Translator: AnubisTL
"Ever since the Federation's suppression force has gradually weakened, the powerful monsters that were once dormant in the depths of the wilderness are continuously emerging. Even for us dragons, we absolutely cannot let our guard down there."
At this point, he paused slightly.
Sniffing the unique aura of the red dragon bloodline on Garos in the air, Alberto seemed to recall some important information and added, "According to the news I've gathered through my own channels, there is more than one powerful dragon wreaking havoc in the wilderness today."
"There is an ancient Plague Dragon that has awakened from its long slumber, crawling out of its nest to spread death and disease far and wide."
"There is also a ferocious red dragon known as 'Mountain-Burning Wings' and 'Frenzied Flame Blood-Blaze.' It is extremely arrogant, slaughtering even its own dragonkind without hesitation. Its strength is so formidable that even I would have to give it a wide berth if I encountered it."
"And a group of blue dragons from the Boiling Sea, advancing and retreating as one, are currently recruiting and subjugating familiars in the depths of the wilderness, rapidly expanding their territory."
"..."
"And that's not all," Alberto continued, his voice laced with gravity. "Our dragon race's old rivals—the giants—have also begun to emerge from the shadows of the wilderness. There are also powerful demonic beasts, ferocious monsters... I suspect they will only become more active in the future. The wilderness will only grow more dangerous."
The Age of Chaos was both a fertile ground for ambitious men to vie for supremacy and a breeding ground for terrible monsters to break their chains and proliferate unchecked.
The vast and boundless Sierre Wilderness, with its uniquely abundant resources, had always been a natural habitat for countless powerful creatures.
However.
For centuries, under the shadow of the Federation, the overlords of the wilderness had wisely sheathed their claws and fangs, suppressing their instinctive roars and lurking in the shadows, carefully avoiding that immovable edge.
Yet.
The predators of the wilderness, with their beast-like keen intuition, could clearly sense the once-indestructible shackles of suppression the Federation had imposed upon this unclaimed land were quietly beginning to loosen.
The bloodthirsty and greedy instincts lurking deep within their bloodlines were gradually becoming unrestrained, like undercurrents surging beneath a thawing river, silently stirring beneath the tranquil surface of the wilderness.
The situation was now as clear as a cloudless summer sun.
It wouldn't be long before the Sierre Wilderness—a land that had borne witness to countless deaths and rivers of blood—would be transformed into a place where risk and opportunity, blood and wealth, would coexist.
Even Garos, as powerful as he was, knew this all too well.
If he wanted to claim a share of the spoils in the coming storm and secure a foothold for himself, he would have to wait. He needed to endure his own slumber and emerge into his more powerful young stage. Only then would he possess the strength and confidence to truly stand his ground on this stage where the weak were devoured by the strong.
For now, he could only watch from the fringes.
Meanwhile, the red-iron dragon remained silent after Alberto's metallic-toned words fell.
He had long foreseen the coming turmoil in the wilderness; that was not the true reason his heart was now racing.
What truly silenced Garos and plunged him into deep thought was the red dragon Alberto had mentioned so casually.
Mountain-Burning Wings, Frenzied Flame Blood-Blaze—his true name, Gorsas.
This was none other than Garos's own biological father, a dragon he had never met and who existed only in the brief descriptions of others.
Though he had never seen his true form, the mere sketch provided by the Silver Dragon Edri had been enough. An image of a dragon—utterly mad, chaotically disordered, one who viewed destruction as a feast and would never spare a single thought for blood ties—had already taken a vivid and terrifying shape in Garos's mind.
"Gorsas... To think he would choose this moment to return to the Sierre Wilderness, a volcano on the verge of eruption."
The red-iron dragon's sharp eyes narrowed as his thoughts raced.
If he were to encounter Gorsas here and now, Garos knew all too well that with his current life grade and power, he would stand no chance against the Mountain-Burning Wings, a dragon already in his prime and infamous for his cruelty.
More importantly, faced with a chaotic evil dragon of such perverse temper, treacherous mind, and utterly unpredictable behavior, Garos felt no desire to approach or even acknowledge him—even if he were his own flesh and blood.
To do so would be to deliberately place himself in mortal danger.
As the saying goes: Kings do not meet kings; one must first avoid their sharpest edge.
Still, the Sierre Wilderness was vast, its terrain a complex tapestry of mountains, canyons, sand seas, and dense forests.
Given Gorsas's utterly unpredictable and erratic behavior, Garos could avoid him as long as he remained vigilant, planned his route carefully, and deliberately avoided areas where the Mad Dragon was likely to be active.
Unless the Goddess of Misfortune herself poured all her malice upon him, the chances of a direct encounter with that Mad Dragon were vanishingly small.
Yet, fate is ever unpredictable.
If they truly were to meet and find themselves on opposing sides, Garos would feel not a shred of hesitation or pity when the time came to strike a killing blow. Between them, there was no warmth or bond—only the innate repulsion and vigilance born of their shared bloodline.
A son smiling as his father dies; a son who kills his father without regret.
Such dramas were all too common among evil dragons.
"Alberto," Garos's voice rumbled low. "You mentioned Gorsas, the 'Frenzied Flame Blood-Blaze.' Do you have any more detailed or specific intelligence on him, beyond his name and notoriety?"
"He is a red dragon in his prime, his true name is Gorsas," Alberto replied, his expression as grave as if facing a mortal enemy, his eyes shimmering with dread at the mention of that infamous name.
"His exact life grade is still uncertain, but it's highly likely to be Tier 19."
"One of his most infamous feats in the wilderness was successfully breaking through a massive hunt organized by the Federation."
"His temperament is extremely cruel and tyrannical. He is considered the purest of red dragons, the ultimate paragon among evil dragons."
At this point, Alberto paused slightly, his gaze sweeping over Garos.
"Why ask about him all of a sudden?" Alberto's voice was laced with clear confusion. "Have you encountered Gorsas before? Or did you hear of his notoriety in advance?"
Garos's faceplate was rigid and heavy, betraying no obvious emotion.
He replied, "It is only because we share a similar bloodline that I felt a flicker of curiosity."
Alberto failed to notice the subtle, complex oddity hidden in the red-iron dragon's words.
He nodded in sudden realization, his tone tinged with a hint of sentimentality. "I see. Your demeanor is so steady and composed that I almost forgot you also carry that scorching, restless red dragon blood in your veins."
"I can barely sense any of the red dragon's violent and mad impulses within you."
He pressed further. "Is the Blood of the Evil Dragon truly powerless against your will? Or is it because your hybrid nature grants you a stronger iron dragon bloodline, allowing you to suppress and neutralize the chaotic instincts of the red dragon?"
Garos's expression remained unchanged. "Ruling power with reason is one of my firmest convictions."
With that, he composed himself and refocused on the matter at hand, continuing his discussion with Gold Dragon Alberto about other critical, turbulent developments in the Sierre Wilderness.
Beyond the mad red dragon that cast an ominous shadow, the sizable Blue Dragon Clan Alberto mentioned also aroused Garos's high alert.
He had once spoken with a few young dragons who had fled from afar, learning that they had escaped from a strictly hierarchical blue dragon community.
Furthermore, the very nest they so despised and resisted was perched in the Boiling Sea, west of the Sierre Wilderness.
(End of the Chapter)
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