Translator: AnubisTL
Borderlands, Dragon Valley.
Sunlight streamed down the jagged, steep mountain walls, illuminating the oasis-like territory within the valley.
A wyvern flock soared through the sky, casting shadows across the ground as they patrolled. Hyena-Men and other vigilant familiars guarded the outer sentry posts, alert to any sign of danger.
Garos led the white dragon Treacy into the valley.
"Dragon Lord, you've returned," Tasha, the flying dragon leader, landed before Garos, bowing her head in reverence.
The burly, scarred flying dragon noticed the white dragon accompanying Garos, and her muscles tensed beneath her scales.
"This is the white dragon Treacy. She now follows me and pledges her loyalty to me," Garos declared.
The flying dragon leader lowered her voice and addressed the white dragon, "Noble White Dragon, Tasha greets you."
The pressure emanating from the adult white dragon was second only to Garos himself.
Though the white dragon cowered before Garos, ranking lowest among dragonkind, she remained a dragon nonetheless. To other creatures, she was still a fearsome and powerful top-tier magical creature.
The white dragon merely snorted in response to the subdragon's greeting, exhaling a frigid gust of air from her nostrils.
She offered no reply, instead lifting her head high in a display of haughty disdain.
It was only in the presence of subdragons that the white dragon could truly feel her superiority as a member of dragonkind.
"Tasha, continue your patrols," Garos commanded.
The wyvern didn't immediately spread its wings to take flight. Instead, it rasped, "My lord, the wyvern flock discovered yesterday that a group of minotaur cavalry was attempting to approach Dragon Valley. They wore iron-horned helmets and lingered at the periphery. Upon realizing they had been detected, they abandoned their approach and retreated."
"Minotaurs... are these the Bloodhoof Clan the centaurs spoke of?" the red-iron dragon mused.
The centaurs were nomadic tribes. Before the White Mane Clan was subdued by Garos, they roamed widely across the Borderlands, giving them a thorough understanding of the region.
Through the accounts of the centaur chieftain and the old sorcerer, Garos had learned of the minotaurs' existence.
The Bloodhoof Clan—vast in scale, several times larger than the Centaur Clan—was not a dominant force in the Borderlands, but they had long surpassed the stage of mere survival.
They possessed their own ranches, mineral veins, and a formidable force of warriors and sorcerer-shamans.
Their trade flourished along the great river, and they wielded superior weapons and armor.
Yet, many years ago, the Bloodhoof Clan had been far weaker than the White Mane Clan, teetering on the brink of annihilation in the Borderlands, a clan as insignificant as weeds.
Until the birth of Baal Bloodhoof.
He was born different, with eyes as black as pitch, utterly devoid of any white.
His fur, unlike the typical brown or tan of other minotaurs, was ink-black, darker than the deepest night.
His growth outpaced that of ordinary minotaurs by leaps and bounds.
At the age of twelve, Baal challenged and killed the old chieftain, seizing control of the Bloodhoof Clan. He then led the clan to rapid expansion, absorbing other minotaur clans, crushing any enemies in their path, and solidifying the Bloodhoof Clan's dominance.
The previous White Mane Chieftain had once met Baal.
"He is like a demon from the abyss," the chieftain had declared.
Despite being a centaur brave enough to hunt adult white dragons, the White Mane Chieftain warned his people against provoking the Bloodhoof Clan, let alone making an enemy of Baal.
The red-iron dragon remained silent.
Having just arrived and barely established a foothold in the Borderlands, and with dragon sleep imminent, Garos wanted to avoid trouble and keep a low profile.
However, fate had other plans.
The expanding Bloodhoof Clan had set its sights on Dragon Valley. The retreating minotaur cavalry might one day return with a larger force to reclaim the territory.
Garos now faced a difficult choice:
1. Abandon his territory again, find a new place to lie dormant, and return after dragon sleep.
2. Eliminate the Bloodhoof Clan threat before dragon sleep.
Garos favored the second option.
He had already fled twice and abandoned his territory twice. Unless absolutely necessary, he didn't want to repeat the pattern.
Moreover, the monster clans in the Borderlands were likely less dangerous than the military garrisons in the wilderness.
"The centaur's description wasn't comprehensive enough," Garos mused, his eyes gleaming. "We need to determine the Bloodhoof Clan's approximate strength before making a final decision."
"The crucial question is whether our presence has been discovered."
This was paramount.
If their presence remained hidden, the juvenile dragon lurking in the shadows could maintain the initiative and employ cunning strategies. But if exposed, the situation would become either more complicated—or, conversely, simpler. With both sides in the open, strength would become the primary means of communication.
The Bloodhoof Clan possessed a significant number of sorcerers, shamans, and similar units.
Minotaur shamans were renowned for their prowess, their race and class perfectly aligned. Moreover, Chieftain Bloodhoof, the clan's leader, commanded immense prestige and could not be underestimated.
This meant that attempting to defeat the entire Bloodhoof Clan with a single dragon's strength would be unwise. A full-scale war might be necessary to secure a more stable resolution.
Garos now commanded a considerable number of familiars.
He no longer needed to personally risk everything or storm the Bloodhoof Clan alone.
"Tasha, take the adult wyverns and scout the Bloodhoof Clan for information."
"Remember, your mission is reconnaissance, not combat. Avoid exposure and conflict at all costs."
Garos immediately issued orders to the flying dragon leader.
The Bloodhoof Clan was no insignificant tribe in the Borderlands, and the wyverns were well aware of their territory's location.
As for why he didn't send Treacy, the magic-wielding white dragon, the reason was simple: Garos didn't trust her intelligence. In comparison, the two-hundred-year-old wyvern Tasha was far more reliable.
In Garos's eyes, the white dragon's current role was merely that of a brute force fighter and occasional sparring partner.
He had no intention of entrusting her with tasks like managing the ranch or overseeing mining operations.
"As you command," Tasha replied, gathering several adult wyverns. Their figures gradually receded into the distance, eventually vanishing from sight.
Meanwhile, Garos led Treacy to the open training ground he typically used.
"Use your ice magic on me. Attack with everything you've got."
The red-iron dragon stretched his massive frame, sparks flying from between his thorn spikes. "Don't hold back. I won't retaliate."
"Really?" Treacy eyed him skeptically before tentatively casting an ice magic spell. She conjured several ice blades that scraped across the red-iron dragon's back, emitting a piercing metallic screech.
Seeing that his opponent remained completely still, the white dragon's lips gradually curled into a dangerous grin as she began to conjure an even more powerful spell.
As her dragon's roar echoed through the air, a frigid wind howled, ice crystals formed on the ground, and an intense chill permeated the atmosphere.
Garos, positioned at the center of the icy gale, felt waves of bone-chilling cold wash over him.
His scales absorbed kinetic energy from the relentless wind, heating up until they glowed red-hot. When the scorching scales collided with the icy wind, they hissed and emitted white steam before gradually cooling down.
Heat, cool.
This cycle repeated endlessly within the icy gale, tempering Garos's explosive scales without ever reaching the critical threshold for detonation.
"Excellent. This will enhance my ice resistance and prove effective for my explosive scales," Garos thought, coiled within the icy storm, his body frozen but his spirit ablaze.
"With the white dragon as my new sparring partner, my explosive scales should adapt more quickly, eliminating those ineffective explosions."
Suddenly, an enraged dragon's roar thundered across the sky.
"Insolent White Scale! How dare you attack Dragon Valley!"
A torrent of molten flaming dragon breath rained down from the heavens.
Lost in her spellcasting, Treacy didn't notice the red dragon's arrival. Caught off guard by the sudden attack, she dodged, but dragon breath grazed her back, leaving a scorched, blackened mark.
Hah!
The white dragon bared her teeth, cold qi surging from her mouth, her dragon scales bristling slightly as she assumed an aggressive stance against the red dragon. Samantha showed no fear despite the white dragon's size and age, her eyes burning with hostility as she glared intently at her.
The tension between them was palpable.
However, the battle never began.
Garos intervened.
"Samantha, White Dragon Treacy is now a member of Dragon Valley, not an enemy."
Under the red dragon's questioning gaze, Garos briefly explained the white dragon's origins.
"I see."
Red Dragon Samantha folded her wings and strode arrogantly toward the white dragon.
She made no attempt to conceal her contempt as she sneered, "White Scale, serving the Ignis Brothers and associating with true dragons is a privilege you should cherish."
The white dragon bared her teeth in fury. "Juvenile dragon! Apologize to me! You should show respect when facing a dragon stronger than yourself."
The red dragon snorted, flames erupting from her nostrils.
She offered no reply, merely lifting her head high in a display of haughty disdain.
(End of the Chapter)
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