhood and being seen as "half a Lothrian dragon," his identity would immediately become sensitive.

The influence of a legendary dragon is too immense. A human kingdom would not allow such an existence to remain long-term.

They would either find a way to fully incorporate him as a royal vassal, or impose layer upon layer of restrictions and constant vigilance.

Otherwise, if a legendary dragon suddenly went berserk, it could cause catastrophic destruction.

Perhaps... it was time for Gordon to return.

Garoth thought.

Back then, letting him stay in Lothrian was a decision based on multiple considerations.

To solidify the alliance, demonstrate trust, and also place a pair of eyes beside the southern hegemon for Aola.

Now times have changed. Aola is no longer that newborn kingdom needing Lothrian's support. Beneath the surface harmony of their relationship, undercurrents are growing increasingly turbulent.

Gordon's mission was, in fact, long completed. There was no need for him to remain in Lothrian any longer.

"Link Gordon in as well."

Garoth said, "It's time to hear his own thoughts."

Sorog didn't say much.

Tendrils of the mental network extended from his consciousness, guided by bloodline, winding their way across thousands of mountains and rivers towards the direction of the Lothrian Kingdom.

About half a minute later, a consciousness joined the network.

"Garoth! My dear elder brother, the great Red Emperor! You've finally awakened. I can feel that the still waters of the Romania nations are about to stir again because of your awakening!"

Gordon's consciousness transmitted excitement.

"Aola is holding a feast for my awakening. It hasn't ended yet, and your seat has remained empty."

Garoth responded calmly, then got straight to the point: "We are discussing matters of legend."

"Sorog will receive a breakthrough opportunity. Samantha is also in line. Gordon, you should have also touched the level twenty limit by now. Regarding the future, what are your plans?"

"You no longer need to stay in Lothrian. You can return to Aola at any time."

He threw the choice over.

The network fell into brief silence.

"Legend..."

Gordon's consciousness fluctuations gradually calmed: "Yes, I feel that barrier. Solid enough to give me a headache. But I have the same blood flowing in my veins as you—Ignas blood."

"Even if not as exceptionally talented as you, I have confidence that one day I can cross this barrier."

"Besides, I'm still young. I'm in no hurry about this."

He changed the subject: "As for returning to Aola... Brother, my thinking has changed over these years."

Garoth nodded slightly: "Tell me."

He noticed the change in Gordon's manner of speaking.

Time had passed. This blood relative, once the least clever, had indeed grown considerably. His tone now carried more steadiness and thoughtfulness.

"When Aola was first founded, I longed every moment to escape this exquisite, splendid cage, return to where dragons should dwell, soar the skies with you, and tear enemies apart with claws and fangs."

"I'd had enough of the complex rituals of the human court, grown weary of all that hypocrisy and pretense."

"But as years passed, I gradually gained a different... understanding."

Garoth's interest was piqued: "Explain in detail."

Gordon's consciousness rippled: "Brother, Sorog, Samantha, I have resided for a long time in a human nation, surrounded by short-lived races."

"I witnessed with my own eyes the aging and death of the previous king, O'Brien."

"I also witnessed Elina aging from a human girl, eventually transforming into a fire spirit. That was a transformation of essence, almost equivalent to death and rebirth."

"And more."

"There were nobles I once knew well, whose heirs grew up right before my eyes, inherited titles, and then had their own children. The people I was familiar with grew old one by one, passed away. New faces constantly emerged in the royal court."

"The Lothrian royal court is like a play. Roles change, masks shift, only the stage remains unchanged."

"Do you know what I have come to understand from all this?"

A brief pause, then Gordon's consciousness grew deeper: "Time. The power of time."

"For humans, twenty years is enough for an infant to grow into a youth, for black hair to be tinged with silver. A hundred years is enough for a family to rise and fall."

"Kings grow old and die."

"Nobles rise and fall. A family prominent today might vanish into obscurity tomorrow."

"But for me? Twenty years is just a slightly longer slumber. A hundred years is only a few pages in the long scroll of my life. My lifespan is still very long. Long enough to spend decades cultivating a relationship, a hundred years subtly influencing a family's philosophy of inheritance, even longer... weaving an invisible web."

The consciousness of the Red Dragon Samantha transmitted waves of confusion.

"So, what exactly do you want to do? Retire in Lothrian?"

Gordon laughed, voicing his idea. "I want to stay in Lothrian, using the vast scale of time to gradually permeate every corner of this nation."

"Through influence, guidance, subtle shaping. I want to become the uncrowned king of this land, to make Lothrian's future, unknowingly, flow in a direction favorable to us."

"This requires extreme patience."

"And I always remember your teachings, Garoth. I might not be clever enough, but I never lack patience."

Sorog's mental voice came calmly: "The human world is unpredictable."

"A single change of throne, a political purge, is enough to render decades of effort worthless. Moreover, how do you ensure that over the long years, you won't be assimilated by Lothrian's interests? When you share drinks with human nobles more often than you meet blood kin, when you start considering problems using their way of thinking, then, whose brother are you?"

Gordon's reply was resolute: "Because I will never forget what I am."

"When I look down upon those fleeting human faces, I always know: I am a dragon. I am your brother. This, time cannot erase."

Garoth had been listening quietly all along, only now speaking slowly.

"A long-term plan. Sounds quite feasible, utilizing the most fundamental advantage of dragons—long lifespan. But... I don't support it."

Gordon's consciousness clearly jolted.

He didn't rush to argue, only asked in confusion: "Why?"

Garoth grinned, an intangible smile transmitted through the network: "Because I have awakened. Because the peace between Aola and Lothrian might not last much longer."

Gordon instantly understood his meaning.

"Brother, you mean... to go to war with Lothrian?"

Garoth shook his head slightly: "No. Lothrian wants to go to war with us. And this war most likely cannot be avoided."

"Before that, you can continue your plan, find something to do. Perhaps... at a critical moment, your existence can have an unexpected effect."

The relationships among the Romania nations have never been static.

Alliances can be torn up, friendships betrayed. Today's ally may become tomorrow's mortal enemy.

All this, Garoth had long seen through.

The Aola Kingdom is ultimately not a nation dominated by humans. Its ruler is a dragon. Its core strength is the dragon flock. Such an existence, merely showing a hint of expansionist ambition, is enough to make all the human kingdoms of Romania lose sleep.

And Aola's expansion is inevitable.

The dragon flock's numbers are growing. Legendary dragons will emerge one after another. Garoth's own power is steadily increasing.

The kingdom's current territory and resources are gradually becoming insufficient to satisfy this ever-growing appetite.

If it does not expand outward, internal contradictions will accumulate and churn like subterranean magma, eventually erupting into a disaster that tears the kingdom apart. By then, without the existence of the kingdom's machinery, Garoth's growth speed would also inevitably slow significantly.

All along, his evolution talent primarily acted on changes to his essence.

The growth of his life level could not be separated from the support of vast resources.

Moreover, through some conversations with Sorog during the feast, Garoth already knew about the world changes during his slumber.

The advancing Orc Empire, and the meteor disaster that descended upon the Arotala Continent.

These all made him feel uneasy.

Thinking further of the Halden Empire's Abyssal Development Plan... Garoth's intuition told him this world might become quite dangerous in the future.

For this reason, he could not stop his steps towards becoming stronger.

"The suppression from the various nations will come soon, and we will definitely not sit idly by."

"Before that, we will strike first."

The Red Emperor slightly raised his head, his gaze seeming to penetrate the banquet hall walls, pass over undulating mountain ranges and winding rivers, fixing upon the vast southern lands.

"The first step: we will completely turn the entire Theo Kingdom into Aola's Theo. Not a nominal vassal, but true Aola territory. Make it part of us."

He said.

Once upon a time, in that war that swept the continent, he was at the mercy of circumstances, like duckweed drifting with the current, only able to strive for benefits for himself in the cracks.

But now, the flames of war would no longer be ignited by others.

This time, the one holding the torch would be himself.