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Translator: AnubisTL
The cost of forging the Chain of Kinship for the first time was not small. Gordon seemed to have some unspoken grievances and delayed his response. As time passed, Solgorn began to struggle under the strain.
"Don't resist. Let me finish the Chain of Kinship first."
"We'll talk in detail later."
With those words, Solgorn began to construct the final link of the Chain of Kinship, extending it toward the fat iron dragon's mental body.
Gordon hesitated for a few secondsâIs it really necessary to maintain contact with a poor brother who's still rolling around in the wilderness?
He was no longer the naive and foolish hatchling he once was. He knew that everything Solgorn had said back then was a lie. Their time together had been brief, and their relationship was far from deep. Moreover, he didn't believe Solgorn could have achieved anything significant; in fact, he suspected Solgorn's situation was dire.
If it were Garosâreliable and powerfulâthen it would be worth trusting.
While he hesitated, the Chain of Kinship had already reached him.
Ultimately, although Iron Dragon Gordon was still hesitant, he did not resist and accepted the Chain of Kinship.
"The Chain of Kinship is complete!"
Solgorn opened his eyes.
He could clearly sense Garos's presence, even vaguely perceiving his emotionsâcalm, vigilant, like a deep and vast ocean.
As for Samantha, her spiritual fluctuations were like a raging fire, threatening to sever the connection at any moment.
And Gordonâbecause he was too far away, the link was unstable, flickering in and out of existence.
But regardless, the spell had succeeded.
Now, no matter how far apart they were, as long as they were on the same continent, the Ignis Brothers could communicate on a spiritual level.
Of course, the Chain of Kinship was not a highly advanced piece of mind magic.
It could still be interfered with or blocked, but for everyday communication, it was more than sufficient.
The Iron Dragon looked down at his chest. As the spell's construction concluded, the blood had stopped flowing, and he felt much better.
Meanwhile.
In the Frontierlands, in the northeast, lay the Swamp of the Dead.
Miasma hung from withered trees like rotting silk, and the air was thick with damp moisture. Sunlight was sliced into mottled patterns of light and shadow, falling in shafts.
This was the heart of the Venomtail Tribe's territory.
Serpentmen, averaging over six meters in length including their tails, slithered on patrol throughout the swamp. Hidden curses and spells silently wove through the air.
Deep in the swamp.
The Venomtail Tribe's council chamber was built within the ribcage of a colossal serpent, half-sunken into the mire.
Sargon, the serpentfolk sorcerer, was coiled on the moss-covered stone dais at the head of the chamber. His long, slender tail slapped silently against the damp, foul-smelling ground.
Before him, two visitors exuded an aura that made his scales prickle.
Urom, the Orc Warlord of the Ironblood Tribe, wore blood-stained copper rings on his tusks. His heavy breathing could be heard clearly from over ten meters away. Beside him stood Breta, a barbarian warrior from the Dawn Tribe. Her bare shoulders were covered in twisted tattoos, and yellowed bones were woven into her thick, braided hair. She radiated the dry heat of sweat and blood.
These two were the envoys sent by the Ironblood and Dawn Tribes.
The news of the Ironforged Tribe's crushing defeat and annexation of the Gold Tooth Tribe had not escaped the notice of humans and orcs.
Though they despised the treacherous and vile goblins, they knew the Gold Tooth Tribe's alchemical legion was not to be underestimated.
The humans and orcs viewed the rapidly rising Ironforged Tribeâwhich had recently defeated the Gold Tooth Tribeâwith deep suspicion and wariness. They were unwilling to let this unfamiliar tribe continue to grow unchecked.
To this end, they had already reached a unified decision: to join forces against the Ironforged Tribe and strike before it could fully consolidate its victory and become invincible.
Now, all they needed was the Venomtail Tribe's stance.
Sargon, a serpentfolk sorcerer and a tribal boss, was currently tasked with negotiating with the tribal envoys.
"Serpent Lord!"
Urom was the first to break the silence. His voice, like two pieces of raw iron grinding together, was harsh and grating. "That Red Iron Mongrel Dragon of the Ironforged Tribe has already swallowed Gold Tooth. We're next! Venomtail, Ironblood, and Dawnâwe must strike like three fangs and crush its throat!"
He slammed his massive fist onto the stone table, sending several venomous scorpions scurrying in panic from the crevices.
Breta crossed her arms, her bronze skin glistening in the dim light.
"Urom is right," she said, her voice low and raspy. "Those dragons are ruthless. The Gold Tooth Tribe's goblins have already submitted. Once he finishes digesting Gold Tooth, if the three of us face him alone, we'll all be skinned alive. Our only chance is to uniteâto crush him and his familiars into dust before his wings have fully hardened."
Her sharp eyes swept over the serpentfolk sorcerer. "The Venomtail warlock shaman, combined with the Ironblood warriors and our barbarians, will be enough to tear the Ironforged Tribe to shreds. When that happens, the Frontierlands will still belong to us."
Compared to the raw directness of the orcs...
No barbarian is more reasonable than a furious one.
Across from them, the serpentfolk sorcerer's tongue flicked silently over his lips.
"Hiss... The rise of the Ironforged Tribe has indeed made even the vipers of the swamp uneasy."
His voice was slick and cold, like a snake gliding over damp rock, utterly unlike that of a human or an orc.
"We of the Venomtail Tribe have always admired the Ironblood Tribe's valor and the Dawn Tribe's decisiveness."
His words lacked the directness of humans and orcs, his tone feminine and obscure.
The Orc Warlord grunted impatiently, his pungent body odor thickening in the humid air. "Stop beating around the bush, Sargon! Just tell us: will the Poison-Tail Serpent Swarm join us in tearing that red dragon mongrel apart, or would you rather wait to be plucked out one by one and turned into snake soup?"
The human envoy, also displeased, glared at the serpentfolk sorcerer. "We came here in good faith. No more feigning cooperation or playing these games. The Ironforged Tribe grows stronger by the hour. We need a decision now."
Both the Ironblood and Dawn Tribes favored a direct approach. The only difference was that the orcs were more crude, while the humans were slightly more rationalâthough the Dawn Tribe's barbarians were far more ferocious than any orc when enraged.
"Your demands... hiss... are very direct," the serpentfolk sorcerer replied. "War, especially against top-tier magical creatures like dragons, is not a wrestling match in an arena. It requires precise venom, not blind charges. The strength of the Venomtail Tribe lies in silent strangulation and patient waiting."
What is this prattling on about?!
Urom slammed his fist onto the table and stood up, roaring in frustration, "Sargon! Enough nonsense! Give us a straight answer!"
The surrounding serpentfolk guards glared coldly at the council chamber.
The thick-skulled orc paid them no mind, merely staring irritably at the serpentfolk sorcerer.
Breta slapped dead several venomous mosquitoes that had landed on her arm to drink her blood, her gaze gradually growing impatient.
Two barbaric, crude, brainless fools, the serpentfolk sorcerer thought, leaning forward slightly. "The dosage and timing of a poison determine whether it is a life-saving cure or... a curse that accelerates death. We need a more meticulous plan. We need to know where the Ironforged Tribe's weakest scale is. Blindly striking will only get us burned to ashes by dragon flame."
The orc's eyelid twitched, unable to bear the serpentfolk sorcerer's long-windedness.
Nagging, indecisive.
No wonder they only like to hide in the back, playing with curses and spells. They have no blood-valor or honor.
He wanted to raise his fist and smash it into the serpentfolk sorcerer's face, crushing its skull.
But considering the purpose of this trip and the fact that he was on their territory, the Orc Warlord struggled to suppress his rage.
Finally.
The serpentfolk sorcerer got to the point.
"Three days... sss... The Venomtail Tribe's eldest ancestor spirit shaman will perform a communion to peer into the Ironforged Tribe's weaknesses and find the most suitable gap for the venomous fang to pierce."
"The Venomtail Tribe will give you a concrete answer at that time."
Frontierlands, Southeast, Steel Spike Outpost.
"First, I'll communicate with Garos and Samantha, test the effects of the Chain of Kinship, and discuss the matter of Gordon."
Iron Dragon Solgorn paused to recover from the cost of constructing the spell. After his spirit had considerably recovered, spirit energy glowed in his eyes.
Immediately after.
With a sensation like a gentle tapping on their bloodlines, Garos and Samantha simultaneously received a communication from Solgorn through the Chain of Kinship on the mental plane. Moreover, with the mind mage as an intermediary, Garos and Samantha could also sense each other's thoughts through Iron Dragon Solgorn.
"Something big has happened."
The Iron Dragon's voice was serious and earnest.
"Gordon is still alive. I've located him using the Chain of Kinship."
He presented the mental body form he saw to Garos and Samantha.
"What a fat pig. He has the characteristics of an Iron Dragon. Is he a dragon-blood pig?! He looks like he'd be very juicy. Roasted in blazing flames and sprinkled with some spices, he should be quite delicious."
The Red Dragon drooled.
The moment she saw the fat iron dragon through the link, she didn't realize who it was.
(End of the Chapter)
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