Translator: AnubisTL
The setting sun bled like blood, staining the sky with a molten, flowing canvas of fire. The sinking orb, like a pierced wound, oozed thick, viscous rays of light along the horizon.
Garos stood bathed in this blood-like, flame-like afterglow, each of his iron-black dragon scales reflecting a dangerous glint.
With a flap of his wings, fine scales rubbed against each other, sparking like embers. His body straightened as he pierced through clouds and air, streaking toward Crescent Moon Valley, toward the cliff serpent dragons' nesting grounds. He moved like a drawn blade cleaving through the deepening twilight.
Whenever he sensed danger.
Whenever his life was threatened.
Garos could never suppress the boiling killing intent within him, the urge to obliterate the source of the threat.
This was not a trait inherited from his dragon blood.
As far as Garos knew, few dragons shared this mindset. Most, due to their inherent arrogance and self-importance, believed they could overcome any danger. They felt the world should prostrate itself beneath their dragon wings, that they were invincible. As a result, they lacked any sense of crisis awareness.
Garos had analyzed this deeply.
He finally concluded...
Garos likely cherished his dragon life all the more because he had narrowly escaped death once, having experienced the despair, terror, regret, and indignation of facing his own demise. He longed to live a long life and instinctively sought to eliminate any risk or factor that threatened his survival, crushing it in its cradle.
This seemed somewhat paranoid.
A touch of persecution complex.
Or, one could say, it was a flaw in Garos's personality.
Just as he could never eat two magic gems in a row, he struggled to suppress his killing intent when faced with life-threatening risks, wanting to eliminate them by any means necessary. If the gap in power was too great, he would strategically retreat to safety.
However, for now...
This personality "flaw" actually benefited him to some extent.
In this context, whether it was a flaw or a virtue became somewhat blurred.
Regardless, the cliff serpent dragon had to be dealt with.
Garos disliked a life of constant displacement. He had just settled down in Needleleaf Valley—was he to be forced to relocate again due to the cliff serpent dragon's hidden threat?
This serpent dragon wasn't strong enough to warrant such a move.
Garos didn't want to relocate, yet he refused to be ambushed by the cliff serpent dragon, which operated from the shadows.
Since this was the case, dealing with it preemptively was the best course of action.
A reckless, all-out battle against it might leave me poisoned and severely injured.
I need to strategize carefully, aiming to eliminate this cliff serpent dragon with minimal losses.
The red-iron dragon took a deep breath of the cold night air, his eyes glinting. The killing intent surging in his chest didn't cloud his judgment; instead, it sharpened his focus.
His wings beat, leaving trails of starlight in the twilight, like fireflies in the dusk. As time passed, Garos drew closer and closer to Crescent Moon Valley.
Crescent Moon Valley.
The night had deepened, and moonlight spilled across the valley like still water. The valley itself appeared tranquil, but beneath the calm surface, currents of tension churned.
The Howling Moon Clan's young and able-bodied warriors—Giant Wolf Knights, Howling Battle Werewolves, and Werewolf Archers—patrolled the territory as usual, fully armed. Yet, a careful aerial survey would reveal that their positions subtly formed an encirclement, ready to breach any obstacles and launch a swift assault on the central open ground.
Moreover, the clan's elderly, infirm, and young had all been moved outside the valley, leaving the territory empty of these vulnerable members.
All the young and strong were on high alert, their muscles tensing beneath their fur, their expressions occasionally betraying tension before hardening into grim resolve.
Though graymane werewolves were inherently ferocious, they cherished blood ties and the bonds of their clan.
For the future of their clan, they were prepared to die in battle.
"Elder, all is prepared," Werewolf Chieftain Russell said, his voice low, a mix of excitement and tension.
The Old Shaman nodded solemnly. "Remember, we must wait until Rogus steps into the magic formation I've prepared. Once it activates and binds him, await my signal. Only then will we strike together. This is the only way to minimize casualties."
The word "casualties" weighed heavily on Russell's expression.
He tightened his grip on the hilt of his knife. "All orders have been given."
"When you blow the bone whistle a second time, every warrior of the Howling Moon Clan will surge forth instantly to slay it!"
After much deliberation and discussion, the shaman and chieftain had decided to eliminate the cliff serpent dragon rather than abandon their territory.
The wilderness was fraught with danger, and relocating was no simple matter.
Leaving their familiar home to rebuild in a strange land would be treacherous; surviving the move would be considered a success if half the clan made it.
Since massive casualties were inevitable anyway,
We might as well fight the cliff serpent dragon head-on!
The warriors of the Howling Moon Clan will not fear battle!
Whoosh—
The bone whistle sounded for the first time.
The Old Shaman stood in the center of the clearing, surrounded by freshly caught prey.
Hearing the whistle, the cliff serpent dragon emerged from its cave. It slithered its long, slender body forward and landed before the Old Shaman. Without hesitation, it opened its gaping maw and clamped down on one of the creatures, tearing into it with savage ferocity.
When feeding, the cliff serpent dragon injects a potent venom into its prey, amplifying the pain.
The creature let out a piercing wail as its skin and flesh were shredded into pieces by the dragon's needle-sharp teeth.
The brutality of the scene made even the Old Shaman frown slightly.
At the same time, he noticed the dragon's tail.
The previously severed area had already grown fleshy buds, resembling the beginnings of a new tail. Given the dragonkind's rapid regeneration, he estimated it would be fully restored within a few days.
Initially, the Old Shaman had hoped to seek out the dragonkind that had wounded the cliff serpent dragon and form an alliance.
However, he knew nothing of their origins or whereabouts.
With no means of communication, the idea of enlisting the red-iron dragon's power remained a pipe dream. The clan finally resolved to unite their strength and eradicate the beast.
The feeding continued.
The cliff serpent dragon gradually moved toward the center of the clearing.
Beneath the ground, where it couldn't see, a pre-arranged magic formation stood ready to be activated.
A flicker of tension crossed the Old Shaman's wolfish face. Seizing the moment while the cliff serpent dragon was focused on its meal, he took a deep breath, preparing to blow the bone whistle and activate the formation.
Whoosh!
The air compressed into a piercing whistle, approaching from the distance.
Wait, I haven't blown the whistle yet?
The Old Shaman's eyes widened in confusion. Before he could activate the formation, he saw the cliff serpent dragon abruptly raise its upper body, its tail slamming against the ground. Its face twisted with fury, its blood-red dragon eyes blazing with malice as it stared fixedly into the night sky.
Including the Old Shaman.
The werewolves raised their heads to gaze at the night sky, and their breaths hitched in unison.
A crimson meteor plummeted through the clouds.
No, it wasn't a meteor.
It was a giant dragon, blazing like a crimson meteor.
While its current size didn't quite qualify it as "giant," the sheer presence and oppressive aura it exuded immediately conjured a single, undeniable impression in the minds of all the werewolves who saw it:
—A giant dragon! A powerful giant dragon!
Garos tore through the night sky, charging straight toward the cliff serpent dragon.
Accelerated to incredible speeds, his dragon wings erupted with a dense shower of sparks, as if countless stars were flowing across them. The piercing shriek of his fine-scaled wings cutting through the air sounded like ten thousand swords unsheathing simultaneously.
The sound began as a high-pitched metallic vibration, gradually deepening into a continuous, thunderous roar as he descended.
The cliff serpent dragon's raised head was forced down by the sonic wave, its forked tail involuntarily coiling. Facing Garos's unstoppable dragon might, it felt a flicker of fear.
But this fear was instantly replaced by the cliff serpent dragon's innate ferocity and madness.
Hiss!
It hissed, and steam hissed from beneath its scales as it erupted into the air, its speed suddenly surging.
(End of the Chapter)
---
📖Read (𝗗𝗥𝗔𝗚𝗢𝗡) on the Site till Ch138. (70 Chapters Ahead)
💲Read upto Ch80 for ABSOLUTELY 𝙁𝙍𝙀𝙀! ℕ𝕠 𝕃𝕠𝕘𝕚𝕟
⚡15 Novels | 9.1k+ Chapters | 15.2M+ Words [𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐥.𝐜𝐨𝐦]