Translator: AnubisTL
"Their avarice has deterred many merchants, forcing them to abandon this route. But overall, the Scaly Earth Rift Road is still far more prosperous than it was at the beginning. Caravans like ours, with a need to pass, will still choose this way."
Albert—that was the surname of the late Viscount Ironthorn.
The Albert Family held a prominent and deeply rooted position within the Duchy of Raymond. At their peak, they had even produced a Marquis of immense power.
Though they had since declined, their glory days long gone, they were still headed by an Earl, with several Viscount Lords guarding their territories.
A starved camel is still bigger than a horse. Their network of connections was vast, and their web of interests far more complex than that of an ordinary Earl's family.
The endless drizzle, like unbreakable threads of silk, shrouded the world in a gray, misty haze.
As time passed, the small merchant caravan, consisting of only a few wagons, slowly approached the checkpoint at the road's junction through the blurring curtain of rain.
Peering through the mist, the outline of a town gradually came into focus—a place that, though small, possessed all the essentials of a proper settlement.
It had been built right alongside the Scaly Earth Rift Road, its low-slung wooden and stone houses huddled together in a cluttered jumble. The thin wisps of cooking smoke rising from the chimneys were quickly scattered by the rain.
This was Creekwood Town.
It had risen from nothing, flourishing as the Scaly Earth Rift Road grew in importance over the past twenty years. The town now primarily served the weary merchant caravans passing through, the soldiers stationed there, and the adventurers who made a living by the blade in the wilderness.
At this moment, the town seemed exceptionally quiet in the rain.
When the caravan finally reached Creekwood Town, the slanted rain was drumming steadily against the tiles of the watchtower's pointed roof.
Six soldiers, cloaked in capes bearing the Albert Family crest, blocked the way at the barricade.
The bald captain at their head had a sharp gaze, scanning the caravan's members like a hawk.
"The usual rules! A thirty percent transit tax on every wagon's cargo!"
The captain tapped the wagon's iron railing impatiently with the scabbard of his sword, rainwater trickling down his glistening bald scalp and into his collar.
He grinned, revealing a row of white teeth, his voice dripping with undisguised greed. "Or... perhaps you have a special donation?"
The old merchant slid down from the wagon with practiced agility and strode toward the captain.
He first respectfully presented the travel permit, stamped with the Duchy of Raymond's crimson seal. Then, as if by magic, he produced two bottles of enticingly amber-colored mead from his robes.
"You've worked hard, sir, braving the wind and rain. A small token to ward off the chill and warm your men's bones," he said, offering the mead with a humble smile and a deep bow.
The bald captain snatched the bottles and stuffed them into his tunic without a word of thanks.
The old merchant leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I heard another caravan 'donated' only twenty gold coins last month."
He subtly raised three fingers, his voice sinking even lower. "Our caravan is a small operation, but we know the rules. We're willing to donate this much—if you'll just be generous enough to issue a receipt for the full tax amount."
The bald captain's eyes narrowed.
This meant he could pocket thirty gold coins for himself while reporting a mere ten to the Viscount's Manor.
"Haha, you're a sensible one!"
The captain burst into a loud laugh, slapping the old merchant's shoulder hard. But as he took the heavy pouch of coins, his expression suddenly soured, and his voice turned icy.
"But things have changed! Times are tough, and my men have expenses. Now... it's this much."
He held up five fingers, waving them in front of the merchant.
Beside them, the young apprentice trembled with rage, his fists clenched tight. Yet he dared not strike out against the armed soldiers. The weapons gleaming at their waists and the alchemy golem standing in the rain, its metallic surface shimmering with a cold luster, were no mere decorations.
"Damned vampires! Greedy bastards!" the apprentice hissed under his breath, his voice barely audible. "It would be better if the wilderness monsters took over this place! At least they aren't this insatiable!"
He had lowered his voice to a near-whisper, and the sound was almost completely drowned out by the pattering rain. But a warrior's keen ears still caught the faint murmur.
"Hmm?!"
The Bald Captain whipped his head around, his gaze locking onto the apprentice with dangerous intensity. "You! What did you just say, you little brat?! Say it again if you've got the guts!"
The old merchant's face paled. His heart sank as he realized the situation had taken a turn for the worse. He braced himself, knowing he'd have to bleed his purse dry to settle this mess.
Just as the tension reached a breaking point and the air itself seemed to freeze,
RIIIIIP—!!!
A terrifying sound, like a massive sheet of leather being torn asunder, suddenly tore through the sky!
A figure of indistinguishable colors unfurled its wings and circled through the gray curtain of rain. As it hovered, the falling raindrops around it seemed to be tainted by an invisible force, instantly turning a grotesque, vivid green.
The moment this Green Rain touched the ground, it began to hiss with a bone-chilling sound.
A thick, sweet-smelling mist spread rapidly. The low-ranking soldiers closest to the impact inhaled just a wisp of it and immediately felt the world spin, their heads swimming as they nearly collapsed on the spot.
Almost simultaneously, the earth shuddered violently.
Emerald-green vines, covered in poisonous barbs and writhing like living creatures, burst from the sodden, muddy ground, coiling around the limbs and torsos of every soldier in sight.
The soldiers' terrified screams and curses were instantly drowned out by the sickening crunch of vines tightening.
Even the massive alchemy golems, forged from heavy metal, were instantly ensnared and strangled by thicker, tougher vines. The immense force made the metal groan in protest as the golems were crushed into giant, constricting green cocoons, unable to move.
A chromatic dragon!
It's a green dragon!
The Bald Captain's pupils shrank violently, a wave of immense terror seizing his heart.
"Enemy attack! It's a—"
His words were cut short by a more savage roar that tore through the wind and rain. A wolf-toothed club, so massive it inspired pure dread, was hurled like a meteor!
THUD!
A sickeningly dull impact echoed.
The club struck the Bald Captain's upper body with pinpoint accuracy, its terrifying force instantly pulverizing him. Scalding blood, mixed with bone shards and minced flesh, erupted like a fountain, splattering the old merchant standing directly in front of him.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
A heavy, rhythmic vibration, like the footsteps of a giant, rumbled from the depths of the rain curtain.
An ogre elite warrior, mounted on a colossal rhinoceros clad in heavy armor, appeared before the stunned garrison soldiers. He moved like a living mountain, casually swatting aside obstructing trees as if they were mere straws.
But this was only the beginning of the disaster.
Hiss... hiss... hiss...
From the depths of the gloomy rain, pairs of cold eyes—shimmering with eerie green, crimson, and ghastly white light like Will-o'-the-Wisps—ignited one after another without warning.
They were countless, layered in endless ranks.
They had already sealed off the entire crossroads, and Creekwood Town with it, leaving no room for escape.
The human garrison's scouts and sentries showed no reaction.
At some unknown point, they had been silently dispatched by lizardfolk assassins lurking in the shadows.
Soldiers were torn apart with ease by the swarming monsters. Alchemy golems were smashed into twisted scrap metal by the monstrous warriors. The scattered resistance was utterly fragile against such overwhelming force.
Many merchants and adventurers stranded in the town huddled under the eaves, watching the scene in terror, paralyzed with indecision.
Just then, the green dragon Ludwig unfurled his wings, circled low in the sky, and let out a deafening roar that proclaimed his dominion.
"From this moment forth! This place is under the control of the mighty Ironforged Tribe!"
"Surrender and live! Resist and—die!"
An old merchant wiped the blood from his eyes with trembling hands and tactfully knelt on the ground, violently pulling his terrified, catatonic apprentice down beside him.
The Ironforged Tribe?
What a familiar, yet heart-stopping name.
More than twenty years ago, those monsters had fled into the wilderness after slaughtering the nobles. Now, they had returned! And their comeback seemed far more unstoppable than ever before.
The wind and rain began to howl.
Yet, an invisible veil, denser than the storm, had already silently descended upon Scaly Earth Rift Road.
Everyone in Creekwood Town knew: the world was about to change.
(End of the Chapter)
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