Thick, leaden clouds hung low, as if within arm's reach, while cold wind and rain fell in a ceaseless, rustling torrent.
Raindrops the size of beans struck the Dragon's iron-like scales, shattering upon impact and turning into fine steam that rose along the contours of the Dragon's body due to the high heat.
Gorthax had been firmly imprisoned by the King of Molten Iron's pincer-like claws.
At first, he struggled and twisted frantically, his mouth erupting with roars and hisses full of resentment and Fury. However, when all resistance became meaningless, his anger began to slowly dissipate, and the thick, inseparable blood-red color in his eyes gradually faded.
He stopped his futile struggling.
He raised his massive head and looked directly into the Red-Iron Dragon's deep pupils. In his eyes, there was no realization or fear of a dying Dragon; instead, a more intense hatred burst forth as he cursed, "Damned bastard! My Bloodline flows within you! Your power, your very existence, they all come from me!"
"And now you turn around to slay your source! You ungrateful monster!"
The Red-Iron Dragon only tilted his head slightly, remaining silent. His massive body stood firm in the wind and rain, terrifyingly calm.
At that moment, Gorthax's voice came to an abrupt halt.
On that ferocious Dragon face, a fawning and flattering smile appeared as if by magic, and his tone became unusually soft.
"Good son, just now... I was too agitated and said some nonsense."
He said, "Ungrateful? That is a virtue of our Evil Dragon race! You have done well, exceptionally well!"
"In consideration of the father-son bond we share through our blood, let me go. We can reconcile and stay out of each other's way from now on. How about it?"
"This wilderness can be ruled by us, father and son, together in the future!"
The Red-Iron Dragon remained silent.
Gorthax's smile froze and then melted away like ice and snow. His expression suddenly darkened enough to drip water, and his tone shifted sharply again.
"Little bastard! Did you really want to hear me wagging my tail and begging for mercy, crying and pleading?"
"Haha! Did those soft words just now make you feel satisfied? No! That was just a whim of mine, I was just playing with you!" His gaze became fiercely aggressive once more.
"Don't think you've won just like this!"
"I swear! Even if I, Gorthax, fall into the deepest depths of Hell, I will definitely crawl back! We, father and son, are destined to meet again!"
"When that time comes, I will not only snap your neck with my own hands, I will listen to your agonizing wails as I skin you alive and swallow you piece by piece! I will make you feel endless pain!"
Defeated by his own offspring and ending up in such a miserable state, Gorthax's heart was filled with extreme resentment and humiliation.
He alternated between begging for mercy in a lowly manner, cursing hysterically, and making vicious threats. His mental state was clearly still in a state of chaotic madness.
Garros remained silent from beginning to end.
But in reality, he wasn't intentionally maintaining this posture.
At this moment, his heart was being scorched and occupied by a surging flame.
It was not a physical fire, but a sudden, intense Fury that had ignited out of nowhere.
This Fury contained an indescribable violence and madness, casting a lingering blood-red tint over the edges of his vision. The rain falling from the sky seemed to turn into a viscous rain of blood.
Deep within his ears, countless fragmented and seductive whispers seemed to be ringing continuously.
They incited him to slaughter, to destroy.
They urged him to release his most primal Fury and tear everything before him into pieces.
From the moment Gorthax's Fury began, Garros had inevitably been affected by it. Combined with the intensity of the entire battle, he had no time or room to steady his mind and dispel this negative influence.
As time passed, the suppressed Fury in his heart did not subside; instead, it grew more turbulent, as if fuel were being constantly added. It was only temporarily suppressed by his powerful willpower, hidden beneath a seemingly calm expression.
And now, with the end of the battle, it all erupted.
This deep erosion targeting the mental level was by no means within the scope of a Wild Dragon's skills.
Without a doubt, this was caused by the Frenzied Flame.
In fact, it was precisely because of the Frenzied Flame's interference with the minds of the attackers that the originally tight encirclement lost its coordination, with each fighting their own battle. Otherwise, with everyone's combined strength, the process of killing Gorthax should have been much easier.
"Why do I feel such uncontrollable anger?"
Garros struggled to focus his remaining reason, attempting to calm the irritability and violence in his heart.
At the same time, he lowered his head to examine his scarred Dragon body.
He was covered in a large amount of blood. Some came from his own deep, bone-exposing wounds, and some belonged to Gorthax. That scalding dragon blood flowed with the rain, and a portion seemed to be passing through his wounds, achieving some kind of Fusion with his body.
"The Frenzied Flame... it transferred to me using Gorthax's blood as a medium?"
The Red-Iron Dragon felt a premonition in his heart.
He vaguely sensed it.
With every close contact with Gorthax, especially after being stained with the other's dragon blood, the negative influence of the Frenzied Flame deepened, like a stubborn poison in his bones.
Without him realizing when it started...
His pair of dragon pupils had already turned the same blood-red color as Gorthax's.
The Frenzied Flame within his heart was burning violently, growing more and more intense, constantly battering the dam of his reason.
However, unlike Gorthax's outward madness, even though his heart was a sea of raging waves, Garros's surface remained unsettlingly calm.
This contrast between his inner and outer states made him appear even more dangerous.
"Bastard! What are you still hesitating for? Do you really have some ridiculous shred of compassion and want to let me go?"
Gorthax was still prattling on.
His words, full of resentment and provocation, pierced the Red-Iron Dragon's tense nerves like needles, causing him a bout of indescribable irritability.
He wanted to act immediately and end Gorthax's life once and for all, but a lingering trace of clarity deep in his heart warned him.
Killing Gorthax right here might allow the Frenzied Flame to erode him even deeper.
"I, Gorthax, don't need any charity or pity! I promise, as long as I have the slightest chance, I will tear you into pieces in the future! I'll kill every creature you care about and cherish! I'll make you taste the most extreme pain in the world..."
Before Gorthax could finish his sentence, he was interrupted by a low and suppressed dragon language, as if squeezed from the depths of a throat.
"Silence!"
The last trace of patience in Garros's blood-red eyes finally ran out.
He could no longer suppress the churning irritability and violence in his heart.
The muscles in the dragon arm gripping Gorthax's neck bulged terrifyingly. Powerful force erupted instantly, and between his claws, there was the teeth-gritting sound of dragon scales shattering and the muffled thud of tough flesh being forcibly torn apart.
"...I... will definitely... return!"
Gorthax's pupils contracted suddenly. Using his last bit of strength, he squeezed out those few words full of resentment. His massive eyes, which were gradually losing focus, stared fixedly at the Red-Iron Dragon close at hand. They didn't close even after his breath was completely cut off, as if he wanted to brand the image of this parricide deep into his Soul.
The gaze of one who died with eyes open was like adding oil to the fire, making the Fury in the Red-Iron Dragon's heart burn even brighter.
Simply snapping the neck was not enough to vent the violent emotions that were almost consuming him.
Riiip!
Accompanied by a terrifying sound like tearing fabric, Garros's sharp claws pierced deep into the scales and flesh of Gorthax's neck.
He let out a long-suppressed low growl and actually tore Gorthax's head clean off his neck.
Scalding dragon blood surged out like a fountain, only to be quickly washed away by the cold rain.
He casually toyed with the Red Dragon's head, which still maintained its hideous expression, while looking down from above at the headless dragon body falling toward the muddy earth below, until a muffled impact sounded.
Only after doing all this did a flash of cruel satisfaction appear in his blood-Red Dragon eyes.
Boom!
Just then, a bolt of lightning streaked across the dark horizon, momentarily illuminating the sky.
The Dragons and behemoths lying in various places with extremely serious injuries barely raised their heads to look at the sky.
In their vision, the lofty and ferocious figure of the Red-Iron Dragon holding the enemy's head was clearly reflected, and a chill involuntarily rose from the depths of their hearts.
In their memory, although the King of Molten Iron was powerful and majestic, he was not a cruel or tyrannical Dragon.
Yet now, the King of Molten Iron hovering in the wind and rain showed no obvious emotional fluctuations on his dragon face. He was terrifyingly calm, but he invisibly radiated an extremely dangerous and evil aura.
This feeling was essentially very similar to the previous, mad Gorthax.
"Garros, has his mind been eroded by the Frenzied Flame?"
Golden Dragon Alberto's chest heaved violently as he gasped for breath, this heavy thought surfacing in his mind.
Garros had briefly mentioned information about the Frenzied Flame to him, but he hadn't explained in detail that it had such a terrifying mental erosion effect.
It was likely that even Garros himself hadn't been aware of it before and had now inadvertently fallen victim to it.
At the same time.
The King of Molten Iron standing in the sky suddenly folded his massive wings and dove down to land before the heavily injured Golden Dragon, his massive shadow completely enveloping Alberto.
"Alberto."
He stared at the Golden Dragon, and after examining him for a few seconds, he suddenly asked, "Tell me, why didn't you use your life-saving Spell Scale until the very end?"
"Were you... waiting for me and the Mad King to perish together?"
"Did you want to reap the benefits? Or, in the depths of your heart, did you always hope to see the Bloodlines of two Evil Dragons disappear together? After all, you once said you wanted to eradicate the scourge of the Mad King."
Alberto possessed a powerful life-saving Spell Scale. Although its power might not be a fatal threat to Garros in his current state, it could at least produce an effect equivalent to a full-strength strike from the Mad King or himself.
At a critical moment, it should have been able to turn the tide of battle or reduce casualties.
However, from beginning to end, the Golden Dragon had never used this Spell Scale.
The Red-Iron Dragon's voice sounded as steady and calm as ever.
But beneath this layer of calm surface, Alberto sensed a dangerous aura as turbulent as a deep-sea undercurrent.
In a daze, he seemed to see his familiar ally baring terrifying fangs.
It was as if if his answer was even slightly unsatisfactory, he would be subjected to a relentless and violent attack in the next second.
Alberto endured the sharp pain from his injuries and replied, "When I went to the Northeast Region to scout for information, I encountered the Mountain Giant King."
"After a fierce battle, in order to escape, I had already exhausted the energy stored within the Spell Scale."
Among the map kings of the Wilderness's Northeast Region, the Mountain King is the most formidable, a rising map king seed.
AI Model: gemini-3.1-flash-lite
Upon hearing that he had killed another Plague Dragon map king, Alberto went to investigate, only to clash with him and be forced to use his trump card.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner? Or ask for my support?"
The Red-Iron Dragon tilted his massive head, a gesture that appeared particularly unsettling at this moment.
"Alberto, are you doubting me? Doubting that my abilities are insufficient to deal with the Mountain King? Or do you think that I, an ally with the blood of an Evil Dragon flowing through my veins, am simply not worthy of your complete trust?"
He asked in rapid succession, the dangerous tone in his voice growing increasingly heavy.
His blood-red pupils contracted slightly, fixing their gaze on Alberto, as if scrutinizing every subtle reaction of his prey.
Golden Dragon Alberto took a deep breath and responded in a deep voice: "Garros, we are companions who have sworn a covenant."
"But that does not mean I need to report every single one of my actions and affairs to you in minute detail."
"I have my own way of handling problems; I am able to resolve my own troubles, and I am not accustomed to relying easily on external forces. This has nothing to do with trust."
Facing the Red-Iron Dragon, whose state was clearly not right, he continued bluntly: "Garros, wake up!"
"You are being severely affected by the Frenzied Flame!"
"Do not forget the source of your power!"
"Using reason to control power—that is the style of you, Garros; it is the King of Molten Iron I know. The real you would never be swayed by manic emotions!"
Upon hearing this, the Red-Iron Dragon's pupils suddenly narrowed into dangerous slits, and a blood-red radiance flared intensely.
His entire dragon face was instantly filled with ferocity. Given his current rugged and fierce physique, paired with this expression, he appeared even more evil and terrifying than Gorthax had been.
"Garros, calm down!"
On the other side, Iron Dragon Sorog mustered his last remaining bit of psionic energy, attempting to cast a mind Spell to help Garros stabilize his spirit, which was on the verge of losing control.
However, his psionic fluctuations had barely touched Garros's mind when they struck what felt like an invisible yet intensely scorching flame, instantly incinerating them and yielding no effect.
"Shut up, all of you! Are you trying to teach me how to do things?!"
The Red-Iron Dragon let out a deafening roar, stomped forward violently, and raised his sharp claws, capable of shattering mountains, aiming them at the Golden Dragon's head!
The sharp wind from the claws dispersed the rainwater on Alberto's forehead.
But in the split second before the cold, gleaming claws could touch the Golden Dragon's head, they suddenly froze in mid-air.
The Red-Iron Dragon slammed his eyes shut and began to breathe deeply, one time after another, inhaling massive amounts of air laden with cold raindrops, then exhaling it heavily.
He stood stiffly on the spot, like a statue, his chest heaving violently, hot white steam continuously venting from his nostrils.
It was not until several minutes later that the suffocating pressure eased slightly.
The Red-Iron Dragon slowly opened his eyes; those unsettling blood-Red Dragon pupils had faded, returning to their original deep black.
"A portion of the Frenzied Flame has transferred onto me."
Garros's voice carried a hint of exhaustion, but more so a sense of gravity, as he said slowly: "Its influence on my spirit is extremely strong. I cannot guarantee to you that I can maintain complete control over myself at all times."
Relying on his tempered, rock-solid spiritual will, he temporarily suppressed the erosion of the Frenzied Flame, and his sanity was restored.
But he could still clearly feel a fire of desire for destruction and slaughter accumulating within his heart.
More accurately, this fire did not exist in his heart but was burning directly within his mental world.
However, Garros did not display excessive nervousness or panic.
He understood his own situation better than anyone.
He firmly believed that if given enough time, the negative effects brought about by the Frenzied Flame would eventually be overcome by his adaptability talent, and finally become controllable.
Perhaps this dangerous power could even be tamed and transformed into another powerful trump card.
"Garros..."
Iron Dragon Leticia caught her breath and, looking at her powerful yet currently worrying offspring, said: "I remember very clearly that the influence of the Frenzied Flame is subtle and gradually increasing."
"I believe that the firmness of your will far surpasses that of Gorthax; you would never actively choose to embrace madness."
"But precisely because of that, you must absolutely not let your guard down! Otherwise, you will be unwittingly twisted by it and slide into the abyss."
Garros nodded slightly.
He said: "I understand the danger involved, and I know what I must do next."
Immediately, he stood in the wind and rain, his gaze slowly sweeping over the scarred dragons around him and the lords under his command.
Gorthax's power was unquestionable.
If not for the strategy of surrounding and outnumbering him, Garros estimated that relying solely on his own strength, it would have been very difficult to force out Gorthax's Fury State and Wild State first.
Although the attackers were affected by the Fury-induced loss of intelligence and their coordination was nearly zero.
But their existence did indeed cause continuous exhaustion and accumulated injuries for Gorthax.
Many of Garros's effective strikes were also landed while Gorthax was distracted by dealing with other attackers.
If it had been a pure one-on-one deathmatch, Garros estimated that his chances of winning were slim.
The best outcome would likely have been to choose a strategic retreat after being forced to use the dragon jade to recover his state.
If, during the intense battle, he had lost his reason due to the influence of the Frenzied Flame and chosen to fight Gorthax to the death... then the one standing at the end today would very likely have been the Mad King, not him, the King of Molten Iron.
Meanwhile, the other dragons were either lying powerlessly in the mud, barely leaning against rocks to gasp for breath, or struggling to stand.
However, although the injuries on their bodies looked shocking, thanks to the naturally formidable vitality of Dragonkin, the Holy Spirit Deer's treatment at any cost, and the fact that Gorthax's main attack targets were always concentrated on Garros, there were no tragedies of death on the spot; all had saved their lives.
Garros's gaze then turned to the non-Dragonkin lords under his command.
The Holy Spirit Deer had fainted due to overdrawing its life energy to heal, its breath weak.
Healing dragons and other powerful monster lords was not easy; it was an extremely heavy burden for it.
The Amethyst Dragon-Lion Ennus's skull was collapsed and deformed, its face covered in congealed blood, looking miserable, but there was still an extremely faint rise and fall in its chest.
The tenacious life of the Dragonkin Bloodline was manifest in this moment. As long as it had this breath, it would be difficult for it to truly die.
The Phoenix Angia's state looked the best; she had performed Nirvana twice, attacking Gorthax by self-destructing, dying twice, but had not suffered much damage subsequently.
Finally, Garros's gaze settled on the Lord of Flowers, Charles.
This gifted powerhouse, who had the highest possibility of becoming the first Legendary of the Molten Iron Tribe, was lying quietly among a pile of rubble, his pupils dilated and lifeless.
There was a huge, gaping blood hole through his chest, and many unnatural twists and fractures could be seen in the bones all over his body. He was already devoid of breath.
Without reaching Legendary, without a Domain, with a human body in a war of behemoths of this level, he was ultimately too fragile.
Moreover, neither the Arcane Knight nor the Border Walker paths were known for extraordinary defensive power and survivability.
Charles had died on the spot under that fatal headbutt from the Wild State Gorthax.
Garros fell silent, bloodshot veins gradually crawling into his eyes.
The fluctuation of emotions due to the passing of his lord became fuel for the Frenzied Flame; the flames of Fury surged and burned again in the depths of his heart, causing his eyes to faintly show a trend of turning blood-red again.
However, before other dragons or subordinates could speak to remind him, the Red-Iron Dragon took a deep, slow breath, forcibly suppressing the churning anger once more.
His tempered inner self and his own adaptability talent allowed the Frenzied Flame to shake him and test him, but ultimately, it could not truly dominate or manipulate him.
"Serafina, bring the phylactery and rush to the battlefield at top speed."
Garros gave clear instructions to the Black Dragon. Although Charles was already dead, his Soul was tough and powerful, and it should remain within his remains for a short time.
Using the phylactery to preserve his Soul in time might give him a chance at resurrection in the future.
"Solrog, Samantha."
Garros looked at his two blood relatives, his tone serious and low, and said: "My mental state is very unstable right now. If I receive external stimulation, it is highly likely that I will do something irrational with unpredictable consequences."
After thinking for a moment, he continued: "I will return to The Borderlands first to concentrate all my spirit and slowly overcome and adapt to the negative effects brought by the Frenzied Flame."
"During this period, all affairs in the wilderness will be temporarily handled by you."
"If you encounter any thorny problems that are difficult to solve, be sure to notify me immediately."
After hearing his arrangements, Iron Dragon Leticia and Golden Dragon Alberto immediately indicated that they would help look after the Molten Iron Tribe.
"How should Gorthax's remains be handled?"
Iron Dragon Sorog asked.
"Cut them into pieces and store them; these are our spoils of war."
The remains of a Mature Adult Dragon were of extremely high value; with the pragmatism in Garros's bones, he would certainly not waste them.
"I will be back soon."
After a brief exchange, the Red-Iron Dragon left these final words and did not delay any longer.
He suddenly flapped his wings, his massive body soaring into the sky, turning into a meteor in the wind and rain, rapidly disappearing beneath the vast curtain of rain, speeding towards the direction of The Borderlands.
Returning to The Borderlands was not just to cope with the erosion of the Frenzied Flame.
This extreme battle on the edge of life and death had also given Garros a brand-new understanding of power and death, and he had vaguely touched the threshold to the Eternal Death Path; he needed time to digest and break through.
His ideal outcome was to successfully cultivate the Eternal Death Path simultaneously, and then, by relying on controlling the Frenzied Flame, also step onto the Wild Dragon path.
The side effects of the Wild State were great. Gorthax's ending was vivid in his mind.
But its power was also unquestionable.
After using the dragon jade, Garros's second life had actually become weaker because he could not open the Crimson Lotus State, but if he could learn the Wild State, undoubtedly, he would add yet another trump card skill.