Iron Dragon's Advancement Journey

Page 183

　"This is... I've been gone for so long... Thank you."

　As the light faded, Vorasega opened its eyes. It was astonished to find its body enveloped in a silver aura, a strange power flowing within it. At the same time, its divine essence instantly made it understand its state before its transformation.

　"Congratulations." Fiona no longer held back her words. "You are no longer a ghost, but a holy guardian, better able to protect Inbutu."

　Vorasega stretched his body, feeling the newfound power: "Indeed... I feel much better. And, it seems I can sense Impu's current condition."

　Its expression suddenly turned serious: "Evil... there's an aura of evil everywhere. It's especially strong in the palace."

　"That's why we need your help," Agatha said. "Only someone of your high standing can convince the royal family of the truth."

　"No need for further words." Vorasega spread his wings, which were enveloped in silver light. "Let's set off immediately. The crisis in Inbutu cannot be delayed."

48. Clear away obstacles

　Sunlight streamed through the bronze stained glass windows of the Loreba Palace's council hall, illuminating the marble floor. Queen Regent Sambrer sat on her throne, flanked by council members. Unlike the hostile meeting three days prior, the atmosphere in the hall was now solemn and tense.

　Vorasega's massive body occupied the central open space of the hall. Even maintaining a relatively restrained posture, this ancient bronze dragon still exuded an awe-inspiring pressure that commanded respect from all. A silver, holy aura enveloped its bronze scales, which were covered with rust-like green spots, and its translucent body sent a chill down the spines of the nobles familiar with dragons. Only the oldest Imput noble families could find the name of this ancient dragon in the oldest records of their family genealogies. (The last sentence appears to be unrelated and possibly a separate thought: "Where's Lin Zai Zai? Are you free? Is Lin Zai Zai...?")

　But human will is irrelevant, because the bronze dragons that are everywhere in Butu cannot mistake their ancestors.

　"Gentlemen," Vorasega's voice boomed like ancient thunder, "I have slumbered for eight hundred years, only to awaken to find Imbtu facing an unprecedented crisis." It turned its massive head, its emerald vertical pupils sweeping over everyone present: "The tentacles of the Dragon Cult have reached into the heart of this city."

　Sambrier leaned forward slightly: "Lord Worasega, if I may be so bold, your return is a boon to Ibutu. But do you have any solid evidence for your claim of infiltration?"

　According to certain ancient covenants, even Volasega cannot disregard the Regent Queen's legitimate rights over Imput—although this "legitimate exercise" has a great deal of subjective leeway, normal bronze dragons are not the kind of dragons that would break a covenant. Of course, the current situation does not require Volasega to breach a contract.

　"Evidence?" A deep laugh from the Holy Watcher's ancient kin echoed throughout the palace. "Your Majesty, the evidence stands right behind you."

　All eyes instantly focused on the area behind the throne. There stood Imbu's most elite guardians—the six bronze dragons and their paladin companions. Leading them were the legendary paladin Lannrim and his companion Quel'Sanders.

　Lanrim's expression changed drastically. He instinctively gripped the holy sword at his waist, confusion flashing in his azure eyes: "Lord Volasega, what do you mean by this?"

　"It is not you, child of the weeping god." Volasega's gaze bypassed the paladin and locked onto Quel'Sanders. "It is your companion."

　Faced with the accusations from the ancient bronze dragon, the mature bronze dragon Quel'Sanders remained calm, but Fiona noticed that the tip of his tail was trembling slightly.

　"Ancestor," Quel'Sanders said calmly, "you have been asleep for too long, and perhaps you have some misunderstandings about the current situation."

　"Misunderstanding?" Vorasega slowly rose to his feet, a divine light swirling around him. "Child, under this light, all illusions will be revealed."

　A burst of silvery-white holy light suddenly erupted, surging towards Quel'Sanders like a tidal wave. The bronze dragon instinctively took a half step back, its body glowing with protective spells.

　However, the divine light ignored all defenses, as if it were a warp, and smeared onto his scales. The light, which should have been warm and pure, became distorted in that instant. Accompanied by a sharp tremor, beneath the still golden bronze scales of the mature bronze dragon, dark purple patterns writhe and intertwine with the silver-white.

　"This is..." Lanrim stared wide-eyed, unable to believe what he was seeing.

　Quel'Sanders' disguise was utterly shattered. He roared in agony, causing the dark purple markings on his body to spread as if alive, filling the hall with an aura of blasphemy: "Now that I've been discovered, there's no need to keep up the act any longer!"

　"Quill!" Lannrim cried out in anguish, "Why? We've fought side by side for sixty years!"

　The bronze dragon turned its head, its emerald eyes flashing with madness: "Sixty years? I served your family for three hundred years. Do you know how I spent those three hundred years? Forever living in the shadow of your family, forever just 'the dragon of the Lanrim family'!"

　His voice grew hoarse: "Samasser promised me power, so I would no longer be merely a paladin's mount! He promised... immortal eternity!"

　"I never treated you as a mount!" Lanrem's voice trembled. "You are my brother, my dearest friend!"

　"Enough!" Quel'Sanders roared as he charged at Worasega. "You old bastard, you ruined my plans!"

　Vorasega let out a soft sigh and casually swung a claw through the air.

　boom!

　The translucent claw vanished into nothingness, then appeared directly beside Quel'Sanders in the form of pure, solid silver-white ether, sending him flying like a kite with a broken string, crashing heavily into a pillar in the hall. The marble pillar shattered with a crash, sending shards of stone flying.

　"Foolish and pathetic child." Vorasega shook his head. "You think a lich's little tricks can help you fight an ancient dragon?"

　Quel'Sanders struggled to his feet, dark purple blood dripping from the gaps in his scales, corroding small pits in the ground. The pungent smell of acid mixed with dust filled the nostrils of those present. His eyes grew even more crazed: "You will all regret this!"

　He suddenly tilted his head back, and a strange syllable emanated from deep within his throat. It was not dragon language, nor any known language, but some kind of twisted, malevolent curse that acted directly on the soul.

　"Stop him!"

　Fiona, who had been quietly observing the pterosaur family affairs and felt it inappropriate to interfere, shouted a reminder, but it was too late.

　The ancient incantation was merely a decoy; the instant Quel'Sanders' spell was completed, all the bronze dragons in the hall—including Quel'Sanders himself—let out agonizing roars. Their emerald eyes turned an eerie purple from bloodshot eyes, flowing with tears of blood and streaked saliva. Dragon blood, imbued with dragon magic, gushed from beneath their scales, transforming into a dark red mist that madly devoured their reason.

　"You lied to me!" Quel'Sanders cried out in his final moments of lucidity, "You promised I wouldn't be affected!"

　The next moment, he also fell into complete madness.

　The six-headed bronze dragon pounced on all living things in the hall. The screams of the nobles and the shouts of the guards rang out instantly, and the lightning bolts of the dragon's breath flashed in the dust.

　Just as the royal palace was about to be lifted into the sky by the breath of the bronze dragon, an invisible force suddenly pressed down.

　That was the oppressive aura of an ancient dragon.

　Vorazaga spread its wings, and a divine aetheric radiance, mixed with the innate majesty of the ancient dragons, poured down like a landslide. The six berserk bronze dragons were instantly subdued and forced to swallow their own dragon breath.

　"All paladins, immediately take control of your companions!" Fiona reverted to her tungsten dragon form and, in conjunction with Vorasega's oppressive aura, lunged at the bronze dragon closest to the throne.

　With the overwhelming pressure of the ancient dragon, the situation instantly reversed. The paladins acted swiftly, using specially crafted magical chains and ropes to firmly bind their berserk companions. Fiona held the bronze dragon beneath her, while Agatha helped the other paladins reinforce the restraints.

　Tagan stood guard nearby, his sword always pointed at Quel'Sanders—the very culprit who had caused all this was now also subdued, but was still struggling frantically.

　Only Lannrim stood rooted to the spot, watching the suppressed Quel'Sanders with anguish. Sixty years of friendship flashed before his eyes like a revolving lantern—the wariness and probing of their first encounter, the tacit understanding during their shared battles, the trust built up over the long years…

　"Quail..." His voice choked with emotion.

　Vorasega's voice rang in his ears: "Lanrim, you know what to do. The dragon soul, controlled by the evil curse, is beyond saving."

　Lanrim slowly drew the holy sword, tears streaming down his face. The runes on the sword began to glow—the mercy bestowed by the weeping god—a divine power capable of directly purifying corrupted souls.

　He walked up to Quel'Sanders. Even under the pressure of the ancient dragon, the robust bronze dragon struggled frantically, its blood-red eyes devoid of any reason.

　"I'm sorry, old friend," Lanrim said, raising his holy sword. "I failed to perceive the pain in your heart."

　The holy sword pierced down, directly into Quel'Sander's dragon soul. A burst of holy light erupted, completely incinerating the dark purple patterns that clung to the dragon soul. Along with it, the bronze dragon's pure, amber-like soul also collapsed.

　Quel'Sanders' struggle ceased. A brief moment of clarity flashed in his eyes as he looked at Lanrim, who stood before him, his face streaked with tears.

　"Lanrim..." he weakly uttered his last words, "Thank you..."

　The shattered spiritual light of the dragon soul manifested under the impetus of holy light, then slowly dissipated in its shattering. The massive dragon body, having lost the support of its soul, collapsed to the ground with a crash.

　The remaining five bound bronze dragons were still struggling frantically, but under Vorasega's oppressive aura, they could not pose a real threat.

　Agatha walked to the center of the bound bronze dragons: "Friends, assist me in channeling divine power. They were just cursed; there is still a chance to remove it."

　The paladins present responded immediately. They formed a circle and placed their hands on their respective emblems. Agatha stood in the center, her black armor beginning to gleam with a platinum-gold light.

　She directly guided divine power as a paladin, while the paladins of Impu prayed to the weeping god. The power of the same origin converged and then erupted, surging into the guidance of other paladins, spreading and forming a dazzling array of light that enveloped the five bronze dragons and drove away the dark purple patterns.

　For a full quarter of an hour, the power of the curse resisted stubbornly, but in the face of the inexhaustible divine power of the two benevolent deities, it was ultimately like water without a source, retreating step by step.

　As the light faded, the bronze dragons finally regained their senses. They stared blankly at the ruins around them, at Quel'Sander's corpse on the ground, and gradually realized what had happened.

　"Quail..." one of the bronze dragons groaned in pain.

　Vorasega then withdrew his oppressive aura: "Samasser's methods are far more vicious than I imagined. He not only corrupted Quel'Sanders, but also planted this terrible curse upon him..."

　Regent Queen Sambril, supported by her guards, emerged from behind the throne. Her face was pale, but she maintained her regal bearing: "Your Excellency Vorasega, it seems your warning was correct. The threat of the Cult of Dragons is imminent."

　"This is just the beginning," Vorasega said in a deep voice. "If Samass can corrupt the Dragon Knight Commander of Imptu, then the entire dragon race of Faerûn may have already been infiltrated."

　Sambrier took a deep breath and surveyed the ravaged hall: "In the name of Regent Queen Imptu, I declare a state of emergency in the kingdom. All Dragon Knights, assemble immediately."

　She turned to Fiona: "Emissary of the Deepwater Territory, we need stronger allies to counter this threat."

　Fiona reverted to human form and straightened her battle-ravaged armor: "Your Majesty, this is precisely what I have to say. The Lead Mountains hold the answers we need."

　"The Square Lead Mountains?" Sambrier looked puzzled. Wasn't the Dragon Cult supposed to be in the Gray Forest?

　"The Dragon Cult lackeys in the Grey Forest have already been eliminated by Fiona and the others," Vorasega continued. "The Lead Mountains are the holy land of metal dragons, and the Golden Dragon Royal Court is located there. If there's anyone who can unite all the metal dragons against the Dragon Cult, it's only..."

　It didn't finish its sentence, but everyone present understood its meaning.

　"Furthermore," Fiona added, "Lord Casaloz, the lord of the Deepwater Territory, is also there. Gathering Impu's forces to join him is my primary mission in coming to your country."

　Lannister stood up, tears still streaming down his face, but his back was straight again: "Quill showed us how terrible the enemy is with his life. I will not let his death be in vain."

　He approached Volasega and knelt on one knee: "Lord Volasega, I have lost my comrade-in-arms. I humbly request that you become my new comrade."

　The ancient bronze dragon looked down at the legendary paladin: "Your courage is commendable, Lanrim. But unfortunately, my current form can no longer establish that kind of connection with any mortal being."

　It turned slightly to the side, revealing Agatha behind it: "However, this young tungsten dragon paladin might be willing to fight alongside you for the time being."

　"Huh?" Lanrim wasn't unfamiliar with the Tungsten Dragon Paladin, but including this time, the two of them had only met twice in the palace. The Bronze Dragon Ancestor's abrupt introduction left the Paladin somewhat bewildered.

　Agatha didn't care about that. Finding a knight wasn't like finding a spouse. She hadn't encountered a suitable knight during her time in Damara and Deepwater Territory. Lanrim, a paladin who had risen to legendary status under the tutelage of the Bronze Dragonflight, would definitely not hold her back in the upcoming battle. Since an old Bronze Dragonflight was willing to make the connection, she naturally wouldn't refuse, and thus stepped forward: "Lord Lanrim, the courage and sacrifice you just displayed are admirable. If you don't mind, I'd like to temporarily become your battle partner."

　Lanrim raised his head, hope rekindling in his eyes: "It is my honor."

　The two paladins stood facing each other, simultaneously raising their right hands. A divine light, emanating from different divine powers yet sharing a common belief, flowed between them, forming a temporary yet unbreakable bond. Though not a true pact, it was enough to establish a mental connection, allowing them to coordinate perfectly in battle.

　"Very good." Sambrier clapped his hands. "Send the order to summon all available dragon knights. Since we're heading to the Golden Dragon Royal Court, we must demonstrate Imptu's strength."

49. At the beginning of training

　Perhaps it was because Vorasega was too proud, or perhaps the Regent Queen was truly terrified by Quel'Sanders' betrayal, that she dispatched half of Impu's bronze dragon riders.

　Two elderly, four middle-aged, twelve adults, and eight youths—a total of twenty-six bronze dragons—along with twenty-six paladins of exemplary rank or higher (excluding Lanrim), joined the athelian dragons stationed outside the city. Led by Fiona, they took off in a mighty procession towards the western leaden mountains. The formation of dozens of dragons blotted out the sky, their shadows sweeping across the land, a symbol of hope, yet also a harbinger of the impending storm.

　On the outskirts of the gray forest, the magic circle still trapped the Smoke Dragon Beast "Sulfur" in the center.

　Dorn Greystream stood at the edge of the barrier, the Iron Golem's right arm trembling slightly. Not from fear, but from the muscle memory that had accumulated over the past three weeks—thirty days to be precise—reminding him of how he should react when facing dragons.

　"Ready?" Eisen's voice was as cold as ever, but Dorn could detect a hint of concern in it.

　Dorn did not answer immediately. His thoughts drifted back to the morning thirty days earlier, the morning that changed everything.

　That day, they had just arrived at the Atheron's camp. The four members of the Graybrook Adventurers—Dorn, Pavel, Raine, and Will—were still excited about the training they were about to undergo. They were renowned dragon slayers, and although they had mostly killed whelps and young dragons, they were already legendary figures in the eyes of ordinary people.

　"Welcome to Purgatory." They were greeted by a massive ferret, its metallic scales gleaming coldly in the morning light.

　Before Dorn could even bow, a massive dragon tail swept across. It moved so fast that he only caught a blurry glimpse of it.

　boom!

　The world spun around him, and Dorn felt as if his internal organs had shifted. He rolled in the mud for over ten meters before stopping, his mouth filled with the taste of blood, and at least three of his ribs were broken.

　"Stand up." Azeron's voice was low and contemptuous. "Is this the dragon-slaying power you're so proud of? I doubt those dragons you killed died of old age or disease."

　Dorn struggled to his feet, his anger ignoring the excruciating pain. He had barely regained his footing when the second blow struck—this time a frontal claw strike.

　The Iron Golem's arm barely blocked the attack, but the immense difference in strength caused the mechanical joints to creak under the strain. Dorn's shoulder dislocated instantly, and he was sent flying again.

　"Too weak." Azeron shook his head, his tone full of disappointment. "With this level of skill, he dares to call himself a dragon slayer?"

　The third, the fourth, the fifth... the attacks came like a tidal wave. Dorn couldn't remember how many times he was knocked away, only that each time he landed, he felt like his bones were about to fall apart.

　His companions fared no better. Pavel attempted to cast a divine spell, but before he could finish the incantation, he was struck by a dragon's wing and slammed against the stone wall like a rag doll. Renn's harpoon was crushed by the dragon's claws before it could even be thrown, and he and his weapon were trampled into the ground. Will tried to use his agility to dodge, but against overwhelming power, all skill seemed laughable.

　When the torture finally ended, all four lay motionless on the ground. Dorn's consciousness was blurred, and he could only barely make out a figure approaching.

　"This is the first lesson," Eisen's voice rang out. The female half-dragon stood before them, her expression as cold as an ice sculpture. "You are too weak. Too weak to even withstand a normal attack from a dragon."

　"We... came here to receive training... not to die..." Renn said with difficulty, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

　His response was the breath of another anaerobic dragon. The scorching dragon breath grazed Renn's body, leaving a deep scorch mark on the ground. If Will hadn't pushed him away with all his might at the last moment, Renn would have been reduced to ashes by now.

　"In a real battle, the chromatic dragons won't show mercy just because you're weak," another half-dragon warrior said with a sneer. "Get stronger or die. There's no third way."

　"Enough." A dignified female voice rang out, and Agatha appeared at the edge of the training field. "That concludes the first day's welcoming ceremony. Take them for treatment."

　Dorn's last memory before falling into a coma was the scene he saw as he was being carried onto a stretcher—more than twenty priests and healers were waiting for them. Various healing arrays were ready, and the air was filled with the smell of expensive potions.

　When he woke up again, he found himself lying in a comfortable bed. His injuries had completely healed, and he even felt better than before he was injured.

　"Awake?" Pavel's voice came from beside him. "You were unconscious for six hours."

　"Where are the others?"

　"Everything's fine." Pavel pointed to the other side of the room, where Renn and Will were checking their equipment. "Those dragons... their healing methods are far superior to any temple I've ever seen."

　“Yeah,” Will interjected, his voice bitter, “they almost killed us, and then completely healed us. What’s that?”

　"That's an investment," Agatha's voice suddenly rang out; she had appeared in the doorway without anyone noticing. "A dead warrior is worthless, but a warrior who has been on the brink of death knows how to survive."

　She entered the room, followed by several half-dragon assistants, each carrying various scrolls and records.

　"Based on today's tests, your basic stats for the four of you are as follows: Dorn: Above average strength, but lacks explosive power. His use of the Iron Golem's arm is too stiff, failing to unleash its true potential. Pavel: Ample divine magic reserves, but casting speed is too slow, which will be a fatal weakness in actual combat. Rein: Good physical attributes, but limited attack methods, relying too heavily on throwing weapons. Will: Decent agility, but severely lacking strength, causing negligible damage to dragons."

　With each question posed, the four men's expressions grew increasingly grim. But Agatha seemed unfazed and continued: