Burning Steel Fortress, Second Level, Reception Hall.
"Sit."
The Red-Iron Dragon's voice echoed throughout the spacious hall.
His strong, imposing body was the first to lie prone upon a massive, flat stone platform at the head of the hall.
These so-called "seats," similar in layout to the council chamber on the third level, were high platforms carved and polished from single blocks of solid obsidian or lava stone. Their surfaces were broad and flat, spacious enough to accommodate the dragons in various comfortable postures—crouching, coiled, or lying prone and relaxed, just as Garros was doing now.
The other dragons also casually found stone platforms to serve as their seats.
Meanwhile.
The low arches around the hall, designed specifically for servants to pass through, opened silently.
Teams of well-trained servants of various shapes and sizes filed in.
They nimbly wove between the legs and claws of the colossal beasts.
Strong Ogre servants carried whole roasted giant rhinoceros legs that were golden, crispy, and dripping with grease; snake-woman attendants carried silver trays filled with various exotic fruits and strong spirits. Soon, the stone platforms before the dragons were piled high with sumptuous food and fine wine.
A dozen snake-woman dancers stepped into the open space in the center of the hall.
Accompanied by the rhythmic, ancient, and wild drumbeats struck by musicians in the corner, they twisted their serpentine waists and extended their arms like vines, performing a dance filled with primitive flair that seemed to originate from the ancestral sacrificial rites of the tribal era.
Alberto, however, had no time to appreciate it. His gaze swept briefly over the alluring snake-women before he looked away.
He lay silently on his own stone platform, his massive dragon claws grasping the roasted giant rhinoceros leg offered by the Ogre, his sharp teeth tearing off large chunks of charred, fragrant meat, which he chewed quietly.
Being in the heart of the Evil Dragon's territory.
Surrounded by several Evil Dragons with powerful auras and unfriendly gazes, even with the pretext of Garros's "hospitality," the Golden Dragon Alberto remained in a state of high alert.
Even though the delicacies in his mouth were sumptuous, to him at this moment, they were like chewing dry wood shavings—tasteless.
The other dragons appeared much more at ease.
They were clearly accustomed to the atmosphere of the fortress, feasting to their hearts' content. Their sharp dragon teeth easily crushed hard animal bones, and hot, strong spirits poured down their throats like streams, eliciting satisfied low growls or purrs as they enjoyed the lavish feast.
"Let me formally introduce myself. My name is Garros, Garros Ignas."
The Red-Iron Dragon's deep, resonant voice broke the long silence, which had been filled only by the sounds of chewing and drumming.
He turned his gaze toward Alberto.
After a brief pause, Garros got straight to the point and asked the core question: "Alberto, you traveled a great distance to come to The Borderlands, and it certainly wasn't just for that insignificant wealth. Tell me… what is your true purpose?"
At this point, there was no need for further pretense.
The Golden Dragon Alberto swallowed the meat in his mouth and raised his head, which was covered in radiant golden dragon scales. His voice was clear and firm, without the slightest hesitation: "My purpose is to start from The Borderlands—to forge my own 'Golden Law' and establish an eternal 'Golden Order'!"
"Golden Law? Golden Order?"
Garros's eyes flickered slightly, revealing a hint of inquisitive interest. He pressed further: "Why choose The Borderlands? What kind of cornerstone does this land play in your grand blueprint?"
Alberto seemed to have already given this question deep thought.
He spoke slowly: "The Borderlands is like a wedge, firmly embedded between the Serel Wilderness and the Permafrost Tundra. In times of peace, its value might be underestimated, appearing irrelevant."
His dragon claws lightly traced across the stone platform as he continued: "However, the internal conflicts within the Lothern Federation are currently rife, and it is teetering on the brink, like a massive ship about to capsize; and in the northern Permafrost Tundra, the flames of war among the ice-bound tribes are also burning fiercely."
"Under such delicate and turbulent circumstances."
"This seemingly peripheral land will become a key hub, a fulcrum capable of shifting the situation in both the north and the south."
Reasonable… quite precise strategic vision.
Garros thought to himself. While his success in occupying The Borderlands was certainly based on his powerful strength, it also indeed involved a measure of good fortune.
This land could certainly not be called rich or fertile, but its unique geographical location was enough to compensate for the lack of resources.
"Then…" The Red-Iron Dragon leaned forward slightly and asked, "Could you elaborate more on the 'Golden Law' and 'Golden Order' you speak of? I am deeply curious about them."
To discuss one's ideals and pour out the thoughts in one's heart with a fellow traveler who could understand, and perhaps even agree with, one's philosophy.
This was undoubtedly something that would make any ambitious individual feel stirred and greatly pleased.
Alberto was clearly unable to resist this temptation.
Because of Garros's focused listening posture, because of his occasional nodding in agreement, his well-timed approval, and his encouraging gaze… the tight heartstrings of the Young Adult Dragon Alberto gradually relaxed without him realizing it.
It was as if he had opened the floodgates of a reservoir, and he began to speak incessantly about the grand, precise, and even somewhat radical blueprint of his philosophy—about the absolute authority of law, the supremacy of order, and the perfect kingdom of his ideals.
He even temporarily let down his guard.
After only a simple sniff, he began to drink heavily the strong spirits that the servants kept offering.
As the conversation deepened, as time passed, and as Alberto became more and more absorbed in his pouring out of thoughts.
His originally simple, naive image gradually became fuller, more three-dimensional, and clearer in the Red-Iron Dragon's mind.
In essence.
Alberto was like a passionate young man born into a privileged environment who had not yet truly experienced the repeated beatings and ruthless tempering of cruel reality.
He possessed burning ambition, carried seemingly unattainable lofty aspirations, and deep down, there burned a strong resistance and unwillingness to accept a mediocre life as a dragon.
If one were to view a dragon's life as a grand game.
The Evil Dragon was undoubtedly a Hell-difficulty start, with every step accompanied by bloody thorns.
An ordinary Metallic Dragon could be considered normal difficulty; while there was protection, one still needed to strive for oneself.
But a Golden Dragon… especially a Golden Dragon with a pure Bloodline and much favor like Alberto, was almost like starting in beginner protection mode.
They were the natural darlings of the Dragon Clan, bathed in the radiant favor of their parents, grandparents, and even the Dragon God Bahamut.
Growing up in such an environment, almost free from worry, with abundant resources and a bright future.
It seemed… not so hard to understand why an individual like Alberto would appear—someone who felt that a dragon's life was too dull, empty, and lacking in challenges, and thus longed to break tradition, deviate from the norm, and create something with his own hands.
The atmosphere in the reception hall, catalyzed by alcohol and the outpouring of thoughts, became much more harmonious than it had been at the beginning.
Taking advantage of the gap when Alberto paused his speech to drink deeply, Garros spoke again, bringing the topic back to reality:
"So… regarding the matter of compensation mentioned earlier, how have you considered it?"
His voice was calm, with no hint of coercion.
There was not much hesitation. Under the collective gaze of the dragons—Samantha stopped chewing, Tereshi licked her lips, and Solrog's gaze was sharp as a knife—
Alberto took a deep breath, as if to draw all the surrounding air into his lungs.
The drunkenness on his face faded instantly, replaced by a kind of near-sacred solemnity and gravity.
He straightened his dragon body, his voice deep and powerful, as if reading an oath in a holy temple: "I, Alberto Aurelius, in the holy name of the great Platinum Dragon God Bahamut, hereby make an inviolable oath—"
His golden slit pupils swept over Garros: "I will certainly repay all owed debts, with interest, within ten years!"
Hearing this.
The Red-Iron Dragon shook his head ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly.
What he wanted was not that small amount of compensation, but the Golden Dragon himself.
Unfortunately, the other party was, after all, a Young Adult Dragon with a firm will, far from comparable to those ignorant, easily deceived Young Dragons.
Alberto had his own deep-seated ambitions and nearly paranoid philosophy; he was a Golden Dragon with an extremely stubborn nature.
Although this conversation had brought them a bit closer and established a subtle sense of recognition… trying to truly "control" him and incorporate him into his own system… remained as difficult as ascending to the heavens.
However…
Garros did not feel discouraged or disappointed in his heart.
If Dragon Valley could add another powerful Golden Dragon, it would naturally be a wonderful icing on the cake, but if not… for him, it could not be considered any major loss.
"The Borderlands already has a lord like you presiding over it."
Alberto's voice interrupted Garros's thoughts. His tone carried a hint of regret, yet was filled with a new resolve: "It is naturally no longer a part of my original blueprint."
He paused, then continued: "However… the number of ownerless lands around here is still considerable. I will make other plans."
"The Lothern Federation's control over the Serel Wilderness is melting and weakening like ice and snow. I will likely head to that wilderness, which is full of opportunities and challenges, and build the first territory of order under the jurisdiction of the Golden Law with my own hands!"
The Serel Wilderness?
The Red-Iron Dragon mused: "I have a suggestion."
He looked at Alberto and said: "Powerful creatures wanting to bare their fangs, seize benefits, and display their sharpness while the Federation's great ship is capsizing will swarm in like sharks smelling blood, and they are countless."
"By then, the seemingly desolate Serel Wilderness will become a battleground for countless ambitious individuals, marauders, and emerging forces."
"Among them, naturally, are myself and the Molten Iron Tribe I represent."
It was precisely because Alberto sensed the enormous opportunity brought by the internal strife within the Federation that he cast his gaze upon The Borderlands, using it as a springboard.
And Garros, likewise, decided to return to that Serel Wilderness—a place more chaotic yet brimming with infinite possibilities—because he foresaw the storm sweeping through the south!
This world has never lacked those with soaring ambitions.
For power, for resources, for expansion, for survival... or perhaps for some grander ideal.
As time passes, the number of powerful entities flooding into this chaotic land with similar thoughts will only increase.
In order to seize the greatest benefits in the upcoming, unprecedented chaotic situation, and to occupy the most advantageous position in this feast... Garros knew well that the current preparation work must be done as thoroughly as possible!
For instance, securing a potential, powerful ally.
If the Young Adult Golden Dragon before him were pushed to the brink and used his spell scales, he could be comparable to half a mature Golden Dragon for a short time.
He looked calmly at the Young Adult Golden Dragon, his words straightforward to the point of being naked: "At some point in the future, as our respective paths extend and expand across the wilderness, we may inevitably stand on opposite sides, becoming competitors, or even enemies."
Changing the subject, he continued: "However, before that, during the Early Stage of the chaos, when encountering other, more powerful, more greedy, and more threatening enemies."
"As kin flowing with Dragon blood, we can... extend a helping hand to each other. We may be future competitors... but we can also become temporary allies and comrades."
Since Alberto had decided to develop in the Serel Wilderness and still owed him a huge sum of money.
Given this Golden Dragon's stubborn nature and grand goals, he was bound to encounter countless troubles and challenges in the process of expanding his territory and establishing order in the wilderness.
First, become allies and establish a connection.
In the future, there might well be an opportunity to step-by-step bring him under his control and achieve true mastery.
Subduing a few ignorant, tender, and weak Young Dragons is nothing.
Making this proud, persistent, and ambitious Young Adult Golden Dragon lower his noble head bit by bit, becoming obedient, loyal, and eventually willing to serve him—that is the accomplishment that can truly bring a Dragon pleasure.
Upon hearing the Red-Iron Dragon's words.
Alberto did not hesitate much, nodding heavily: "A good suggestion, I am very interested."
He looked directly into the Red-Iron Dragon's eyes and said: "Garros, I can likewise feel your ambition and desire for hegemony. As allies, I am very willing to fight side by side with a like-minded individual."
He paused, then continued in a deep voice:
"When the dust settles in the Serel Wilderness, when the chaos is ended, when only the 'Twin Kings' remain standing on this land, when you and I inevitably stand on opposite sides, becoming each other's sole competitors."
He lifted his head slightly, his Dragon might unconsciously spreading: "I will... give it my all! As the highest respect for you, a powerful opponent!"
Only the Twin Kings—still as confident as ever.
Garros had never thought about ruling the entire Serel Wilderness—that land was too vast, too chaotic, and involved too many forces.
His goal was to take advantage of the chaos to bite off the fattest and most critical pieces from this huge cake as much as possible.
However.
If there were ever a chance in the future to claim the entire wilderness... Garros certainly wouldn't let it slip by.
The Red-Iron Dragon calmly suppressed these thoughts, maintaining a steady expression on his face. He was not like Alberto, who wore his thoughts openly on his face.
"So, happy cooperation?"
"Happy cooperation!"
The two had only a verbal agreement, but Holy Dragons often kept their word and would not break their promises. As for Garros, he dared to stake it on his Evil Dragon Bloodline that he would not easily break this promise either.
After confirming the temporary alliance.
After confirming this temporary alliance based on interests and mutual recognition.
Alberto's tense spirit finally relaxed completely.
He lay back down on the stone platform and grabbed food to put into his mouth again.
A wonderful change occurred; the roasted meat in his mouth seemed to be endowed with a Soul, the charred aroma blooming on the tip of his tongue, the meat juices rich; the iced strong liquor slid down his throat, bringing not a burning sensation, but a tipsy pleasure.
The food finally had the taste it should have, no longer a burden as tasteless as chewing wax.
Hum—!
Suddenly.
A burst of intense arcane aura shone from Alberto's massive Dragon body. Under the slightly surprised gazes of the other Dragons, his giant Dragon body rapidly shrank and transformed.
The light dissipated.
A human male adventurer with a tall, upright posture, golden hair as bright and curly as sunlight, a face as handsome as a classical sculpture, and a face beaming with an incomparably enthusiastic and brilliant smile—Alberto's human form—already stood elegantly upon the stone platform.
Human form and Dragon form.
The temperament and demeanor seemed like two completely different Souls.
The majesty, paranoia, and heaviness of his Dragon form were gone, replaced by a nearly pure, sunny enthusiasm and free-spiritedness.
"Such delicacies and mellow, strong wine..."
The human-form Alberto picked up the wine glass, admiring the liquid inside, which was not actually very clear, his voice light and infectious: "Should be carefully and slowly savored and enjoyed to live up to their value and... the chef's hard work."
He raised an eyebrow, and with a focused and enjoyable expression, began to taste the meal and wine served by the attendants.
After a few cups of strong liquor.
A slight flush appeared on Alberto's cheeks, and his eyes became brighter and more wanton.
He put down the wine glass, turned to Garros, his expression free-spirited: "Garros, you are the first... kin to so directly agree with those ideas of mine!"
He opened his arms as if to embrace the entire hall: "This recognition, this... 'understanding'! It makes me feel incredibly excited and grateful inside!"
He was uncontrollably excited: "Please allow me... to offer a song and dance here to express the joy I feel at this moment, which is hard to put into words!"
Before his voice had faded.
Alberto had already taken out his harp, which emitted a faint woody fragrance, from behind his waist.
Immediately after, under the gaze of the group of Dragons—Garros with a trace of surprise, Samantha frowning in confusion, Tereshi tilting her head curiously, Solrog expressionless—full of astonishment and even some bewilderment.
This "adventurer" had already leaped lightly into the center of the hall, accompanied by the melodious harp music he plucked himself.
His slender, agile body began to dance. The dance moves were sometimes ethereal and elegant like a forest elf, sometimes carrying the graceful fluidity of human court dances, and even incorporated a bit of the rhythm full of primal vitality from the snake-person dancers. The professionalism of his movements, the beauty of his posture, and the depth of his emotion... actually instantly made the snake-women who were originally dancing nearby look dull, causing them to stop their movements in bewilderment.
"Hey! In such a wonderful moment, is there anyone willing to dance with me?"
Alberto spun and leaped, while issuing an enthusiastic invitation to the surrounding giant Dragons.
Naturally, no Dragon responded.
However, Alberto's enthusiasm did not fade in the slightest because of this.
He seemed completely immersed in the ultimate joy brought by the music, dance, and self-expression.
The harp music became more melodious and clear, his dance steps became more free-spirited and unrestrained, and his face beamed with a pure, heartfelt smile of joy.
As if... he had completely forgotten his noble identity as a majestic Golden Dragon, and had also completely ignored that he was in the heart of a fortress surrounded by a group of powerful Evil Dragons.
"This Golden Dragon..."
The Faerie Dragon, who was watching the fun while lying on the edge of Garros's huge ear, couldn't help but poke the Red-Iron Dragon's scales with her little claw, muttering in a tiny voice filled with deep confusion that only he could hear: "Is he... um... schizophrenic here (she pointed to her little head with her little claw)?"
Garros was stunned for a moment upon hearing this, then let out a low, hoarse laugh in his throat.
Schizophrenic?
Perhaps.
According to the vague records and descriptions in the Bloodline Legacy, almost all Golden Dragons have a bit of this trait in their bones.
Otherwise, how could they switch between playing different roles so smoothly and seamlessly, as if they possessed multiple completely different Souls?
Thinking on a deeper level...
Garros's vertical pupils reflected the golden figure singing and dancing in the center of the hall, and a hint of realization flashed through his heart.
Perhaps it is precisely because of the overly simple and smooth lives of Golden Dragons, which lack sufficient challenges and waves.
That makes them need this nearly schizophrenic way of acting to actively seek some different excitement and fun for their long and slightly monotonous Dragon lives.
"To be able to be so leisurely that one becomes schizophrenic... I'm not envious, nothing to be envious of."
Garros steadied his mind, thinking.
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