Translator: AnubisTL
The night was deep, and cold winds swept across the low mountain where the gray magnetite mine lay.
Solgorn gazed at the red-iron dragon standing at the center of the centaur throng, feeling his scales tighten as if pressed by an invisible force.
It wasn't dragon might.
Rather, it was an intangible, profound aura—a dignified presence the iron dragon yearned for but lacked.
The dragon folded its wings and descended to the ground, landing just ten meters from Garos. "You arrived sooner than I expected," it said.
Garos's gaze swept over the centaurs. "Dealing with them required no delay."
"These despicable creatures dared to deceive me!" the iron dragon growled, its anger flaring.
Garos had faced a similar situation when he subdued the Hyena-Men at Howling Crag. The Hyena-Men had initially feigned submission before launching a surprise attack.
But Garos had seen through their ruse.
Before they could strike, he demonstrated his power, forcing them to abandon their treachery.
The iron dragon's vulnerability to deception stemmed largely from its lack of strength. Had it possessed Garos's power, the centaurs wouldn't have feigned loyalty—they would have offered genuine allegiance.
Moreover, the pride inherent to dragonkind played a role.
If it had been Garos, he would have been immediately wary when a creature of higher life grade suddenly pledged allegiance. He would have subjected them to repeated tests, refusing to fall for such a simple trick.
"Solgorn, you excel at managing your territory and familiars," the red-iron dragon remarked calmly. "But you lack cunning and vigilance. You must recognize this flaw."
He didn't blame Solgorn for this. After all, he was still a juvenile dragon, and occasional mistakes were natural. Even Garos, with his extreme caution, couldn't avoid all dangers and setbacks. How could other juvenile dragons fare any better?
The key was whether they could learn from their mistakes and grow, rather than stagnating.
The juvenile iron dragon had already shown some growth. This time, he hadn't lingered in battle or been blinded by the illusion of "having the upper hand."
Solgorn nodded, accepting his brother's words without argument.
He said gravely, "I'll find a way to awaken my spirit energy as soon as possible and become a mind mage. The keen insight into minds will compensate for my deficiencies in this area."
After a pause, the iron dragon asked, "These centaurs... their tribe must have more warriors."
"What do you plan to do with them?"
Garos's dragon face revealed little emotion as he replied, "Simple. Submit or be destroyed. I will give them a choice."
The Borderlands were predominantly flat plains.
Centaurs were natural cavalry, and their charge across the open ground was a force to be reckoned with. In large-scale frontal assaults, their effectiveness rivaled that of ogres, and their overall capabilities were arguably superior.
They were worth recruiting as familiars.
But if they refused to acknowledge their place, Garos would not force the issue. Instead, he would ensure the complete annihilation of any clans that had offended him, leaving no trace of their existence.
The red-iron dragon's simple yet menacing words sent the centaurs cowering even lower.
At that moment, two centaur chieftains, gravely wounded by Garos, struggled to their feet.
Garos had spared their lives earlier, choosing not to deliver the killing blow.
The iron dragon turned his cold gaze upon the centaurs who had ambushed him, leaving numerous scars on his body. He strode forward deliberately, a cruel smile spreading across his face. "Foolish, wretched creatures," he sneered, "is this outcome to your liking? Does it satisfy you?"
Ironhoof and Silvermane stood pale and trembling, their breaths shallow and ragged.
Only after being utterly crushed by Garos did they realize the magnitude of their mistake.
The iron dragon was not alone; behind it stood dragonkind of such overwhelming power that they had no hope of resisting.
Had they known this beforehand, they would never have dared to provoke them. But who could have imagined that evil dragons would band together in groups?
In the centaurs' understanding, evil dragons like the iron dragon were solitary creatures, and there were no known instances of them living together.
"Warriors of the White Mane Clan, rise!" Ironhoof roared, his voice echoing with a desperate, final surge of strength.
"The glory of the centaurs lies in battle! Live through death!"
With a bellow, he seized his broken spear and charged toward the iron dragon, leading the charge.
The kneeling centaurs stirred, their hands twitching as they considered joining the assault.
Thud!
Unexpectedly, before the dragons could react, Silvermane hurled his greatsword with brutal force. The blade pierced Ironhoof's chest, halting his charge and silencing the centaurs' rising rebellion.
"You?!" Ironhoof collapsed to the ground, blood gushing from his mouth. His eyes widened in shock and betrayal as he glared at his former comrade and rival.
"Fool," Silvermane spat, "you would have doomed us all. Glory only exists for those who survive."
Silvermane sighed softly.
Ironhoof didn't respond. His pupils had completely dilated. He had already sustained grievous injuries from Garos's claw strike, and Silvermane's greatsword piercing his chest had sealed his fate. He died instantly.
Garos and Solgorn silently observed the centaur infighting.
Silvermane gasped for breath, enduring the searing pain as he knelt on the ground.
He knew this was his last chance.
"Noble Iron King, great Lord of the Crimson Wings," he said, forcing a humble, ingratiating smile. Lowering his head, he continued, "I was blind to the truth and acted foolishly. Please forgive me. I am willing to pay any price for your mercy."
Garos remained silent, his gaze unwavering.
Silvermane, suppressing the agony, slammed his forehead against the jagged metal shards, ignoring the blood that streamed down his brow.
"Our White Mane Clan has lived in the Borderlands for generations, migrating across these lands. We know every water source, every mineral vein, and how to survive here."
His voice trembled with pain, but he maintained the most respectful tone he could muster.
"Look at us. Our powerful hooves can crush giant wolf skulls, our charges are unstoppable. Our archers have eyes as sharp as eagles, able to shoot down birds from hundreds, even thousands of meters away. If you would show us mercy..."
Silvermane painfully raised his bloodied arm, pierced by thorn spikes, and gestured toward the kneeling warriors.
"These elite warriors will become your sharpest spears."
After a pause, he finally said respectfully, "I wish to offer—"
The iron dragon interrupted, "Loyalty?"
"Foolish centaurs, you have lost all credibility in my eyes."
Silvermane fell silent, then gritted his teeth and said, "I made the wrong choice. I am willing to atone with my life, if only you will spare the other warriors."
The iron dragon first glanced at Garos.
Garos's expression remained unchanged as he said indifferently, "They inflicted wounds upon you. Their lives are yours to decide."
Silvermane's face turned ashen.
The iron dragon strode toward Silvermane, his massive body casting a shadow that enveloped the centaur.
A cruel smile spread across his draconic face. "Centaur, as you said, atone with your life. After your death, I will no longer trouble the other centaurs."
Silvermane paused for a few seconds, then forced a smile.
"Thank you for your mercy."
He picked up a broken spear from the ground, hesitated briefly, took a deep breath, and finally, with a determined clench of his jaw, closed his eyes and thrust the spear with all his might toward his heart.
The spear tip pierced skin and flesh.
But before it could reach his heart, it came to an abrupt halt.
The iron dragon extended a hooked claw and seized the broken spear.
Sensing the iron dragon's intervention, the centaur's eyes snapped open in shock.
The iron dragon said coldly, "Your life now belongs to the Ironforged Clan, to us, the Ignis Brothers."
(End of the Chapter)
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