Translator: AnubisTL
A thick darkness enveloped Dragon Valley.
Before Garos floated a message stone, from which the iron dragon's voice boomed.
"I'm always the one getting hurt! Those damned centaurs feigned surrender to gain my trust, made me lower my guard, and then ambushed me!" the iron dragon roared in fury. "To dare attack dragonkind, they're no ordinary centaurs. We must strike with overwhelming force! If not for my wisdom and composure, they might have trapped me permanently."
Garos listened calmly to the iron dragon's tirade.
After understanding the situation, he said, "It's nothing. As long as you're alive, it's a minor matter."
"How should we deal with these centaurs?" the iron dragon asked. "They call themselves the White Mane Clan. There must be more of them beyond those I encountered."
"Tasha!" Garos called out. The flying dragon leader, who had been circling vigilantly overhead, swiftly descended.
"Do you know the White Mane Clan? A clan of centaurs," Garos asked.
He never engaged in battles without preparation, preferring to thoroughly understand his enemy's capabilities and uncover any hidden dangers before striking.
The flying dragon leader pondered briefly before replying, "Yes, their territory lies in the western part of Dragon Valley. We've clashed with their centaurs during hunts before."
"What's their size?"
"Not too big, not too small. Their overall strength surpasses our wyvern flock, but they're no match for you, my lord," the flying dragon leader replied, his scar twitching with excitement. "My lord, are we going to war with the centaurs? The wyvern flock will tear them apart!"
"They will pay for their actions," Garos declared, "but your mission remains to guard Dragon Valley."
He ordered the wyverns to resume their patrols.
Turning to the iron dragon, Garos said, "I'll be there soon."
Withdrawing the message stone, the red-iron dragon slowly rose to his full height.
He stretched his wings, his magnificent, imposing form fully revealed under the moonlight. His black dragon scales resembled heavy armor, densely covered with thorn spikes in many places.
Facing his enemies, Garos adhered to the principle of striking first.
What had happened tonight would be resolved tonight.
With a sweep of his dragon wings, dust and stones swirled into the air.
Garos surged skyward, enveloped in a raging gale, tearing a long, comet-like trail across the night sky as he flew toward the gray magnetite mine.
Some time later.
Dawn had yet to break, and the night remained deep and dense.
At the gray magnetite mine, Silvermane and Ironhoof had clashed fiercely but remained evenly matched.
Since this was not a life-or-death struggle and they bore no true animosity toward each other, their skills being nearly equal, they eventually realized they couldn't overcome each other and paused to rest.
"This sparring match won't settle anything," Silvermane suggested. "When we return to the clan, let's have a drinking contest with strong liquor. Whoever stays sober the longest gets to oversee the gray magnetite mining. What do you say?"
Centaurs were as fond of drinking as dwarves.
Ironhoof, confident in his alcohol tolerance, flicked his tail and declared, "No problem. I'll be the last one standing."
As soon as the words left his mouth, both centaurs' gazes snapped upward.
The juvenile iron dragon had returned, circling high above with a cold, calculating stare.
"Get me my bow," Ironhoof demanded, extending his hand.
A centaur archer handed him a longbow and arrows.
Ironhoof let out a sharp breath, his arm muscles bulging as he drew the bowstring taut like a full moon, channeling magic energy into the weapon.
The arrow hissed through the air, but it fell short of the high-flying iron dragon.
The distance was too great.
"Cowardly lizard!" Ironhoof roared, taunting the dragon. "Did you come back just to show off your wounds?"
The iron dragon replied calmly, a cold smile twisting its lips. "Vermin, you're too ignorant to realize your end is near."
Ironhoof dismissed the threat, but Silvermane felt a growing unease.
This juvenile dragon's behavior was unlike any dragonkind he knew.
Silvermane opened his mouth, preparing to probe the dragon's motives.
Suddenly...
A sound like ten million blades being drawn, tearing through wind and sky, pierced the centaurs' eardrums from afar, causing their expressions to shift.
The iron dragon, however, wore a look of delight.
"Listen," he roared, his voice echoing across the battlefield. "This is the sound of death!"
Looking down at the agitated centaurs, he howled, "Lord of the Crimson Wings, Harbinger of Death, my beloved brother—he has come!"
Brother?!
Ironhoof and Silvermane pawed the ground uneasily, their gazes fixed on the heavens.
The sky tore open.
A crimson meteor streaked across the night, its passage parting the clouds in swirling eddies, leaving a trail of shimmering flames in its wake.
Boom!
A thunderous roar erupted.
A shockwave exploded behind the meteor as it plunged toward the earth.
As the distance closed, the centaurs finally discerned its true form.
It was no meteor, but an impossibly massive and ferocious dragon. Its wings beat with tremendous force, scales grinding against each other to shower sparks of molten red. Dark crimson flames surged behind it, while its black scales glowed faintly red from the friction of its descent.
The evil dragon descended from the sky with unstoppable terror.
Its dragon might gripped the centaurs' hearts like an invisible hand, nearly suffocating them.
"Prepare for battle! Engage the enemy!" Ironhoof roared.
The burly centaur giant drew his bow and fired an arrow, followed by a volley of arrows from the other centaur archers.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The centaur arrows, capable of piercing steel, struck Garos's body, colliding with his hardened scales. Sparks flew as the arrows shattered instantly upon impact, even those that struck his visor failing to draw blood.
"Scatter! Scatter!" the centaur chieftain shouted, bending his knees slightly before leaping away from his position.
Just as the red-iron dragon was about to crash into the ground, it suddenly spread its wings, its body arcing in a cold, sweeping arc as it charged straight toward Ironhoof.
Centaurs were among the fastest creatures on land, but against the red-iron dragon, their speed seemed sluggish, utterly incomparable.
Ironhoof skidded to a halt, his four hooves digging deep furrows into the earth.
With a furious roar, he instinctively raised his war spear, thrusting it at the rapidly approaching, formidable evil dragon.
The war spear thrust was instinctive, but in the face of mortal danger, Ironhoof's entire body surged with magic energy like a tidal wave. His movements became impossibly swift, the spear, arm, and body merging into a single, seamless whole.
This attack surpassed Ironhoof's previous limits, striking with lightning speed toward the evil dragon's eye socket.
"Faster! Just a little faster!"
Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Ironhoof's spirit focused entirely on the attack, roaring inwardly.
Suddenly, his body convulsed as if struck by lightning.
"Ugh—ah!"
Ironhoof's scream erupted, mingled with fragments of his own organs.
The dragon's claw strike had been even faster.
Before the war spear could land, the four-meter-tall giant was swept aside by a claw strike, his massive frame tumbling across the ground like a boulder struck by a meteor, leaving a horrifying trail of blood in its wake.
Simultaneously, the red-iron dragon casually flicked its tail.
Three elite centaur warriors attempting a flanking maneuver were sent flying, their bodies snapping like brittle straw.
Another centaur chieftain leaped high, channeling all his magic energy into his greatsword, and swung it down at Garos's neck from the side.
He didn't know that this neck had once withstood a Level 13 paladin's evil-slaying slash without breaking.
However, the red-iron dragon didn't let the attack land on his neck, shifting his body slightly.
Clang!
Silvermane's slash struck the thorn spikes on the dragon's shoulder, sending sparks flying. Immediately afterward, an explosive scale detonated, launching thorn spikes that pierced through Silvermane's armor and magic energy defenses, leaving bloody holes in his body.
The fiery blast sent him flying backward, crashing heavily to the ground.
Garos hadn't even needed to use his claws; his 'counter-armor' had already dealt the enemy a devastating blow.
Less than thirty seconds had passed since Garos initiated his attack, and both centaur chieftains had already been critically wounded.
The remaining centaur warriors froze in place. These warriors, who had once dared to hunt the white dragon, now found their weapon-wielding fingers trembling uncontrollably.
The evil dragon hadn't even truly exerted himself; a mere hint of his power had crushed the two commanders like ants.
"I said—" Garos surveyed the battlefield with cold indifference. "—kneel!"
His voice was soft, yet carried the weight of mountains.
Thud!
The dull thud of knees hitting the ground echoed in unison.
Even the most stubborn veterans prostrated themselves, their foreheads pressed against the blood-stained earth.
One young warrior even lost control of his bladder, a pale yellow liquid trickling down his steel greaves. But no one dared mock him, for every centaur trembled like a leaf under the dragon's might.
Around the red-iron dragon, every centaur knelt, their bodies bowed in abject submission.
(End of the Chapter)
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