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Translator: AnubisTL
"What does Vera need to do?"
The fairy dragon emerged from the nearby flower bushes, circling Garos and asking eagerly.
"Your mission is the most crucial," Garos replied. "Stay in Dragon Valley and guard our territory alongside the Earthstorm Bears."
As he spoke, he carefully observed the fairy dragon. Compared to their first meeting, her vibrant colors remained vivid, but had deepened into richer hues.
Fairy dragons age differently from other dragons. Vera, now nearly fifty years old, was already considered a mature adult.
As an ultra-small, miniature dragonkind, fairy dragons typically live only a little over two hundred years.
This meant that by the time Garos reached his prime, Vera would be entering her twilight years. Moreover, being inherently weaker than other dragons, she would struggle to prolong her twilight.
If Vera dies, where will I get my scale powder?
With this thought, Garos extended a claw and gently poked the fairy dragon's head.
"What was that for?"
The fairy dragon was knocked off balance by the poke. After regaining her footing, she huffed indignantly.
"Nothing, just felt like it."
Garos studied the fairy dragon for a few seconds before shaking his head and saying casually, "I forgive you."
He temporarily pushed aside the matter of the fairy dragon's lifespan. After all, she was currently in her prime, far from her twilight years.
"Then you have to forgive me too!" Fairy Dragon Vera said with a mischievous grin. "I always get this itchy feeling, like I can't resist playing pranks. So next time I stuff tickle flowers up your nose, you have to forgive me too."
"It's a deal! No take-backs!"
Without waiting for Garos's specific response, she hastily flew away after declaring her terms, as if this unilateral agreement would grant her a 'get-out-of-jail-free card' for future pranks against him.
"What do you need me to do?" Red-Silver Dragon Deborah asked, blinking her eyes. "Go straight to the battlefield and kill enemies?"
Garos pondered for a moment before replying, "Like Vera, guard Dragon Valley." He paused, then added, "The difference is, Dragon Valley will truly depend on you for its defense."
Once the battle officially began, the Gold Tooth Tribe's counterattack would inevitably follow.
Unlike the Bloodhoof Clan, the Gold Tooth Tribe excelled in alchemy and industry, making their main stronghold as impregnable as a fortress of gold. The 'exchange bases' tactic that had worked before would be ineffective against them.
Dragon Valley, the central hub of the Ironforged Tribe, held extraordinary significance.
It couldn't be surrendered carelessly. When Garos went to war, a guard was needed to prevent unforeseen disasters.
The red-silver dragon was an ideal guardian.
On the battlefield, where blades clashed and survival was paramount, even her status as a metallic dragon couldn't deter enemies. But within Dragon Valley, where her primary duty was defense rather than mortal combat, the situation would be different.
"Agreed. I will ensure the valley's safety," the red-silver dragon nodded.
Chaotic good was still good. Though her moral boundaries were flexible, her inherent nature as a benevolent dragon made her uninterested in the carnage of the battlefield.
Directly participating in combat was less appealing than shouldering the responsibility of defense. Repelling invaders would suffice.
Time flowed silently onward.
The Ironforged Tribe prepared for war with feverish intensity.
Multi-pronged warfare, with its simultaneous battles across multiple fronts, demanded far more of commanders than large-scale frontal assaults. It tested their ability to coordinate the entire campaign and maintain strategic oversight.
After a day's rest, the Iron Dragon Solgorn had partially recovered from his spirit energy exhaustion.
He issued detailed instructions to the familiar bosses at each stronghold, covering every detail and nuance they needed to consider. This ensured they understood their objectives, missions, and how to execute them.
Legions, meticulously assembled and strategically deployed, stood poised to strike.
The attacks on the Gold Tooth Tribe's riverside stronghold continued as usual, serving as a diversion.
Before long, dawn was about to break for the seventh time.
In the southeastern Frontierlands, on the Black Iron Plains, lay the Gold Tooth Tribe's main stronghold.
The goblins here were no mere green-skinned clowns tinkering with explosive potions. They had established an extraordinary industrial domain, utterly out of place in the Frontierlands.
Rust-iron spires and black smoke pierced the sky, the ceaseless grinding of gears filled the air, and rows of alchemy workshops stood shoulder to shoulder, painting a landscape where barbarism and precision intertwined in alchemical hues.
Though still nascent, the Gold Tooth Tribe's alchemy industry had already taken root.
Thirty conveyor belts, driven by black oil-powered wheels, moved ceaselessly. Each belt carried components for alchemy golems in various stages of assembly, from the most basic ironworker slave to the flesh rippers.
The goblin overseers brandished electrified whips, their shrill voices urging the workers along the assembly line.
Their slaves were also goblins, but unlike the diminutive common goblins, these were a group of towering, muscular Bear Goblins, each wearing an electrified collar. At first glance, they resembled giant bears standing upright.
Bear Goblins were cousins of the common goblins, known for their dull-wittedness but savage ferocity. In ancient times, their immense strength had made them the ruling class of goblin tribes. Now, however, common goblins had used their intelligence to enslave the Bear Goblins, treating them as mere laborers and even studying their breeding patterns.
At the heart of the tribe stood the palace of the grand artificer. Unlike typical tribes that revered their leaders as chieftains, the Gold Tooth Tribe's leader was honored as the grand artificer.
His palace, situated at the tribe's center, was entirely constructed of metal and machinery, its surface faintly etched with runes. The architecture was both crude and grand, blending primitive elements with a refined, mechanical aesthetic.
At this moment, within the metallic palace, the goblin elders of the Gold Tooth Tribe had gathered.
The leader looked much like any other goblin, but his attire was remarkably refined. A monocle perched on his face, and his alchemical robes were intricately embroidered with gears, levers, and other mechanical motifs. He sat regally in a high-backed chair cast from metal.
This was Scott, the grand artificer.
He was the true master of all alchemy workshops and the highest-ranking alchemist in the Gold Tooth Tribe.
In the council chamber, eight goblin elders, all alchemists themselves, sat in rows on either side. Each bore visible signs of alchemical modification: a sleek metal arm, a third mechanical hand extending from a shoulder, an expressionless iron mask, and more.
Among the most common paths of advancement for alchemists was the alchemical ascension.
This involved assimilating with metal and machinery through alchemical modification, completely shedding one's fleshly form. It was a path often chosen by alchemists who were naturally physically frail, allowing them to gradually break free from the limitations of their biological bodies as they grew in power.
The advantage of alchemical modification for sorcerers is that it greatly enhances their lifespan, combat capabilities, and other attributes.
The drawback is that by losing their soul-aligned physical body, their soul becomes unstable. The alchemical modification also affects their thinking, making it increasingly rigid and mechanical, gradually stifling their creative inspiration. The more extensive the modification, the more severe this problem becomes.
Legend has it that the advanced artificial intelligence powering the first interstellar spaceship created by Nausir, the Elven Empire, was essentially a high-level alchemist who had lost their soul and self.
Returning to the main topic:
The grand artificer had also undergone alchemical modification, but his mastery of the technique was so refined that it was undetectable by outward appearances.
"After a month of negotiations with the Venomtail Tribe, we have temporarily reached a peace agreement," said a goblin elder whose eye had been replaced with a crystalline implant.
The Venomtail Tribe, one of the Four Great Tribes of the Frontierlands, was composed of serpentmen. Their tribe boasted the highest concentration of sorcerers, shamans, and other transcendent beings in the Frontierlands, and they were skilled in voodoo curse and similar arts. The tribe also fielded a substantial number of bloodthirsty and ferocious serpentman warriors.
Among the Four Great Tribes, the Venomtail Tribe and the Gold Tooth Tribe harbored the deepest animosity.
Serpentmen relished hunting goblins for food.
Before the Gold Tooth Tribe discovered the black oilfield and rose to prominence, they had suffered greatly at the hands of the serpentmen. Tracing their lineage, nearly every modern goblin could claim ancestors who had perished in the serpentmen's jaws.
Goblins were notoriously vengeful creatures.
Yet, when faced with wealth and resources, they could suppress their hatred and adopt a more farsighted approach.
In the goblins' eyes, the other three tribes were shortsighted, failing to grasp the importance of trade and economics.
Several years ago, a goblin elder renowned for his mastery of trade proposed a monopolization plan.
By controlling trade routes and monopolizing the flow of goods between the Frontierlands and the federation, they aimed to gradually accumulate wealth and power. Using economic leverage, they would suppress the other tribes, positioning themselves to become the King of the Crossroads and even establish a goblin nation within the Frontierlands as a member of the federation.
To monopolize the Estonian Great River's riverbanks within the Frontierlands and dominate trade,
The Gold Tooth Tribe's envoys shuttled between the major tribes, promising benefits, ceding interests, and meticulously negotiating to overcome any opposition.
They focused on the future, sparing no expense in short-term investments.
If their monopoly plan succeeded, the other tribes would eventually repay their initial gains with interest.
Even the envoy originally sent to the Ironforged Tribe had been dispatched to pave the way for their monopoly plan.
However, at the time, the Ironforged Tribe had been in continuous retreat for years due to the deep slumber of the red-iron dragon. In the goblins' eyes, they appeared weak and insignificant, unworthy of enticement, so they resorted to direct coercion.
This proved to be a miscalculation.
The Ironforged Tribe's resilience far exceeded their expectations.
Now, they had even launched a counterattack against the Gold Tooth Tribe's riverbank stronghold.
But none of this was the most critical issue.
The most important thing was:
"The Ironforged Tribe understands the importance of economics and trade, and their rise has been rapid. To ensure the success of our monopoly plan, we must eliminate them," the three-handed goblin elder whispered.
"Apart from the Gold Tooth Tribe, no other tribe in the Frontierlands shall be allowed to excel in trade."
"They'll take our gold coins! This is unforgivable."
The goblin elder with the metal arm nodded in agreement.
"We've forged an alliance with the Venomtail Tribe, the most dangerous of all, and even signed a magic contract. Now is the time to concentrate our forces and eradicate the Ironforged Tribe."
Another goblin elder spoke, his eyes gleaming with ambition:
"Those dragonkind... every part of their bodies is made of top-tier alchemical materials. If we could enslave them and use their dragon breath to fuel our furnaces day and night, we could drastically increase our production capacity and the quality of our goods."
(End of the Chapter)
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