"No corpse."
Garros's gaze swept over the wreckage of the colossus, finding no trace of flesh and blood within.
"This doesn't make sense."
"Hit head-on by my Destruction Dragon Breath, how could this goblin Alchemist survive? And where did his body go?"
The Red-Iron Dragon flicked his tail, deep in thought.
The Grand Artificer was indeed powerful, but that couldn't change the fact that he was an Alchemist. With a fragile body and without his golem's defense, he was vulnerable before Garros.
"I saw it clearly; he was engulfed by my Destruction Dragon Breath."
"Furthermore, this Alchemy Colossus... I've nearly dismantled it completely, yet I found no sign of a cockpit."
The Alchemy Colossus that had finally reconstructed itself from the ruins and stood up seemed not to be the Mecha Golem most commonly used by goblins, but rather an autonomous Intelligent Golem.
"The leader of the Golden Tooth Tribe... something is unusual about him."
Garros looked toward the battlefield, where the scales of victory had already tipped completely. "No matter. Once the battle here is over, I'll lead the army straight into the Golden Tooth headquarters in the southeastern Black Iron Plain. Whatever the goblin leader's situation is, it won't change the outcome."
The Golden Tooth Tribe was strong.
Or rather, none of the four major tribes in The Borderlands were weak.
Although called tribes, this was because the system was backward in impoverished regions, with many primitive and ignorant remnants within the groups. However, in terms of combat power alone, their overall level was actually comparable to small city-states.
But regardless of what it was before...
Once the Alchemy Legion was annihilated, the Golden Tooth Tribe would become a thing of the past.
Garros did not participate in the subsequent cleanup. He circled high in the sky, looking down at the scorched earth and the fires of war. As his sky-blotting dragon wings unfurled, they granted his subjects nearly infinite morale.
"Kill—!"
The Ogres swung spiked clubs covered in bits of flesh, smashing the goblins—who were trying to flee or put up a desperate struggle—into flat meat pies along with their crude armor, like a game of whack-a-mole. The sounds of maniacal laughter and cracking bones intertwined.
Wyverns circled at low altitudes, pouring down acid like water, creating patches of white-smoke-emitting corrosive zones among the routed goblin troops.
Giant wolves let out bloodthirsty howls, turning into gray shadows of death as they darted and leaped through the scattered enemy ranks. Every swing of their claws brought forth a spray of warm blood, accurately slitting goblin throats or tearing open their chests.
True Dragons were even more like moving natural disasters, plowing through the edges of the battlefield and completely erasing any large groups of goblins trying to gather or escape.
This was a completely one-sided slaughter.
The forest of steel had turned into a meat grinder. The once mighty and powerful Alchemy Golems were now twisted scrap metal scattered everywhere, burned by fire, corroded by acid, and trampled by immense force.
The goblins' wails, pleas for mercy, and curses rose and fell.
But they were soon silenced by the whistle of weapons and the sound of tearing flesh.
The sunlight seemed stained by the heavy scent of blood. The wind kicked up smoke and ash, mingled with the pungent smell of rust, charred odors, and the stench of death.
The warriors of the Molten Iron Tribe were clearing out the last of the resistance.
Soon, all those putting up a last-ditch resistance were slaughtered. Only those who had discarded their weapons and prostrated themselves on the ground in surrender remained.
The earth-shaking roars gradually subsided, replaced by bellows of victory and heavy breathing. As the combat died down, fatigue washed over every monster's body like a tide, yet their eyes burned with a fanatical light.
They won! The Molten Iron Tribe had taken the most important step toward the position of King of the Borderlands!
The era of the Molten Iron Tribe would begin amidst smoke and blood!
Garros noticed the excited warriors.
Now was the perfect time to boost the tribe's cohesion.
"Wherever my dragon wings reach—"
The Red-Iron Dragon spoke, his deep and majestic voice spreading across the entire battlefield like rolling thunder: "—is all the King's land!"
Garros wouldn't normally make such an arrogant and flamboyant declaration. But there was no one else here, only his own people. Making a boastful remark to satisfy a little vanity wouldn't hurt.
Of course, the most important thing was to make the Molten Iron Tribe more cohesive and loyal.
Everything else was incidental.
After a moment of stillness...
Roar—!!!
Dragon roars, beastly bellows, the neighing of Centaurs, the shrieks of Wyverns... all the sounds merged into a torrent announcing victory and power, rising straight into the clouds.
"Rest where you are. The war isn't completely over yet; we are still one step away from total victory."
The order was issued, and the monsters, after their fierce and bitter struggle, began to rest on the spot.
Wounded? Unless it was a lost limb, they were minor injuries. Just stuff some mud in to stop the bleeding, take a healing spell from a Warlock or Shaman, and they'd be back in action.
Hungry?
There was food all over the ground.
Goblins—delicious!
The warriors of the Molten Iron Tribe had minimal logistical needs.
Meanwhile, in the southwest, Dragon Valley.
A group of Snakemen slowly appeared on the horizon, gradually approaching Dragon Valley.
They had giant snake-like lower bodies and humanoid torsos. The males were robust with bulging muscles, looking ferocious and sinister with green faces and long fangs, while the females were beautiful and seductive, their exquisite faces nearly rivaling those of elves.
"This is it, the habitat of the Dragonkin."
"The dragon of the Molten Iron Tribe is leading monsters in battle against the Golden Tooth goblins."
"We signed a magical contract with the goblins and cannot act against them. However, the Molten Iron Tribe's rear is empty, which presents a great opportunity for us."
The Snakeman leader hissed, flicking his tongue as he spoke.
The Snakemen of the Poison Tail Tribe were mainly located in the northeast of The Borderlands, near the Golden Tooth Tribe.
Because of the resources ceded by the Golden Tooth Tribe, they had signed a magical contract to suppress their mutual conflicts. However, the Snakemen of the Poison Tail Tribe did not stop monitoring the Golden Tooth Tribe's movements because of it.
The massive movement of the Alchemy Legion could not be hidden from them.
The Snakemen quickly understood what was happening.
They believed the Molten Iron Tribe was no match for the Golden Tooth Tribe. Furthermore, while they had a non-aggression pact with the Golden Tooth Tribe, they had no such agreement with the Molten Iron Tribe.
Therefore...
The Snakeman tribe made a prompt decision, intending to raid the Molten Iron Tribe's rear and seize the fruits of victory while the Golden Tooth and Molten Iron Tribes were in an all-out war.
Now, the elites of the Poison Tail Tribe had arrived at Dragon Valley.
The Snakemen twisted their bodies, approaching slowly and silently.
Once they reached a certain distance from Dragon Valley, a deafening roar suddenly erupted from the easily defensible entrance passage.
Roar—!
A white shadow leaped out.
The Dire beast glared at them. Its eyes fixed precisely on the Snakemen, its limbs crouched low, muscles bulging under its fur, and its sharp claws had already torn the ground, ready to pounce at any moment.
The powerful Dire White Tiger startled the Snakemen.
Immediately after, a gust of wind swept by, and another figure soared into the sky. Its dragon scales shimmered in the sunlight with a blend of copper and silver.
Deborah the Copper Dragon elegantly folded her wings and landed atop a nearby cliff.
"Hey, Snakemen."
"It's riddle time."
The Red-Silver Dragon tilted her head slightly, looking down at the Snakemen. In a relaxed and humorous tone, she said, "Harm one scale of mine, and my whole family comes for you. The most united of avengers—guess who it is?"
Hearing this, the Snakemen fell silent.
"Metallic Dragons."
A Snakeman Warlock leader said.
"Correct! As a reward, I'll allow you to turn back the way you came."
The Red-Silver Dragon said with a giggle.
The Snakeman leader said nothing and hurriedly led his troops away from Dragon Valley.
It was as if what lay ahead wasn't their objective, but some kind of Forbidden Land of death.
On the way back, a young warrior, unwilling to give up, asked the experienced leader: "We spent so much time trekking and sneaking all this way; why are we retreating just like this?"
The old Snakeman Shaman's eyes narrowed into slits.
"In The Borderlands, the strong don't die, and the weak have a chance to survive. Only short-sighted and arrogant fools aren't worth pitying." He rebuked in a raspy voice, "Attacking a Metallic Dragon? Do you want to bring destruction upon our tribe? That dragon's riddle wasn't just idle talk."
As he spoke, the Shaman was also a bit puzzled.
Intelligence indicated that the ruler here was an Evil Dragon with no background, so why did a half-breed Metallic Dragon pop up?
Not dwelling on questions with no answers, the Snakemen retreated back the way they came, though their hearts were far from calm.
"Snakemen? Probably the Poison Tail Tribe. Hmm, I see."
Garros put away the Communication Stone. After a brief conversation with the Red-Silver Dragon, he learned what had happened at Dragon Valley.
He wasn't very surprised.
After all, The Borderlands didn't belong to just one power. Given the scale of the war between the Molten Iron and Golden Tooth Tribes, it was only natural for other tribes to take notice. It was equally normal for others to try and fish in troubled waters.
He had stationed the powerful Dire Tiger and the Red-Silver Dragon at Dragon Valley.
The Dire Tiger was secondary; the main goal was to use the Red-Silver Dragon's identity to intimidate others. Garros didn't need the Red-Silver Dragon to actually fight for him; her simply showing her face was enough.
"Once the war with the Golden Tooth Tribe is completely over, I'll reward her with an afternoon of riddle time."
Garros calculated in his mind; he needed to continue raising the Red-Silver Dragon's favorability.
As the Molten Iron Tribe grew, it would be able to acquire more resources on one hand, but on the other, it would be unrealistic to keep hiding and enduring. Sooner or later, they would come into the view of the adult Silver Dragon.
Even if they didn't gain the adult Silver Dragon's support...
At the very least, they had to avoid incurring its malice.
Garros did not become arrogant because of a couple of victories. He was very clear that matters involving an adult dragon needed to be handled with caution.
—Except for White Scale. White Dragons were an exception.
After resting for most of the day...
The resilient Molten Iron warriors marched again, striking out toward the Black Iron Plain.
This time, it was no longer a multi-front war. Instead, they tore through all obstacles like a sharp blade, driving straight in and arriving at the Golden Tooth Tribe's main base in the Black Iron Plain without any further hindrance.
×=×
PS: Requesting Power Stones!
15PS = 1 Extra Chapter. ✓
30PS = 2 Extra Chapters. ✓
50Ps= 3 Extra Chapters.✓
75PS = 4 Extra Chapters. ✓
100Ps = 5 Extra Chapters.