Chapter 314: The Dragons' Revenge Plan

Chapter 314: The Little Dragons’ Revenge Plan

Faced with Gold Dragon Alberto’s once more thunderous challenge, the humanoid who stood there—muscular, statuesque, and imposing—only slightly lifted his gaze. A flicker of thought passed through his eyes, but he did not answer immediately.

At the same time, a faint glow flashed.

His human form dissolved at incredible speed, and the massive, awe-inspiring true dragon body reappeared, black scales gleaming with a metallic sheen.

Facing Alberto, who suddenly shifted from a taunting tone to a formal challenge,

Garoth understood in his heart and could roughly guess where the other’s confidence came from.

When ordinary Chromatic Evil Dragons transform into a fragile human shape, their unfamiliar, drastically different body structure usually limits them to about fifty percent of their base power—assuming they are already somewhat proficient in Transformation. For a young dragon like Garoth, who had only just mastered Transformation for the first time, the situation should be far worse.

Under normal circumstances, unfamiliarity with the human body causes severe coordination problems; even basic force generation becomes troublesome, and effective strength can plummet to a pitiful twenty to thirty percent.

By contrast, Alberto—a Gold Dragon much older than Garoth—has practiced Transformation for decades.

His command of the human form was already consummate, allowing him to utilize roughly seventy percent of his true strength.

Seventy percent against thirty percent!

A nearly forty-point gap in human-form performance.

In Alberto’s view, such a disparity was a godsend—his odds of winning were enormous, near total dominance. Advantage: him!

What Alberto did not know,

and what none of the other dragons or their followers present could have guessed,

was that although Garoth disliked the power loss tied to human form, he possessed an unusually deep understanding of human anatomy and force application.

In battle,

he would never suffer the clumsy, poorly coordinated mistakes that typically plague beginners.

In fact, the moment he transformed, the strength he could marshal already matched the level of those who had long mastered the art; he stood solidly above the fifty-percent threshold.

In short, Alberto’s rosy plans were likely to evaporate into mere fantasy.

“He currently only has about thirty percent of the principal debt left…”

“If he loses this challenge to me, even if I add the wager for this bout, the debt principal will only rebound to around sixty percent. That’s not a huge sum.”

“As long as this brat behaves and doesn’t make things harder for himself, it shouldn’t take too long to pay it off.”

Garoth’s gaze swept over Alberto’s confident face.

“Once the debts are settled, if I later want to hire him for a job, I’ll have to go through more trouble and persuasion,” he calculated in a flash.

Finally, his majestic dragon face assumed a solemn expression. He lifted his rugged chin slightly, showing a calm yet subtly proud demeanor.

“Alberto.”

Garoth’s deep and resonant voice rolled like distant thunder and smothered the surrounding clamor.

“Alberto, you seem quite confident in victory.”

He lowered his eyes, looking down at the gold dragon in human guise, and said, “But I do not think I will lose either.”

“True, this is my first time using the human form, but the long sleep I underwent improved me far beyond what you imagine.”

“I am certain that even in this restrictive shape, the result of this challenge will end—just as in all our past clashes—with your defeat.”

From the calm depths of the red iron dragon’s gaze, Alberto distinctly sensed a subtle, nearly imperceptible contempt.

He admitted that before Garoth’s last slumber and subsequent growth, even with decades of his own painstaking training, he probably would not have been a match for this transformed young red iron dragon in dragon form.

Alberto was a proud Gold Dragon, but he was not blind to the situation.

However!

When it came to skill and experience in human form—

confidence blazed in Alberto’s chest. Decades of practice, countless walks among humans in disguise, had given him unparalleled proficiency!

In human-form contests, he was certain to win.

“No, Garoth.”

Alberto straightened his chest; golden hair whipped in the firelight as he spoke with absolute certainty, “The winner will be me!”

“Oh? So sure?”

Garoth drew out the last syllable of his word and said, “Since you’re so confident, and I’m equally certain I can win, why don’t we raise the stakes a bit?”

Alberto thought for a moment and asked, “What wager do you want to add?”

“Simple.”

“If you lose, then all the debt relief I granted you during my slumber will be void. Your debts will revert to their original status.”

Alberto’s heart sank.

That meant his previous efforts to repay would be rendered meaningless.

But Garoth’s next words made his heart stutter.

“Conversely, if you defeat me in this human-form duel,”

“I will not only keep your debt relief valid, I will also pay you an additional doubled, generous reward.”

“How about that?”

“All right! It’s a deal!”

Alberto answered with a voice like a hammer strike, his eyes flashing with greed for wealth and victory.

If he beat Garoth, he would not only free himself from the debt quagmire but also gain a huge windfall.

As for losing? Impossible! He had been transforming into human form proficiently decades ago and had abundant real combat experience—how could he lose to a novice who had barely learned Transformation and couldn’t even conjure proper clothing?

“Foolish Gold Dragon, it seems destined to keep working for us,”

Not far away, iron dragon Sorog sipped sweet honey syrup without changing expression. On the other side, red dragon Samantha tore off a charred chunk of roasted beast and bit into it fiercely. Each of them privately thought the same thing.

Although they didn’t fully understand the source of Garoth’s confidence, they knew their brother well.

Garoth would never act without reason or fight a battle he couldn’t win.

This poor gold dragon, it seemed, was once again being toyed with—completely unaware.

“Let the challenge begin after the banquet ends.”

Hearing Alberto’s eager acceptance, the red iron dragon nodded in satisfaction.

Alberto grew even more elated and melted back into revelry, singing and dancing as if victory were already in his pocket, and the atmosphere grew even more convivial.

Outside the valley, wind and snow still howled and whipped through the black night.

Inside Dragon Valley, the blazing bonfires and magical illuminations made the land as bright as day; laughter mingled with deep dragon roars.

As time passed, Garoth drank a mouthful of thick black oil and consumed several pieces of monster essence rich with magic. He felt power swell and surge inside him; his condition steadily climbed toward peak levels, and his spirit became increasingly vigorous.

His strength reached a new height, bolstered further by the presence of a hidden reserve energy.

A fierce confidence—Who can kill me? Who can defeat me?—almost burst from his chest.

Garoth even entertained a strong impulse to beat his wings and fly straight to the Ser Wilderness, to proclaim his rule over that wide land, forcing all living things to bow under his dragon wings and turning any who resisted to ash.

Hah...

With a slow, deep breath, those sudden hot impulses and reckless thoughts were instantly doused as if plunged into cold water.

Although every awakening after slumber amplifies the primal desires and instincts in an Evil Dragon’s bloodline,

the increase in those urges was far outpaced by Garoth’s growth in will and temperament.

His control over his emotions had already reached a masterful level—he could restrain or unleash at will.

Not only had he tempered impulses for battle and conquest; even the dragon-born instinctive lust for wealth now found it increasingly difficult to sway his heart. When he had been extremely weak earlier, he had swallowed more than twenty priceless magic gems in one go without much torment; he had not reached his limit.

“How are things at the Lothrian royal court right now?”

Garoth turned his thoughts to business. His massive head turned toward iron dragon Sorog. Rather than speak aloud, he used Bloodline Connection to send his voice directly into the other’s mind.

“Shortly after I woke a few years ago, Gordon also awoke, and we reestablished contact immediately.”

The iron dragon responded, passing along compiled information into Garoth’s awareness.

“According to intelligence Gordon obtained... after the contemporary monarch’s bloody palace coup, though the surface unrest in the Lothrian royal court has gradually quieted, beneath the surface the currents remain turbulent and people are uneasy.”

“Many nobles, even branches of the royal family, still privately gossip and continuously cast aspersions on the king’s illegitimate rise.”

Garoth’s gaze flickered as he considered the facts.

When he learned of the old king’s critical sickness years ago, he had already gathered general information about several important Lothrian princes through various channels.

The first in line, the eldest prince, was a typical conservative heir—addicted to indulgence, mediocre in talent... almost a copy of the old monarch in youth.

Yet he was not without advantage.

The eldest prince excelled at flattering power; he could win the old king’s favor, and that favor was his greatest political capital. He understood noble games well, moved deftly through the ranks, and by promising things leveraged the crown prince position to win the support of many noble lords—his backing ran deep.

The second prince, the one who ultimately murdered his brother, was an entirely opposite type.

He was hot-blooded and plucked for power, and he himself possessed notable talent.

In his youth, he volunteered for hardship, forsaking palace comforts and throwing himself into the brutal life of the military camp. Ruthless and decisive, he won the respect and loyalty of common soldiers through iron rule and bravery, building considerable prestige and attracting the favor of many higher officers, even generals.

But his flaw was obvious.

Too rigid and unbending—better to snap than to bend.

In his youth, unable to tolerate the arrogance of a noble’s son, he once killed a corrupt marquis’ son in the street. Though it displayed blood and courage, it sowed seeds of trouble.

As he aged, he became increasingly intolerant of corruption and greed among nobles. His harsh methods made many enemies and he was ostracized by the noble circle.

Most of the time he stayed away from the political center, posted at the border on the front lines, living a pure military life—more a general than a prince.

Only when the old king fell gravely ill and summoned all his children back to the palace did this second prince return in a dusty rush from the front.

When the old king, weak on his deathbed, announced the eldest prince as successor, the second prince reportedly remained silent and expressionless, showing no outburst in the moment.

However, shortly after the old king’s funeral, on the eve of the eldest prince’s coronation,

this seemingly resigned and disinterested silent general struck with thunderous force, unleashing a shock that rocked the Federation.

Blood stained the palace; he murdered his brother and seized the throne.

“This entire process is filled with too many baffling questions.”

Garoth analyzed calmly. “As one of the Federation’s core powers, Lothrian’s palace must have legendary protectors and the most important magical barriers.”

“The heir apparent’s ascension would attract the sharpest guard forces, under the watchful eyes of many. How did the second prince manage to carry out fratricide and a coup right under the noses of palace guards and those legendary defenders? After he succeeded, how did he quickly pacify the situation, intimidate all potential dissenters—especially the legendary figures who backed the eldest prince—and then seize the throne without plunging the kingdom into large-scale civil war?”

A string of questions circled in Garoth’s mind.

He pondered for a moment and asked, “What role did Crystal Princess Elina play in all this?”

Sorog’s mental response carried a trace of caution: “Gordon reports that at the bloody moment of the coup, the Crystal Princess was not present in the palace, so she does not know the most core, specific details of the assassination. However…”

Sorog sent more: “…she has always been close to the second prince.”

“When she was quite young, she often expressed admiration for her brother who fought on the front lines, and she even confided to Gordon her envy of the second prince’s military life.”

“After the usurpation, she was among the first royal family members to openly voice support for the second prince’s accession.”

Sorog continued: “After the hot-blooded new king took the throne, in the name of maintaining the Holy King’s lineage and preserving the Federation’s unity and stability, he declared full war against the Kingdom of Rybos, expanding what was originally a proxy conflict into a full royal war.”

“During this time, the Crystal Princess’s dealings with us did not cease; in fact, after Gordon woke, her contact became more frequent and urgent. She repeatedly reached out via Gordon, promising richer rewards than before and seeking to contract dragon forces to strike at Rybos’s logistical strongholds and various camps in the wilderness.”

The voice paused; Sorog added, “However, considering you were still asleep and the dragon host lacked a unified core will, I asked Gordon to decline these commissions on the grounds that the dragon group’s core members were still dormant.”

Garoth’s gaze narrowed; a sharp light flashed in his dragon pupils.

“Next time she offers such a contract, accept it,” he decided.

The borderland’s situation had worsened, resources were dwindling, and the Federation’s control over the wilderness had dropped to rock bottom; moreover, Garoth himself had now awakened.

The time had come.

The Molten Iron Tribe’s march into and expansion across the Ser Wilderness was about to officially begin!

Red iron dragon Garoth’s eyes reflected the firelight of the banquet and seemed to visualize the Ser Wilderness burning soon.

“There’s one more thing.” Sorog shifted the topic.

“Nick requests a private audience.”

Nick—the once down-and-out, humble little merchant who had grown into the head of a vast Gem Merchant Consortium and become crucial to the Molten Iron Tribe’s development—was now a significant follower.

“Mortal lives are too short,” Garoth thought of the old retainer. “He has no special vocation talent; he’s just an ordinary man, nearing the end of his natural life.”

He remembered the promise he had once made to Nick.

If Nick ever possessed a desperate, all-or-nothing will to survive, Garoth would grant him the chance to be transformed into a dragon-vein creature, prolonging his life and loyalty.

But dragon vein transformation carried tremendous risk, and a practical problem emerged.

“If Nick dies, the gem consortium he built might descend into turmoil and a power vacuum.”

“He’s exceptionally shrewd, knows how to read the times, and his loyalty has been proven.”

“But what about his successor? I cannot guarantee his heir will be as clever, as loyal, or as capable of understanding and executing my will efficiently.”

Garoth weighed pros and cons in silence.

After thinking, he glanced toward a noisy corner of the banquet hall.

The two large heads of green dragon Ludwig and black dragon Seraphina were bent together like conspirators whispering.

Although the banquet clamor was loud, their voices were low; Garoth still caught a few fragmented words:

“White-scale,” “Four against one,” “Must have revenge,” “Avenge,” “Insult.”

He did not need to listen further. Coupled with the two adolescent dragons’ past sufferings and the excited gleam in their eyes, Garoth immediately saw through the plot they were hatching.

It was obvious.

As they themselves grew and their ecological niche steadily rose—narrowing the gap with the white dragons—these adolescent dragons could no longer tolerate the humiliation and oppression from mature white dragon Trixie. They were secretly plotting an underdog’s revenge.

As for the eye of the storm,

what was middle-aged white dragon Trixie doing?

Her huge, snowy body lounged comfortably atop a small mound of frozen meat and ice blocks. Her enormous left claw held an icebound rock-antelope larger than her dragon head; her right claw cradled a bucket of mead she drank with evident pleasure, while a little white dragon massaged her paw.

She seemed completely unaware of the adolescent dragons’ scheme, fully immersed in the banquet’s merry atmosphere.