The tribal leaders tempered in blood and fire might be plotting in secret, or perhaps forming alliances in the shadows.
The horn of war will sound at the latest, before the Molten Iron Tribe fully unifies the south and digests the spoils of victory.
This is the countdown to life or death.
Otherwise, faced with the towering Molten Iron Tribe, other tribes can only await their doom.
Thinking of this, the depths of Red Iron Dragon's pupils remained unruffled.
He was no longer the young dragon who needed to be cautious with everything. He was still prudent, but not everything could instill fear in him.
By his directive, the Molten Iron Tribe was also preparing for the impending war.
At that time.
If they lost, the accumulation of these years would be destroyed in an instant, but it would be nothing more than starting over. Galos would never let his life fall into danger.
