The Fiery Crown Cycle: A Dragon's Rebirth

Chapter 148

"Great Red Dragon, the tribe submits. We seek the shadow of your wings."

The second goblin on the right spoke, his voice trembling but intelligible.

Azure observed the creature with detached clinical interest. To the untrained eye, goblins were an indistinguishable mass of warts and malice, but these four were different. They spoke the Common Tongue fluently. Their posture suggested a higher cognitive function.

Variants.

High intelligence.

Her focus sharpened, the azure glow of her eyes intensifying. A spark of morbid curiosity ignited within her mind.

I want to understand their biology. Did these "semi-awakened" specimens possess a different cranial structure than their feral kin? Vivisection seemed the only logical path to an answer.

While the Blue Dragon pondered anatomy, Bianca was lost in a haze of old grudges.

As she stared at the four Elders, the memory of humiliation surfaced. These wretched runts had tricked her before. The "Great White Dragon" Bianca did not forgive, and she certainly did not forget. Pure, unadulterated malice flooded her gaze.

Liars. Food. Die.

She shifted her weight, her ivory claws digging silently into the turf. She began to creep forward, low to the ground, a stalking predator ready to pounce.

Aiden, however, was already aware.

His peripheral vision caught the subtle movement of his foolish sister. He saw the murder in her eyes. These four were clearly leadership caste—special assets. He couldn't let her waste them just to satisfy a tantrum.

Aiden raised a massive crimson foreleg.

Wham.

His claw slammed down onto the White Dragon’s back with the force of a falling portcullis. The impact drove Bianca flat against the earth, knocking the wind out of her.

Instinct overrode logic. Bianca whipped her head around and clamped her jaws onto the limb pinning her down.

Hard. It was like biting into an enchanted breastplate.

Her fangs skidded uselessly against the scales. A split second later, the scent of brimstone registered. She realized she was gnawing on Aiden.

Her eyes went wide.

Crack!

Aiden’s tail lashed out, striking her skull with a precise, brutal whip-crack. Bianca’s head bobbed once, her eyes rolled back, and she slumped face-first into the grass, out cold.

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Azure watched the domestic violence unfold without blinking.

Aiden evidently wanted these ugly things alive.

Seeing her sister unconscious, the Blue Dragon wisely suppressed her urge to dissect the goblins immediately.

Aiden ignored his siblings. He withdrew his claw from Bianca’s back and turned his burning gaze toward the four goblins cowering in the grass.

His tail, long and sinuous, blurred into motion.

Smash.

A wooden crate sitting near Aiden’s feet exploded into splinters.

The contents spilled out—coils of metal, no thicker than wire, roughly the circumference of a basketball. Each band was etched with microscopic, glowing script.

[Rings of Enslavement]

Aiden’s tail swept through the pile, isolating a single green gemstone that had rolled free. He inspected it. It was the size of a chicken egg, unremarkably dull. The master controller.

With a dismissive flick, he swept the pile of metal bands toward the goblins.

Clatter.

The Rings of Enslavement landed in a heap before the four Elders. The sound was distinct—the chime of magical metal—but to the goblins, it sounded like a death knell.

The Elders stared at the rings, their yellow eyes widening in horror.

They had assumed "surrender" meant feudal vassalage—paying tribute, providing food. They hadn't expected this.

A dragon shouldn't possess this many Rings of Enslavement. It implied he had raided a high-level slaver caravan or a magical guild.

This was absolute domination.

They hesitated. Their bodies shook uncontrollably.

Aiden saw the hesitation. He saw the calculation in their eyes.

These ugly, cunning little wretches. They think they have a choice.

The Red Dragon bared his teeth, smoke curling from his nostrils.

"Well?" Aiden’s voice was a deep, tectonic rumble that vibrated in their chests. "Pick one. Put it on."

The Elders flinched, but still, they froze, paralyzed by the permanence of the act.

Aiden’s patience evaporated.

"Are you testing my mercy?"

Magic flared red in his palm. The controller gem vanished into his inventory. In the same motion, his tail became a red blur.

Boom.

The earth erupted. A crater appeared where the ground had been a moment before.

A scream tore through the air. The goblin on the far left collapsed, clutching a stump where his leg had been reduced to a paste of meat and dark green ichor.

The remaining three Elders didn't need another prompt.

Terror overriding dignity, they scrambled for the pile. Hands shaking, they snatched up the Rings of Enslavement and forced them over their heads.

The moment the metal touched their necks, the bands glowed silver. They shrank instantly, cinching tight against the loose, warty skin of their throats. The magic settled, binding their wills to the gemstone in Aiden's possession.

Aiden watched with satisfaction.

Goblin tribe enslaved.

"Status," Aiden commanded. "What is your rank?"

"Elders, Master," they rasped in unison. The Rings of Enslavement made lying impossible.

Aiden was slightly surprised. He had assumed they were the Chieftains given their intelligence.

"Where is your Chieftain?"

"He chose to resist," one Elder replied instantly. "We ate him."

Aiden looked closer. Sure enough, fresh stains of dark green blood smeared their ugly faces.

Pragmatic. Ruthless.

"How many of your kind remain below?"

"The whelps are all dead. Thirty thousand adults remain."

Thirty thousand. A substantial labor force.

"And the weaponry?" Aiden asked, his gaze piercing. "Where did you acquire those ballistae?"

"We forged them ourselves."

Aiden paused. "You aren't common goblins."

"No, Master. We are... semi-awakened."

Jackpot.

Aiden’s vertical pupils dilated, then snapped back into focus.

Semi-awakened variants. Intelligent crafters.

"Can you reproduce the weapons you used to attack me?"

This was the crux of the matter.

Those weapons had packed a punch. If these creatures could mass-produce them...

"Yes, Master."

Aiden’s mind raced.

Selling raw resources was for peasants. Arms dealing? That was where the real gold lay.

That wretched Rhoyce’s heir—the one with the divine favor—had deep pockets and a desperate need for firepower.

A terrifying approximation of a grin spread across the Red Dragon’s maw.