Iron Dragon's Advancement Journey

Page 182

　"My friend..." Hevilan turned to face Lares and finally spoke, her voice gentle yet firm, like a silver bell shimmering in the light of Suren, "I have never doubted the truth of your foresight."

　She paused, a holy light gleaming in her silver dragon eyes: "But the Claw of Justice will never disregard the safety and civilization of the continent's inhabitants simply because it foresees sacrifice, nor will it hide within a barrier to eke out a living."

　The Silver Dragon Paladin's voice grew increasingly resolute: "That violates our oath, that violates the code we uphold!"

　She took a deep breath and made her final declaration: "So this time, I choose to stand with Casalos, on Atheron's side!"

　The choice made by the Claw of Justice finally ignited the fuse on the last stretch of the journey, instantly setting the entire basin ablaze with atmosphere.

　To the surprise of most dragons, it was Tamarand who followed the Claw of Justice into battle.

　The dragon lord, regarded as the crown prince of the golden dragon, slowly rose from the low rock ledge. His movements were heavy and slow, as if he were carrying a tremendous weight.

　"Your Majesty," Tamarand's voice was deep and magnetic, his golden dragon eyes flashing with complex emotions as he looked intently at Lares, "you are my monarch, my mentor, my dearest friend."

　He bowed his head deeply, adopting the most respectful posture: "I have never questioned your wisdom, and I believe in your foresight. But..."

　Tamarand raised his head, his dragon eyes now burning with determination: "We golden dragons pride ourselves on wisdom and justice, but true wisdom is not about escaping, and true justice is not about standing idly by."

　His heavy steps, one after another, slowly led him towards Casalos: "If we know evil is rampant, know our people are suffering, know the entire continent is about to be plunged into disaster, yet we choose to hide—"

　Tamarand walked up to Casalos: "Then do we still deserve to be called the Golden Dragon?"

　Serancia was the second to stand. The elegant female ancient golden dragon gently shook her head: "Your Majesty, if I may be frank, your plan might allow us to survive, but such survival is meaningless. If we choose to slumber, who will protect the mortals who trust us?"

　Her voice was tinged with sorrow: "We, the Golden Dragons, pride ourselves on justice and wisdom, but what's the point if we choose to flee in times of crisis? So... I choose to fight."

　"If even we dare not face our enemies, how can we expect other races to believe that justice will ultimately prevail?" Bryant followed up: "We are already many years older than before. Perhaps Salomes will remain silent, but as Gryffindor slowly rose to his feet, the aged dragon lord sighed: 'Alas, the impulsiveness of young dragons...'"

　But he also stood up.

　Of the seven dragon lords, only Oriclone and Nexus remain in their original locations.

　"You're all insane!" Aurelion roared. "His Majesty's foresight has never been wrong! You're all throwing your lives away!"

　The Nexus slowly shook its head, its thin body still prostrate in place: "I must stay. Not out of fear, but because dragons must always provide an escape route for their brethren who cannot fight."

　There was a hint of sorrow in his voice: "The plan to build a sanctuary will not stop because of your departure. Those young dragons, those wounded brethren, they need a safe place."

　The reason given by the Nexus allowed Aurelionz to breathe a sigh of relief: "I support His Majesty's decision. This is not cowardice, but the continuation of the race."

　The bronze dragons, on the other hand, reacted much more directly.

　"Finally, a dragon is speaking human language!" Uriel was the first to leap out, lightning crackling wildly between his horns: "Bronze dragons never fear battle! What nonsense about slumber! I'd rather die fighting than hide! Especially in a righteous battle like this!"

　Other bronze dragons responded in unison:

　"That's right! Bronze dragons never shy away from battle!"

　"What is the Dragon Worship Cult anyway? Let's just fight them!"

　"How many times in a dragon's life can it take a chance? If not now, when?"

　Their warlike nature allowed the bronze dragons to overcome their innate social anxiety. They flapped their wings excitedly, eager to rush out and cause trouble for the Dragon Worship Cult. Dragon roars echoed throughout the air. This most warlike race of metal dragons would never back down from the prospect of death.

　In contrast, the reactions of brass dragons and copper dragons are much more complex.

　A group of brass dragons gathered together, chattering and discussing:

　"Are we going to war? Are we really going to war?"

　"That sounds dangerous... but hiding and sleeping is boring too..."

　"How about we hold a vote? Oh, and by the way, I want to write this story into a poem and have it sung for generations to come—you can't beat me to it!"

　"Bullshit, this is my duty and responsibility..."

　Some of the brass dragons directly addressed Lars:

　"Your Majesty, the Golden Dragon King, please build a shelter quickly! We'll hide inside right away!"

　"Yes, yes, sleeping is the safest thing!"

　"Let those warmongers handle the fighting!"

　Of course, there were also brass dragons that showed unexpected courage:

　"Hey, I'd love to follow that little brat and see what it's like." An old brass dragon stroked its scales with its forked, thin tongue. "I've lived all these years and I've never even seen what the Dragon Worship Cult looks like."

　"Exactly! It'd be good to go take a look, anyway, the brass dragon runs fast!"

　The copper dragons' reaction was even more... copper dragons.

　Chaturio was always the most talkative one: "Wow! This is a once-in-a-lifetime event! So many dragons coming out together, just thinking about it is exciting!"

　It excitedly spun around in circles, shouting, "I want to go! I absolutely have to go! Just think of all the fun things that will happen on the battlefield!"

　Other bronze dragons echoed this sentiment:

　"Absolutely right, you'll regret missing out on something this big!"

　"We might even see those golden and silver dragons make a fool of themselves!"

　It's not that some bronze dragons didn't choose a more "pragmatic" approach:

　"I think it's better to run away. Just watch these big events; getting involved will likely get you beaten up."

　"How about we go hide somewhere else? We're the best at hiding anyway."

　Klaus surveyed the chaotic scene and let out a disdainful snort: "Ha, metal dragon."

　The ancient red dragon's tail swayed merrily: "Although I have an agreement with Casalos, that doesn't include fighting for it."

　It turned to leave: "Good luck to you all, I'm going back to my lair."

　The ancient red dragon's attitude successfully elicited a different thought from Amuris, whose astral construct hummed: "Wait, Klaus."

　"What?" Old Roar turned around.

　"Do you really think that if the Dragon Cult succeeds, they'll let us go?" Amurice's voice held a calm, analytical quality. "Would an organization that controls all dragons tolerate the existence of independent colored dragons?"

　"Those ants who dare to try and control the dragons deserve a lesson," Elvia said slowly, her voice like a glacier's whisper, crystalline frost gathering around her, signifying her resolve: "Dragon madness knows no metal or color. If Samaster truly masters the Dragon Madness Lock, we will all become its puppets."

　Klaus was silent for a moment, then let out a affected, long sigh: "Damn it, you're right."

　It turned back to Casalos: "Alright, count me in, since none of us want to end up as skeletons. But let me make this clear: I only fight for myself."

　As more and more dragons made their choices, Lares's expression grew increasingly complex. The Golden Dragon King's whiskers trembled incessantly, clearly indicating an intense internal struggle.

　Finally, after most of the dragons had stated their positions, the Golden Dragon King let out a mournful sigh, a mixture of anger, helplessness, pain, and some deeper emotion, filled with the vicissitudes of a thousand years and endless sorrow.

　"I knew it would be like this..."

　The King of Justice, His Highness Lares, slowly lowered his head, and the ancient dragon language was sung like a final elegy.

47. Shaking Dragon

　The path deeper into the secret realm became increasingly difficult. Although the guidance given by the semi-wooden tree spirits was clear, the path itself was full of obstacles unique to the primeval forest—giant, intertwined tree roots, waist-high bushes, and natural pits that appeared from time to time.

　Fiona, still in human form, led the way, her golden vertical pupils gleaming faintly in the dim forest. Her steps were light and steady, each one landing precisely on the solid ground. Agatha, behind her, seemed somewhat uneasy; her black full-body armor made movement difficult in the dense forest, the metal scraping against the branches and leaves with a soft, rustling sound.

　"How much further?" Tagan spread his wings and flew through the low branches, his long silver hair getting caught on a branch, which he tugged at impatiently.

　"According to Alandil, we'll arrive once we cross that swamp ahead." Fiona stopped and looked at the wetlands shrouded in a thin mist ahead.

　Grayish-white mist writhed across the swamp like living things, and the air was filled with the sour smell of decaying plants. Occasionally, bubbles would rise from the mud, making gurgling sounds.

　"Would a dragon really choose to sleep in a place like this?" Agatha frowned, her hand on the hilt of her sword.

　Javis peeked his head out from Fiona's shoulder: "Vorasega chose this place for a reason. Eight hundred years ago, this swamp was a clear lake, its bottom teeming with pearl-producing clams—a favorite spot for bronze dragons."

　The fairy dragon's wings fluttered gently: "But time has changed everything. The lake dried up, silt piled up, and it ended up looking like this now."

　The three-person humanoid and miniature dragon cautiously ventured deeper into the swamp. Fiona led the way, her immense weight as an amorphous dragon altered in human form, yet her heavy armor still left deep footprints in the mud. Agatha's situation was similar—Cassaloz, the new Supreme Dragon Lord suffering from persecution in human form, had set a bad example for his young amorphous followers; now, most young amorphous dragons, when assuming human form, would don heavy armor.

　The principle behind the form replacement is unclear, but it's definitely not the kind of transformation where the physical body expands and shrinks indefinitely. The armor worn in human form will only appear in human form and will never be damaged by "transformation." The same applies to the various equipment worn in dragon form or any other form...

　As they reached the center of the swamp, the fog suddenly thickened. Visibility plummeted to less than five meters, and even the figures of their companions became blurry.

　"Watch out," Fiona whispered a warning. "Something's approaching."

　Before the words were even finished, the swamp suddenly churned violently. Dozens of tentacles made of silt and decaying plants burst forth from the ground, bringing with them a stench of mud.

　Agatha reacted the fastest, severing the two tentacles the instant her sword was drawn. But the severed parts quickly reformed, as if nothing had happened.

　"A protective mechanism." Javices gripped Fiona's shoulder armor tightly. "Set up by Vorasega to prevent anyone from disturbing its slumber."

　Fiona ceased her attack and gestured for her companions to stop. She stepped forward and declared loudly, "We are friends of Inbutu, here to fight against the evil that threatens the kingdom. Please let us through."

　The tentacles swayed in the air for a moment, then slowly retreated back into the mud. The mist began to dissipate, revealing a path made of hard rock.

　"It seems that even in its slumber, it still retains its awareness of justice." Agatha sheathed her sword.

　Less than a hundred meters along the stone path, a huge cave appeared before us. The entrance was perfectly circular, with a diameter of twenty meters, and the rocks on the edges were polished to an exceptionally smooth finish.

　Fiona and Agatha exchanged a meaningful glance. They both understood how delicate their next move was. They had to awaken Vorazega to negotiate, yet without letting it realize its true state—Vorasega's belief that it was still alive was what sustained its ghostly existence in the Material Plane. Once it knew it had already departed for the other side in its slumber, merely lingering in the Material Plane as a spirit, it would vanish in an instant.

　"Master Tagan, please wait here," Fiona said solemnly. "What follows requires extreme caution."

　Although the winged elf was puzzled, he still nodded in agreement.

　The two tungsten dragons reverted to their dragon forms and cautiously entered the cave. During the descent, Agatha communicated with Fiona via telepathy:

　"To reiterate, we are juniors here to request the assistance of this ancient bronze dragon."

　"Confirmed," Fiona replied. "You're the expert on the undead; I'm relying entirely on your guidance. I'll do my best to cooperate."

　At the bottom of the cave was a vast underground space, where mountains of gold and jewels emitted a faint phosphorescent glow. In the center of this treasure trove, a colossal creature slept. It was a bronze dragon over thirty meters long. Were it not for its almost imperceptible translucency, one would almost mistake it for simply sleeping peacefully.

　"Lord Volasega," Fiona addressed him respectfully, "I, Fiona Milon, have an important matter to discuss."

　The bronze dragon's eyelids trembled, and it slowly opened its eyes. A ghostly blue light burned in those eyes, but it seemed unaware of it.

　"Tungsten Dragon?" The voice rang directly in their minds, filled with the confusion of just waking up. "How much time has passed? Is Inbutu still alright?"

　"Imbutu is facing an unprecedented crisis." Agatha stepped forward. "The Cult of Dragons has infiltrated the Dragon Knights, and I suspect some of your descendants have been corrupted by them—unfortunately, the Queen of Imbutu does not trust us."

　Volasega jerked his head up: "What? This is impossible!"

　It tried to stand, but its massive body seemed somewhat unsteady. It frowned at the keratinous spines on its brow ridge—if the ghostly dragon's ethereal form possessed keratin: "Strange, why is my body so…light?"

　Fiona quickly changed the subject: "You've been asleep for too long; your body needs time to adjust. The most important thing now is to stop the Dragon Cult's plot."

　"That's right." Volasega shook his massive head. "Tell me the details."

　The two tungsten dragons gave a detailed report on the current situation in Inbutu. Upon hearing about the chaos in the royal court, the infiltration, invasion, and attacks by the Dragon Cult, the ancient bronze dragon roared in anger.

　"I must return to Loleba immediately!" It spread its wings, intending to fly in the ancient way, but found itself floating up suddenly before it could even flap its wings, as if it were not bound by gravity.

　"Wait," Agatha suddenly spoke up, "Lord Worasega, before you return, I have a proposal."

　"What proposal?"

　Agatha took a deep breath: "Have you heard of the Lord of Justice?"

　Vorasega looked puzzled. "Lord of Justice? Whose title is that? Forgive my ignorance, but eight hundred years of slumber have left me with very little knowledge of the outside world."

　"This is a deity who has recently spread the faith in Faerûn," ​​Agatha carefully chose her words. "He is a metal dragon god, representing justice and protection, accepting all beings with righteous hearts. In Damara, His faith spreads through the sacred tree of gems, and many righteous humanoids have converted to His cause, receiving His blessings and transforming into holy dragonborn."

　"A metal dragon god?" Vorazega mused. "The bronze dragons don't worship gods because, apart from Asgard, no dragon god is truly credible..."

　It looked at the two tungsten dragons: "You both seem to be followers of this Lord of Justice?"

　"Yes," Agatha nodded, "and I'd like to show you something."

　A holy light began to emanate from her, a warm and pure light filled with the power of justice. Under this light, the chilling atmosphere in the cave seemed to be dispelled.

　Vorasega was drawn to the light: "I can feel your conviction... truly upholding justice and goodness!"

　"Lord Worasega," Agatha's tone became solemn, "you have dedicated your life to fighting for justice and protecting Imbutu. If you are willing to accept the teachings of the Lord of Justice, I can introduce you to become one of the agents of the Lord of Justice's doctrine in the material world."

　Vorasega pondered for a long time. It repeatedly felt the pure faith in Fiona and Agatha, savored the differences between them, and listened to the divine oracle that could be heard as long as one's heart was set on something.

　"If this allows me to better protect Impu..." it finally made up its mind, "I'm willing to try."

　Agatha suppressed her inner tension. The next step was crucial—she had to complete the transformation before Worasega realized his true state.

　"Please relax and accept this divine gift."

　She reverted to her dragon form, folded her wings, and half-bent over as she chanted a prayer. In truth, it was not a plea for Bahamut's grace, but rather, as a paladin practicing the doctrines proclaimed by the Platinum Dragon God, she was guiding the divine power of the Lord of Justice through the new divine rules established by AO. Platinum-gold light gathered around her and then slowly flowed toward Vorasega.

　"Accept it," Agatha's voice grew majestic, and the phantom of Paradise Mountain appeared between her wings. "Let the North Wind, a symbol of justice, fill your presence."

　Worasega closed its eyes, letting the warm power seep into every scale, every inch of flesh, and every bone... It didn't know that it had already lost these things.

　The transformation took place silently. The ghostly dragon's negative energy was replaced by divine power, and the unstable spirit acquired a new form. This was not Bahamut's divine grace, but rather the paladin using shared ideals as a fulcrum to transform a benevolent soul into a benevolent, immortal "being" encompassed by the Book of Goodness.