Translator: AnubisTL
The Ironforged Clan's familiars marched in a long, winding column, like a colossal serpent slithering through the muddy, rocky wasteland.
Ogres, their broad shoulders straining under heavy loads, strode with steady steps. Hyena-Men, baring their fangs, vigilantly scanned every suspicious shadow. Kobolds carefully tended to their young, their rough claws guiding the little ones through the treacherous terrain.
The earthstorm bear pack from Needleleaf Valley had also joined the procession. These massive demonic retainers, alongside the red dragon and iron dragon, cleared the path ahead.
Yet the wilderness remained fraught with peril.
A hungry pride of savage lions prowled the distant ridges, their tawny eyes gleaming with predatory hunger. Venomous snakes lurked in the withered grass, their scales rustling against the sand. Occasionally, wandering undead crawled from the earth, their decaying bones clattering eerily in the wind.
These threats forced the party to slow their pace.
Several Kora Giant Eagles patrolled the perimeter, acting as sentries. Their piercing cries served as warnings upon detecting danger.
Garos circled high above, his black eyes sharp as daggers, scanning the distant horizon. His dragon might radiated like an invisible barrier, dominating the surrounding airspace. Eagles, vultures, and winged beasts alike veered away, not daring to approach.
Yet the threats on the ground remained undiminished.
Whenever a reckless demonic beast sprang from the undergrowth, Red Dragon Samantha would surge forward, her fangs erupting with searing dragon flame that incinerated the attacker into charred remains.
Iron Dragon Solgorn, a silent reaper, tore apart cunning beasts attempting flanking maneuvers with his steel-like claws.
Though physically frail, Fairy Dragon Vera possessed the keenest spiritual senses.
She danced lightly above the party, her illusion magic weaving roars of colossal dragons that often deterred lurking threats.
Should a stubborn enemy persist, a single call from her would summon the red dragon and iron dragon like thunderbolts, crushing the threat utterly.
As time passed, the dark clouds gradually dispersed, and long-absent sunlight bathed the migrating party.
This warmth felt like a rare luxury on their northward journey.
The air grew colder by the hour.
Their exhaled breath condensed into white mist that vanished swiftly in the icy morning light.
The surrounding vegetation thinned, dense forests giving way to sparse shrubs, and the desolate, frigid atmosphere intensified.
Red Dragon Samantha, particularly sensitive to the cold, seethed with restless fury beneath her scales.
Her attacks grew increasingly savage; even harmless beasts that strayed into her sight were mercilessly scorched by her fiery wrath.
The party continued north, each step taking them further from the sweltering wilderness and closer to the frigid tundra.
"It's different now," Garos thought, surveying the vast landscape from above. "As our clan has grown, with more followers and chosen, the migration has become longer and slower."
He remembered their first migration from Hemlock Hills to Needleleaf Valley. Back then, he only had to worry about himself, making the journey swift and effortless.
At Garos's speed, he could have reached their destination alone by now.
Migrating with the entire Ironforged Clan was far more cumbersome. Yet he couldn't dismiss his chosen as mere burdens during the migration, forgetting the benefits they had provided before.
Most of the time, Garos left the management of his chosen to Solgorn.
Weighing the advantages and disadvantages, the benefits his chosen clans brought far outweighed this inconvenience. Abandoning them to gather new followers would only waste more time.
"If the Ironforged Clan continues to grow and expand, future migrations will become even more arduous."
"I hope this forced migration is our last."
"Next time, it should be my enemies fleeing before my might, forced to cower before my blade."
Garos's eyes flickered with ambition as he fantasized about leading his forces to crush the Lothurn Federation Legion, freeing him from the need to flee in fear of their military might.
After a dozen seconds, he took a deep breath, suppressing his surging emotions, and resumed circling high above the azure sky.
Meanwhile, Viscount Ironthorn's dragon hunting group followed the blood curse's guidance, hacking through the wilderness's mud and thorns.
Though the tracking spell was imprecise, it was sufficient to pinpoint the general direction of their quarry: north.
"The trail is growing clearer. We're on the right track," the spellcaster said, crouching down to brush his fingertips across a patch of crushed moss, which still carried a faint, feral stench.
"These creatures seem to be trying to leave the wilderness and head toward the tundra."
The spellcaster nodded, a glint of greed in his eyes. "They planned their migration before launching their attack on the mines. Intelligent, decisive, and operating in packs—it's been ages since we've encountered young evil dragons like this, especially the hybrid dragon leading them. Capturing it would bring us unparalleled glory."
The deputy commander, clad in black heavy armor and carrying a dragon-slaying greatsword, spoke solemnly, "We need to increase our pace. If these creatures cross the Estonian Great River, tracking them will become far more difficult."
Viscount Ironthorn nodded silently, his gaze dark and brooding.
Guided by the blood curse, the dragon hunting group hacked their way through the wilderness, relentlessly pursuing their quarry.
By the fourth day at dusk, as they approached the southern bank of the Estonian Great River, they finally spotted their target party. First, they noticed the Kora Giant Eagle and iron dragon circling overhead, then, aided by the spellcaster's concealment spells, they slowly closed in.
Including Viscount Ironthorn, the dragon hunting group averaged a life grade of around 12. Though small in number, each member was an elite warrior.
Masters of stealth and seasoned veterans, they evaded the watchful eyes of the iron dragon and giant eagle patrolling the skies, as well as the hidden sentries lurking on the ground.
They observed a sprawling monster horde stretching for two miles along the riverbank, preparing to rest for the night.
Hyena-Men waded into the shallows to fish, ogres marked the boundaries of their temporary camp with urine, while lizardfolk and kobolds, skilled builders, worked with the aid of tribal sorcerers to construct massive wooden rafts for the upcoming river crossing.
Most striking of all were the two dragons.
The Red Dragon Samantha was impatiently drying her wings, which had become damp from the river's mist.
The robust and imposing hybrid dragon pressed its head against the ground, using its neck to support its rolling body, continuing its training even during the migration.
"Now is the perfect opportunity," a dragon hunter whispered.
"The most powerful hybrid dragon is on the ground."
Viscount Ironthorn cast a discreet glance at the swarming monsters, frowned, and asked, "How should we deal with these creatures? Their individual strength isn't high, but their sheer numbers, combined with the presence of elite bosses, could overwhelm us."
The sheer number of monsters present posed a significant threat. They could easily exhaust the dragon hunting group through attrition.
Although the group members were all elites, they lacked the innate advantages of dragonkind. Their physical and magical reserves were limited. Facing a massive swarm of monsters, especially with a juvenile dragon among them, they risked being overwhelmed.
The spellcaster smiled faintly.
"Viscount, there's no need to worry," he said. "We're a professional dragon hunting group. Dragon hunting is our livelihood and our honor. We've long anticipated the issue of dragon familiars."
As he spoke, the spellcaster produced a crimson stone tablet etched with reverse scale patterns. Its surface was covered in dense, intricate magical runes that seemed to blur the vision upon closer inspection.
"This is the gladiator formation plate, our dragon hunting group's greatest asset—the crowning achievement of an alchemy master's life's work," the spellcaster explained.
"Once activated, the gladiator formation plate creates an independent space, dragging the target into it. We'll imprint the plate beforehand, allowing us to enter simultaneously."
"At that point, neither side can escape until one is completely annihilated."
"Moreover, it has a teleportation function. The victor can teleport once within a hundred-mile radius, allowing us to evade encirclement."
Relying on the gladiator formation plate, they had once ignored swarms of demonic retainers to hunt a newly adult black dragon in the marshlands.
"Let's target the hybrid dragon first—it's the leader."
"Once we hunt it down, the leaderless dragons will be much easier to deal with, whether we choose to retreat or continue hunting."
Their current target was the juvenile dragon. Though a Red Iron Hybrid, it was far weaker than a black dragon. However, given its age, its life grade couldn't possibly exceed that of an adult black dragon, ensuring it would never be stronger than their previous prey.
(End of the Chapter)
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