Translator: AnubisTL
"Russell," Garos called out to the dragon-blood werewolf.
"My lord," the burly werewolf, clad in iron-like dragon scales, knelt before him.
"Lead the cavalry, scouts, and elite centaur warriors to reconnoiter the Bloodhoof Clan's resource nodes and sentry positions," the red-iron dragon instructed. He then turned to the flying dragon leader, Tasha, and added, "Tasha, take the wyvern flock to harass the Bloodhoof Clan's main camp. Draw their attention and provide cover for Russell's reconnaissance."
Sensing the scent of war, the Gluttonous Demon Karu, gnawing on a leg bone, lumbered closer.
"Dragon Lord, what about me?" he growled impatiently. "I want to taste the flavor of bull horns!"
"Summon the Starfall Hammer Warband," Garos commanded. "Prepare them for mobilization."
As time passed, a steady stream of orders continued to flow from his lips and through the message stone.
Finally, Garos let out a long sigh.
These mundane tasks should have been handled by the Iron Dragon, who would compile the initial reports and present them to Garos. But with Iron Dragon Solgorn in slumber, Garos had no choice but to manage everything himself.
No matter.
The red dragon was impulsive, the white dragon of average intelligence, and the fairy dragon... well, let's not even go there.
As for the other familiar bosses, some were indeed wise and skilled at management, but they lacked the authority to command the respect of the other familiars.
Dragon Valley is still too weak. We need more dragons here, Garos thought.
Focused on his own pursuits, he had little interest in managing his territory or familiars. Now that the iron dragon was in hibernation, the territory's administration and the familiars' command had become sluggish. With no suitable dragon to take over, Garos was forced to intervene.
Perhaps I should learn from the Blue Dragon Clan.
Recruit, assimilate, and nurture orphaned young dragons to build a true dragon community.
Garos pondered thoughtfully.
Among the chromatic dragons, the blue dragon, also known as the storm dragon, embodies thunderbolts and storms. They are the calmest and most rational of all chromatic dragons.
Blue dragons never abandon their young.
Instead, they gather young dragons together to raise them collectively. This extends beyond their own offspring; occasionally, they even bring other chromatic dragon hatchlings back to their clan, sheltering them under the clan's protection. As these young dragons mature into juveniles and adults, they too become protectors of the clan.
The red dragon is considered the leader of the chromatic dragons.
In most encounters between red dragons and blue dragons, the red dragons often came out worse. This was because blue dragons typically traveled in groups, much like metallic dragons.
Of course, evil dragons remained evil dragons.
The Blue Dragon Clan didn't raise young dragons out of kindness, but for profit.
Adult dragons ruthlessly exploited the interests of their young, and it was common practice to send little dragons and their familiars to their deaths as cannon fodder in dangerous battles. Young dragons raised in such environments either escaped and perished prematurely, or survived to become part of the ruling elite, perpetuating the cycle of exploitation by oppressing weaker dragonkind.
"I can learn from the Blue Dragon Clan's methods of absorbing young dragons to build the Ignis Family."
"But I don't need to resort to cruel downward exploitation."
"The future of the Ignis Family, the future of Dragon Valley, should belong to a Dragon Empire, not a narrow-minded clan like the blue dragons."
With the bloodline of iron dragons flowing through his veins, Garos naturally aspired to establish a Dragon Empire.
He believed that such an empire, serving as his logistical backbone, would greatly enhance his development and ensure his survival.
"What should I do now?"
At that moment, White Dragon Treacy asked, "What are you doing?"
Garos replied, "Just like me, conserving energy and preparing for battle."
He ceased his training and began to eat and rest, gradually restoring his body to peak condition.
Meanwhile, at the Bloodhoof Clan's main camp:
Towering stone walls, as high as city ramparts, encircled the camp, guarded by strong, towering minotaurs. The structures within were also entirely constructed of stone, with few wooden buildings or tents.
Minotaur sorcerer excelled at manipulating the earth, controlling stone and soil.
Their architectural skills were formidable, though their designs were crude and utterly devoid of aesthetic appeal.
Within a stone hall permeated with a savage, primal aura, Baal Bloodhoof's pitch-black eyes gleamed with an abyssal light as he surveyed the other minotaurs.
His massive, curved horns spiraled skyward as he sat silently on the highest throne, his iron-tower-like body motionless.
The other minotaur bosses were discussing recent events.
"We've been discovered. Their reaction was swift."
"The wyvern flock's reconnaissance was just the first step. The dragonkind dwelling in Wyvern Valley will make further moves."
"We can't afford to wait passively. We need to prepare."
"..."
The minotaurs' gruff voices rose and fell in a rhythmic cadence.
They knew Dragon Valley harbored more than just wyverns.
Long before the juvenile dragon turned against the White Mane Clan, the Bloodhoof Clan minotaurs had already set their sights on the centaurs. Driven by a relentless desire for expansion, they had been waiting for the opportune moment to strike.
However, before they could formally declare war on the White Mane Clan, their scouts, originally tasked with observing the centaurs, inadvertently discovered the juvenile dragon. Worse, the dragon had already subjugated the White Mane Clan's centaurs before they could act.
Afterward, the Bloodhoof Clan gradually located Dragon Valley through scout reports and shamanic divination spells.
But when their scouts were spotted by patrolling wyverns, they realized their presence had been exposed to the dragonkind.
Soon after, the Bloodhoof Clan's chief shaman opened his dull white eyes and spoke in a heavy, measured tone: "I have seen war and flames, death and blood."
"Conflict with the dragonkind will bring grave danger to our clan."
After a pause, the shaman shifted his tone: "Yet danger and opportunity walk hand in hand. If we can weather this storm, sacrificing the souls of dragons to the great Baphomet, our chieftain will grow stronger, and the Bloodhoof Clan will receive greater blessings."
Minotaurs were known for their stubborn and unyielding nature.
Now brimming with ambition, their minds were set on expansion and dominating the Borderlands. They would crush any obstacle, trampling their enemies into bloody pulp.
"The minotaur are unstoppable!"
"Our horns are unbreakable!"
"Every foe who stands before us will be crushed beneath our hooves!"
Hearing the shaman's words, the minotaur bosses roared with primal excitement.
After a few seconds, they gradually calmed, their gazes converging on the towering, iron-like figure.
Their individual opinions mattered little; the chieftain's decision was paramount.
In the past, minotaurs who dared challenge the chieftain's authority had met a uniform fate: their bones now lay scattered and forgotten.
Baal Bloodhoof stood tall, his black mane bristling. Beneath his exposed skin, not an ounce of fat remained; his muscles bulged like forged steel, resembling ancient vines coiling in dense, powerful knots.
His eyes were pitch-black, devoid of any other color, like bottomless abysses.
Baal slowly rose, his massive frame eclipsing the hall's light and casting a heavy shadow.
The hall fell deathly silent. The other minotaurs felt a suffocating pressure until Baal spoke, his deep, gravelly voice breaking the tension.
"Prepare for war!"
The minotaurs erupted in savage roars.
Most clamored for an immediate mobilization of their warriors and a full-scale assault on Dragon Valley, but the chieftain rejected their proposal.
"Victory is assured, but we must not underestimate our enemies," Baal Bloodhoof declared, his voice resonating with thunderous authority.
Baal ruled the Bloodhoof Clan with an iron fist, yet he possessed considerable wisdom. He continued slowly, "Dragonkind excels at flight. If they sense defeat, they will simply flee, leaving us powerless to pursue."
"I fear not the dragons' vengeance, but merely repelling them would be no different from defeat in my eyes."
Baal's voice deepened like a rumbling storm. "I will forge the Bloodhoof Clan's path to glory with the lives and souls of dragons."
Under the watchful eyes of his clan bosses, he issued his orders.
In essence, the plan was to feign weakness, allowing the dragons to flaunt their power and nurture their arrogance. Once the dragons lowered their guard, the Bloodhoof Clan would unleash a thunderbolt strike, crushing them utterly.
At that moment, a piercing screech tore through the sky.
The wyvern flock had returned.
"Still just wyverns," Baal remarked calmly.
"These two-legged lizards are merely probing our defenses. They pose no threat."
True to his words, the Bloodhoof Clan responded with calculated restraint to the wyvern flock's harassment.
Though they possessed anti-air capabilities, they held their fire, retaliating only with the same measured counterattacks as before.
The wyverns, unwilling to risk close combat, remained high in the sky, dropping stones onto the Bloodhoof Clan's territory in a futile attempt to harass them. These attacks proved utterly ineffective, each stone intercepted by the sorcerers' defensive spells.
(End of the Chapter)
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