Translator: AnubisTL
Alberto slowly raised his massive head, covered in brilliant gold scales, his vertical pupils fixing upon the red-iron dragon.
He spoke in a deep voice, "Tell me, what price must I pay for this?"
He was stubborn, his self-awareness so intense it bordered on extremism. Yet, surprisingly, all his thoughts and emotions were written plainly across his draconic face, devoid of any pretense or guile.
Dealing with such a dragon was, in a way, simpler and more direct.
A glint of understanding flashed in the red-iron dragon's eyes as his low voice echoed across the empty land: "Since you insist on a clear price, then we shall abide by the laws and rules of the Frontierlands."
He paused before continuing, "According to the rules, the only fitting end for the plunder you have committed is to wash away your sins with death."
Then, his tone shifted.
"However, I admire your philosophy. Therefore, as the King of the Frontierlands, I grant you partial amnesty."
He extended a dragon claw covered in hard scales, raising a single sharp talon. "You need only repay ten times the total wealth you plundered from the Ironforged Tribe, and this matter will be settled."
Ten times?! The number struck Alberto's heart like a heavy hammer.
A look of unconcealable distress crossed his draconic face.
Due to his extreme and grand Oath of Conquest and Oath of the Crown, as well as his own fiercely stubborn personality, he had always been under the strict supervision of his elders.
He had only managed to slip away from their sight and embark on his own journey because they had been summoned away to the Dragon Realm.
Before this... this ambitious young gold dragon had actually been strictly limited by his elders in the ways he could acquire wealth.
Every single scale on his body shone with a noble golden light, making him look as rich as a nation, but in reality, he was broke—so broke that his pockets rattled with emptiness.
The largest sum of wealth he had on hand was precisely the treasure he had extorted from the Ironforged Tribe's various outposts shortly before, all in an effort to lure out the lord of this land. It wasn't even enough to cover a fraction of the ten-fold compensation.
"Hmm?"
The red-iron dragon keenly caught the flash of embarrassment on the gold dragon's face. He tilted his head slightly, his dragon eyes revealing a perfectly timed touch of surprise.
"You seem to be having some difficulty," he said with a hint of amusement. "Could it be that a young gold dragon, of all dragons, cannot produce such a trivial amount of wealth? My punishment is already lenient enough. Any of our kin present here—"
His gaze swept over Samantha, Treacy, and Solgorn. "—they could all easily afford this compensation."
The fairy dragon blinked her bright eyes, wanting to protest.
[ I can't afford that much either! That black-hearted Garos should pay me back! ]
But before she could even start her little act of defiance, the red-silver dragon beside her deftly wrapped the tip of her tail around the fairy dragon's mouth, stifling her protest in its cradle.
The expression on Alberto's face shifted violently.
Pride, embarrassment, resentment, humiliation... a storm of emotions surged across his draconic features, painfully obvious.
Finally, as if summoning every ounce of his strength, he forced out a few words in a halting, stiff, and utterly shamed tone: "Could... could we... use... in... installments?"
He barely dared to meet Garos's eyes, his voice growing softer and even beginning to stammer.
"I... I can't produce so much at once... but I swear on my dragonhood... that I will... pay back the full principal... within ten years!"
"An installment plan?"
Garos's dragon head swayed slightly.
"According to the rules of the Frontierlands and the customs of the dragon race, this is typically not permitted."
"Besides, wealth is like a river; only when it flows can it converge into a vast ocean. Over a ten-year installment period, you would need to pay at least... ten percent extra interest each year to compensate for the loss of value over time."
At this point, the red-iron dragon nodded amiably at Alberto, his voice softening.
"However, as I said before, this is ultimately a trivial matter. I don't truly care whether you can repay it or not. Just consider it a gift."
He gazed deeply at Alberto with an all-seeing, almost "I understand you" kind of magnanimity.
It was as if he were silently saying:
I know you can't pay it back, and I know you might want to just run away, but that's okay. There's no need to be embarrassed. We're all evil dragons; I understand your situation and your thoughts.
"Are there... are there any other ways to pay the compensation?!"
Alberto gritted his teeth as he forced out the question. The pain of his pride being repeatedly crushed seemed to dim the luster of his golden scales.
Garos's gaze swept over the White Dragon, Treacy.
After a moment's contemplation, he spoke slowly. "Yes. In the past, there have been the defeated who, to repay their debts, chose to handle some matters for me."
"In short, it is in the form of a mercenary contract or a commissioned task, using labor or merit to offset the debt."
He deliberately avoided sensitive and humiliating words like "loyalty," "submission," or "slavery."
He used only relatively equal terms like "employment" and "commission."
But the moment these words reached Alberto's ears, the young gold dragon shook his head violently, almost instinctively.
No! His face was filled with resistance.
This was by no means because he despised the red-iron dragon's bloodline mixed with that of evil dragons—in fact, deep in his heart, Alberto harbored considerable respect for this powerful opponent who had defeated him head-on, and who, instead of taking the opportunity to humiliate him, had acknowledged his ideals.
The real problem lay in his Oath of Conquest and Sacred Oath of the Crown, in his ultimate ideal.
He wanted to establish a Golden Order that covered the entire continent, shaping a Golden Kingdom where, under his will, the law was strict, order was well-maintained, and peace was eternal.
In some ways, Alberto's vision shared a subtle similarity with that of the Iron Dragon—both yearned to establish an order dominated by powerful dragons.
The difference lay here: the Iron Dragon craved a world where dragonkind ruled as overlords, enslaving all other creatures. Alberto, however, sought a land of order that aligned with his own definitions of justice and perfection.
To accept the Red-Iron Dragon's employment would mean being bound here, wasting precious time and energy to fulfill someone else's will. He would have no time to walk his own path, to pursue his own dreams.
For Gold Dragon Alberto, who placed his ideals above all else, these were unacceptable terms.
"There is no need to give me an answer right now."
The Red-Iron Dragon's voice broke the oppressive silence.
"Since the misunderstanding has been cleared and a fellow dragon has traveled from afar, it is only right that I, as the lord of this land, fulfill my duties as a host and treat you well."
The corners of his dragon's maw curved upward, forming a smile. "I am indeed profoundly curious about the grand vision you hold in your heart."
"Why don't we find a more comfortable place to sit, set aside our differences, and talk properly?"
The Red Iron Dragon's friendliness was unnervingly out of character.
Yet the other evil dragons—Red Dragon Samantha, White Dragon Treacy, and Iron Dragon Solgorn—remained on high alert. Their cold, hostile gazes were like tangible blades, locked onto Gold Dragon Alberto in an unspoken warning.
But...
Garos, the Red Iron Dragon, was the victor. For him to offer such a magnanimous and generous invitation, how could Alberto—who prided himself on his noble bloodline and extraordinary bearing—show weakness or retreat now?
Besides, he was far from defenseless. His magic scales could instantaneously grant him the terrifying defense and speed of a gold dragon in its prime. Even if these evil dragons were to turn on him suddenly, he was confident he could fight his way out.
"The shallow opinions of the mediocre are not worth a second glance," Alberto said, lifting his head. "But for a clear-sighted individual like you, who is truly exceptional and sees the true nature of things, I would be delighted to converse."
He gave a solemn nod of his dragon head. "I accept your invitation."
Shortly after, Alberto followed the dragons to Dragon Valley.
By now, the morning light had grown rich and warm, draping the vast earth like a golden veil.
When Alberto's gaze fell upon the summit of the valley cliff, his movements froze.
A towering, colossal fortress, built in a style that celebrated draconic aesthetics, stood atop the cliff like a burning mountain. The rising sun had plated it in flowing molten gold, making the entire structure appear to be engulfed in flames, radiating a scorching crimson glow.
Such a sight left even the proud gold dragon momentarily spellbound.
A fortress—this was not an asset every dragon could possess.
When he snapped back to his senses, his gaze drifted downward, sweeping across the interior of Dragon Valley. His pupils constricted slightly once more.
He noticed other dragons within the valley.
Red, blue, green, black... two dragons clearly in their adolescence, and two even smaller young dragons!
Counting them all, the number of dragons gathered here had reached a staggering ten!
If they were given time to fully mature, they would surely turn the Frontierlands into a domain whose power could not be underestimated.
Alberto's gaze involuntarily drifted back to the red-iron dragon flying ahead.
He knew all too well... Among all the dragons present, only this powerful red-iron dragon could possibly have gathered so many naturally rebellious and diverse dragonkind on the same land.
Evil dragons were nothing like the cooperation-minded metallic dragons.
Rebellion against order was etched into their very bones, and they instinctively craved to trample everything beneath their feet, standing at the pinnacle of the pyramid.
Only the presence of a King of Evil Dragons—one strong enough to crush all dissent, wise enough to balance all interests, and resolute enough to command the submission of all dragons—could force these utterly different evil dragons to temporarily set aside their disputes and coexist on the same land.
Thinking of this, Alberto's estimation of Garos in his heart couldn't help but rise a few more notches.
Meanwhile, on the training ground at the bottom of the valley.
Several little dragons—red dragon Cahill, blue dragon Heliam, green dragon Ludwig, and black dragon Seraphina—were all craning their small heads, staring dumbfounded at the massive, majestic dragon shadow in the sky, which remained golden and resplendent despite being covered in wounds.
"A captive? Is that a captive?!"
Cahill, the red dragon, thrashed her tail in excitement, her voice shrill and brimming with admiration. "The Lord of the Crimson Wings is too powerful! Too incredible! To think he could... he could even capture a gold dragon!"
As a red dragon, her blood coursed with an innate hostility toward gold dragons and an instinctive desire to trample them underfoot.
Though she knew she could never achieve such a feat herself, seeing Garos—who shared her red dragon bloodline—bring back a clearly wounded gold dragon filled her with a vicarious sense of pride. She puffed out her chest, unable to contain her newfound glory.
"Unbelievable," Ludwig, the green dragon, murmured to his companions. "Look at his size... he's at least a powerful young gold dragon! But he looks so miserable. So many of his scales are broken."
He shrank back, pulling his neck in. "It seems he just endured a truly brutal beating."
In the sky above, Alberto's eyelid twitched.
The young dragon and juvenile dragon spoke softly, but their words were still caught by the gold dragon's keen senses.
Captive? Beaten?
The little dragons' whispers felt like an insult to him.
He had been invited here, after all! And the previous battle had been far from a one-sided thrashing. Still, it was not his style to argue or explain himself to a weak young dragon and a juvenile dragon. Thus, his golden dragon eyes remained fixed straight ahead, burning like a fortress, as if he had heard nothing at all.
(End of the Chapter)
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