Translator: AnubisTL
The giant dragon's scales were thick and layered, a deep iron-black hue. Their surfaces were covered in fine, serrated textures, resembling the rough surface of forged metal, as if cast from steel and iron. At its joints, exoskeleton-like metallic protrusions jutted out, and a row of thick, shark-fin-like spines ran down its back.
It sat quietly on the high platform, its wings and limbs not fully extended, its massive form held in a state of restrained power. Even so, a suffocating sense of pressure washed over the young dragon. The mere thought of the destruction this creature could unleash in anger sent shivers down its spine.
The giant dragon gazed at Garos with black eyes, identical to his own. It was Garos's mother—Iron Dragon Mother Leticia.
"Mother," the young dragon bowed its head in greeting to the colossal figure on the platform.
Iron Dragon Mother Leticia was a staunch traditionalist among iron dragons, rejecting all Dragon Gods. Lawful Evil in alignment, she upheld efficiency and pragmatism as her highest principles and adhered to a rigid, hierarchical social structure. She yearned for a world dominated by dragonkind, ruled by iron dragons, and possessed a deeply ingrained sense of class consciousness.
In her eyes, even her own offspring could not overstep their bounds.
One must adhere to one's own rules, showing respect and reverence.
"Garos, my child, the crystallization of flame and steel."
The iron dragon maid looked down at Garos, her voice cool yet magnetic. "Six lunar cycles have been enough to shed your soft hatchling scales. Now, your scales are as hard as iron."
Her voice rasped like sandpaper on steel, each syllable causing the metal particles in the air to hum in resonance.
Garos nodded, a sense of foreboding rising in his heart.
Dragonkind divided their life stages into numerous age groups.
Hatchlings (1-5 years old): Protected and provided for by their mothers, receiving food, shelter, and security. Young Dragons (6-12 years old): Evil dragons, with their detached affection, showed little interest in raising their offspring. By the time their children reached the young dragon stage, they would often expel them from their territory, forcing them to fend for themselves.
Garos had an older dragon brother who had been driven out years ago, his fate now unknown.
As for himself, Garos had long anticipated this day, though he hadn't expected it to arrive so soon.
This magical world was far from safe. Supernatural creatures weren't limited to dragonkind, and magic wasn't their exclusive domain. Moreover, because their bodies were composed of top-tier materials, dragons were highly coveted.
Adult dragons, at least, were powerful enough to protect themselves.
But young dragons?
Compared to humans, young dragons were like toddlers who could barely stand and wobbled when they walked. Alone and without protection, they faced constant dangers, and survival was a brutal struggle.
The mortality rate among the offspring of evil dragons before adulthood was alarmingly high.
Garos found the practice of expelling young dragons to fend for themselves utterly unreasonable, and no wonder the dragon clan was in decline.
Moreover, he mused that this harsh childhood survival must have forged the violent and cruel temperaments of so many evil dragons in adulthood.
"When I was your age, my claws and fangs weren't as sharp as yours," the iron dragon maid continued. "My scales weren't as tough either. Yet I had already left my mother's protection and claimed my own territory."
As she spoke of her territory, her gaze flickered, and her tone grew somewhat hollow.
The so-called "territory" was nothing more than a stinking ditch.
The iron dragon maid's face was covered in steel-like scales, her thick skin unmoving, her expression unchanged.
She leaned back slightly, her massive body shifting. "Garos, it's time you left here and started your own life."
"Before dawn tomorrow, your scales should no longer be stained with the dust of this place."
So, she's finally expelling me.
This is a damn stupid custom! You can't tear up someone else's umbrella just because you got caught in the rain, Dragon Mother!
Hearing her words, Garos felt a chill run down his spine.
At the same time, two suppressed giggles came from behind.
The red dragon sister and the iron dragon brother, both five-year-old hatchlings, stared at Garos with schadenfreude, their tails flicking happily behind them.
Driven by their evil dragon instincts, the two often provoked Garos, only to be beaten up by him repeatedly.
They both desperately wanted Garos driven out.
You fools—don't you realize that I'm what you'll be in a year's time?
Garos shook his head slightly, too lazy to bother with the fools.
These two hatchlings only cared about the present, never thinking about the future.
Garos lifted his lowered head and looked at the iron dragon maid. "Mother," he said, "I wish to remain in your territory a while longer. I'm not yet ready to leave."
The iron dragon maid unfurled half her wings, and shadows instantly engulfed half the nest.
She refused with unwavering finality: "No."
Garos had anticipated this outcome. He sighed and said, "I had hoped to trade my treasure for food and shelter. Since you are so resolute, I will let it be."
As he finished speaking, Garos shook his head and turned to leave.
Treasure?
The iron dragon maid's pupils suddenly narrowed into vertical slits.
"My dear Garos, wait!"
No dragon could resist treasure.
Garos knew this well—treasure was the Achilles' heel of all dragons, and the iron dragon maid was no exception.
Her rigid, traditional nature held that a six-year-old young dragon should live independently. But every rule had its exceptions, and the iron dragon maid was also a pragmatist. If Garos could bring her treasure, she wouldn't mind continuing to shelter her offspring.
The hardness of her expression softened considerably.
The iron dragon maid smiled kindly and asked, "Where did you get your treasure, and how much are you willing to exchange for food and shelter?"
Garos sat upright on the ground, his limbs pressed together, and gazed up at the massive iron dragon. He spoke slowly and deliberately, "I have a keen sense for minerals, especially precious metals. I can perceive them quite clearly."
"I can guarantee you at least three precious metal ore stones, each weighing over ten pounds, every month."
"In return, you must provide me with shelter and the same high-quality demonic beast blood you've been providing."
The blood food the iron dragon maid could provide came from high-level demonic beasts, which Garos couldn't obtain on his own.
Garos desperately needed this high-quality blood food. His Adaptive Evolution talent wasn't a mere fantasy; evolving required a massive energy supplement.
The iron dragon maid nodded slightly at Garos's proposal.
Reasonable.
Iron dragons do possess a talent for sensing minerals, but it rarely manifests in young dragons.
"You're willing to mine?"
Dragonkind, with their inherent pride, typically disdained doing such menial work themselves, leaving it to their familiars or slaves.
When it came to treasure, the iron dragon maid's demeanor turned shrewd and calculating. "If you want to requisition my familiars to dig for you, you'll have to pay extra. The exact amount will depend on the level of the familiars you want to use."
Level referred to their biological level.
This was the most straightforward way to gauge an individual's strength. For example, Garos was currently level 7. At this age, he was on par with gold dragons of the same age, and even surpassed most of them.
Normally, red and iron dragons were weaker than gold dragons at the same age.
In comparison, a white dragon of the chromatic dragon lineage would only reach an average biological level of around 3 by the age of six.
"No need," Garos replied. "I have two mine slaves I can command. With me personally whipping them into shape, their mining efficiency should be quite high."
The red dragon sister and iron dragon brother exchanged surprised glances.
"When did Garos get two mine slaves?" the red dragon sister whispered to the iron dragon brother beside her.
"I have no idea," he shook his head, his gaze clear.
The two hatchlings stared at each other, racking their brains, but couldn't figure out where Garos had found two mine slaves.
(End of the Chapter)