Iron Dragon's Advancement Journey

Page 155

　He paused, then continued, "As for what that mad red dragon has done, I have indeed heard some things. Its crimes are numerous and heinous, enough to make any dragon horrified, and I am deeply indignant about it. But..."

　"But what?" Azak couldn't help but interject.

　"But as far as I know, things haven't reached the point of complete irreparable damage." Casalos looked earnestly at Hevilan. "If it's willing to pay a sufficient price and offer sincere compensation, perhaps..."

　"Compensation?" Azak sneered. "What kind of compensation could possibly make up for all this?"

　"Then," Hevilan stopped Azak's emotions, her smile vanishing as she adopted a serious and formal negotiating stance, "the crucial question is—what price is it, Klaus, the Northern Dragon, willing to pay to compensate the Golden Dragon Royal Court and our Claws of Justice for their losses?"

5. Cloud-based gaming

　The whispers in the restaurant grew louder, and many businessmen began packing up to leave—the memory of fear brought by the name Klaus was still too fresh, and no one wanted to get involved in a potential conflict between dragons and paladins.

　Casalos glanced at the panicked crowd around him. He didn't care about the reactions of these mortals, but the matter he was about to discuss was indeed not suitable to continue in this setting.

　"It seems we need to continue this conversation in a different location." Hevilan rose gracefully, her silver armor shimmering softly in the morning light. "Lord Casalos, would you mind continuing our negotiations in a more...private setting?"

　"I couldn't ask for more." Casalos nodded slightly.

　Havilland turned to Azak, who was still glaring angrily: "Get ready, we're going to the clouds."

　"Understood." Although still displeased, Azak resolutely obeyed Hevilan's decision. The four paladins tidied their equipment and walked out of the restaurant amidst the awe-inspiring gazes of the many merchants.

　Casalos followed unhurriedly, maintaining the humble demeanor of a merchant. But as soon as he stepped out of the gates of Half-Mountain Song, he immediately reverted to his true form. A burst of silvery-white light erupted across the streets of Miraba, and a steel dragon over fifteen meters long appeared out of thin air. Its powerful body was covered in metallic scales, gleaming with a cold, hard luster in the sunlight piercing through the frost.

　Chaos erupted in the streets. Pedestrians screamed and scattered in panic, carriages went out of control and crashed into roadside shops, and several unfortunate vendors were knocked to the ground by goods swept away by the dragon's tail. The guards hurriedly blew their whistles, but upon recognizing the dragon queen, none dared to step forward. Instead, the half-dragons that flew in from afar bowed and quickly restored order to the surrounding area, preventing the chaos from spreading.

　"Lord Casaloz!" Azak shouted angrily, "What are you doing—"

　"What? Is there a problem?" Casaroz tilted his head, looking at the four paladins who remained in human form, his tone mocking. "I don't care about the feelings of these two-legged ants like you silver dragons do. Besides, if their streets were wider, like those in Waterdeep, making it easier for dragons to walk on the ground, this chaos wouldn't have happened... You know, only a minority of dragons can transform."

　Haivilan gave it a deep look, then sighed, "So be it, it's come to this... Let's go."

　The four paladins reluctantly headed out of the city. Casalos spread his wings, leaped into the air, and looked down at the chaotic streets below, secretly amused—these silver dragons always see themselves as guardians of their kind, forgetting what dragons are supposed to be like.

　About two kilometers from Miraba, they arrived at a relatively open valley, where the four paladins began their transformation. Silvery-white lights flashed one after another, and four silver dragons of varying sizes appeared in the valley.

　Even though it wasn't his first close encounter, Casalos was still awestruck by the majestic presence of Hevilan's dragon form—her over thirty-meter-long body resembled a statue forged from steel, both powerful and beautiful, her silver scales reflecting a diamond-like brilliance in the sunlight. Her head was elegant and dignified, the shield-shaped scales on her forehead healed into a single piece, and her towering fins like the ornate helmet of a Gothic knight. The battle scars covering her entire body—those deep and shallow wounds telling tales of countless battles against evil—did not diminish her majesty in the slightest, but rather added to her battle-hardened, steely aura.

　Azak was slightly smaller, but his aura of holiness was far more intense. His scales were almost pure white, as if coated with moonlight. Unlike Hevilan, his body was virtually unmarked; every scale was flawless, exuding an otherworldly purity, like a messenger from heaven. Unfortunately…

　The two younger silver dragons were much smaller. The female silver dragon paladin had a graceful figure, an exceptionally long neck, and a distinctive ornament at the end of her tail. The male silver dragon, who disguised himself as a girl in human form, tried hard to appear imposing, but his length of over ten meters still appeared somewhat immature compared to his two predecessors—yes, one of the two silver dragons disguised as a girl was actually male. Discrepancies between their disguised humanoid identity and their actual gender seemed to be commonplace for silver dragons. In fact, the vast majority of silver dragons cultivated multiple human identities for extended periods to better integrate into humanoid society.

　Silver dragons like Hevilan and Azak rarely appear in human form; their status and responsibilities require them to maintain their dragon identity for extended periods. As for their younger days… that's beyond Casalos's knowledge.

　"Let's go." Haiweilan spread her wings and led the way into the sky.

　The other silver dragons followed closely behind, and Casalos went after them. As they climbed higher, the scenery on the ground shrank rapidly, and Miraba quickly became a tiny dot.

　The higher they flew, the thinner the air became, but this was not a problem for the dragons. After they passed through the first layer of clouds, a breathtaking view opened up before them—a sea of ​​white clouds undulated like waves under the sunlight, with occasional mountain peaks peeking out from the clouds like islands in the sea.

　When Hevilan landed on an exceptionally thick cloud, her claws actually touched solid ground, as if she were standing firmly on land. The other three silver dragons also landed on the cloud with ease and grace.

　Casalos did not attempt to land, but instead hovered at the same height as them. To the silver dragons' surprise, it did not flap its wings like ordinary dragons, but instead spread its wings fully and remained motionless in the air.

　"What is this...?" the young female silver dragon couldn't help but ask.

　"Control of the wind," Casalos said calmly, adjusting the airflow above and below the wing membrane. "To me, the sky is the earth."

　Azak scoffed, "Playing tricks. It's just some kind of flight spell."

　Casalos was too lazy to explain. In a sense, it was indeed a flight spell, but the barrier to learning it was too high, and explaining it would be too troublesome.

　"Let's begin formal negotiations." Hevilan's dragon language carried a unique rhythm, each syllable seemingly imbued with a certain orderly power—a linguistic habit formed from long-term recitation of the Ptalian Codex. "You say you were entrusted by a dragon—I suspect it was Klaus who entrusted you. What does it want?"

　"A reconciliation," Casalos stated bluntly, "or more accurately, it hopes to pay a sufficient price in exchange for the Golden Dragon Court and the Claws of Justice ceasing their official pursuit of it."

　"Official name?" Haiweilan keenly grasped the key phrase.

　"That's right." Casalos nodded. "It knows very well that those dragons it has provoked and toyed with won't let it off easily. But as long as the Golden Dragon Court and the Claws of Justice stop hunting it down in the name of their organizations, individual strength alone..."

　He hadn't finished speaking, but the meaning was clear—with Old Roar's strength, he wasn't afraid of any individual challenger.

　"Arrogant!" Azak roared, but was quickly stopped by Haivilan.

　"An interesting proposal," Havilland mused, "but what makes it think we'd accept it? The crimes it has committed..."

　“Strictly speaking,” Casalos interrupted, “it has provoked many dragons, toyed with many dragons, and humiliated many dragons, but… has it ever actually killed any dragon connected to the Golden Dragonflight or the Claws of Justice?”

　This question silenced all the silver dragons present. Upon reflection, it became clear that Grommash had never truly killed any metallic dragon—all he did was provoke, tease, and humiliate, but always kept it within a delicate boundary.

　"It's intelligent," Havilland said slowly, "knowing what the bottom line is. But that doesn't mean its behavior can be forgiven."

　"So it prepared a price," Casalos continued. "First, it was willing to hand over two-thirds of its treasury as compensation to the Golden Dragon Court and the Claws of Justice—note, compensation to the organization, not to any individual."

　The two young silver dragons gasped. Even two-thirds of the treasure trove of an ancient red dragon that had ravaged the northern lands for thousands of years was an unimaginable fortune.

　"Secondly," Casalos continued, "it is willing to share all intelligence about the Dragon Cult, including the distribution of their strongholds, the composition of their dragon members, and the conspiracies they are plotting."

　"The Dragon Cult?" Azak frowned. "Haven't those lunatics been quiet lately?"

　"A calm surface often foreshadows a greater storm," Casalos said gravely. "Samaster's defeat in Silvermoon City is merely a facade; it is gathering strength in the Frigid Lands. I control eighty percent of Faerûn's gem supply, and in recent months, orders flowing there have increased thirtyfold. And most of the precious metal ores from Damara are heading in the same direction."

　This news made the silver dragons' expressions turn serious.

　"The massive demand for gems and precious metals can only mean one thing—large-scale ritual magic," Havilland's voice grew serious, "and on an unprecedented scale."

　"Exactly," Casalos nodded. "Although the specifics are still unclear, judging from its scale, it will likely be a disaster no less devastating than the turbulent years..."

　The ensuing negotiations revolved around various details: how the wealth would be transferred, how the intelligence would be verified, and how the timeline would be arranged. As the sun gradually set in the west, it dyed the sea of ​​clouds golden red.

　"In principle, I agree to this proposal." Ultimately, Hevilan made her decision, "But a few conditions must be made clear: First, this only means that the Golden Dragon Royal Court and the Claws of Justice, as organizations, will no longer pursue the matter; we will not interfere in individual grudges."

　"That's fair," Casalos nodded. (The rest of the text appears to be unrelated and possibly machine-generated gibberish.)

　"Secondly, all compensation must be paid within one month, and the intelligence must be verified."

　"no problem."

　"Third," Hevilan looked intently at Casalos, "I need your assurance—on your honor as the new Supreme Dragon, Klaus will not break this agreement."

　Casalos didn't hesitate: "I swear on the honor of the new Supreme Dragon, and by the judgment of all, Klaus will fulfill all his promises."

　—Of course, how could I break my promise?

　"So, an agreement is reached." Hevilan's tone was one of relief. "To be honest, resolving this peacefully is beneficial to both sides. The Dragon Cult's actions are constantly targeting all the dragons of Faerûn; we really shouldn't be fighting amongst ourselves."

　"Your wisdom is truly admirable," Casalos said sincerely.

　The negotiations concluded, and the four silver dragons prepared to depart. Just then, Casalos suddenly spoke up: "Ms. Hevilan, please wait a moment."

　"Is there anything else?" Haiweilan turned the dragon's head.

　"This is my gratitude to you, a dragon." Faint patterns began to emerge on Casalos's scales, the intricate designs moving as if alive. "You once extended your wings to me on the Churt Peninsula, a kindness I have always remembered. In return, I offer you the complete Carved Skin Dragon Advancement Runes."

　"A dragon with carved skin?" A strange light gleamed in Haivilan's molten mercury eyes. "The long-lost path to becoming a true dragon? I've heard that many dragons mastering this skill have recently appeared in the skies of Sword Coast. So they all originated from you?"

　"I suppose so," Casalos nodded. "These ancient wisdoms shouldn't be buried. Especially when facing the dragon liches of the Dragon Cult who wield instant-death magic, the defensive properties of the Carved Skin Dragon will be extremely useful."

　"Do you know what this means?" Hevilan's tone turned serious. "The path to becoming a true dragon has been lost for a long time, and each one is priceless. Are you really willing to share such precious knowledge with me?"

　"Of course," Casalos replied frankly. "Without your help back then, I'm afraid I would have had a hard time escaping the clutches of the dragon lich. The Iron Dragon will not forget hatred, nor will it forget kindness."

　Azak lowered his head and let out a cold snort: "So what if it's a dragon with carved skin? The strength of a paladin is enough to fight against any evil."

　"Azak," Havilland gently stopped him, then turned to Casalos, "please forgive his rudeness."

　"It's alright," Casalos said nonchalantly. "Every dragon has its own path. However..."

　He paused, the patterns on the scales becoming clearer: "This advancement isn't just about increasing defense. It fundamentally changes the dragon's body, granting it immunity to various energies and even the ability to withstand attacks from deeper, more powerful forces."

　"A deeper level?" the young female silver dragon couldn't help but interject.

　"Powers like 'Finger of Death' and 'Death by Law' might directly affect the concept of the soul's life itself," Casalos explained. "The most powerful fighting force within the Dragon Cult is essentially composed of liches. Whether humanoid or dragon liches, they are not fundamentally different; they all possess a large amount of instant-death power originating from the underworld. When dealing with them, we must be constantly vigilant and prepared to defend against such powers. Besides magical items and divine spells, the advancement of the Carved Skin Dragon will undoubtedly provide you with more comprehensive protection."

　Hevilan seemed thoughtful: "No wonder the dragons of Waterdeep have been studying this technique lately. Are you preparing for the upcoming war?"

　"I suppose so," Casalos didn't deny it. "The threat of the Dragon Cult is imminent; we need to be fully prepared."

　"Your foresight is truly admirable," Haiweilan said sincerely. "So, what are the specific methods for this advancement...?"

　Casalos retrieved a specially crafted memory crystal from among the scales: "The complete training method is contained within, including the order in which each pattern is inscribed, the necessary materials, and the difficulties you may encounter. However, I must warn you that this process is quite painful, and once you begin, you cannot stop."

　"Pain means nothing to dragons." Hevilan took the crystal and carefully put it away. "But what about you? How far have things progressed?"

　"All of them!" Casaroz displayed the patterns on the scales. "The advancement of the Carved Skin Dragon depends entirely on the carving of intricate patterns. As long as one has complete patterns and can endure the pain, the process is very fast."

　Admiration shone in Haivilan's eyes. "That's quite remarkable. It seems your will is strong enough to make most dragons tremble."

　"You flatter me," Casalos said modestly, but in his heart he was thinking: Compared to the repeated death experiences in the Dragon Vault, this is nothing.

6. Fragmented

　The negotiations above the sea of ​​clouds were nearing their end, and the setting sun painted the horizon with layers of golden-red hues, like molten metal flowing across the sky. Casalos remained hovering, defying its dragon instincts, its silvery-white scales shimmering faintly in the afterglow.

　"Speaking of which," Haivilan changed the subject, a hint of curiosity flashing in her molten mercury-like eyes, "the flying skills you demonstrated were quite special. To hover without flapping your wings—that's not something an ordinary dragon can do."

　"Just a little trick," Casalos said casually. "The principle is actually quite simple; the complexity lies in the dynamic balance control of the chaotic airflow."

　"Dynamic equilibrium in chaos?" Hevilan chuckled, her laughter echoing high in the sky like wind chimes. "An interesting proposition that reminds me of the Giszelai people. Do you know them?"

　"Your gaze is like a torch," Casalos replied frankly. "I truly owe my ability to wield this incredible power to those Zers."

　Azak suddenly interrupted, its silver scales slightly bristling: "The Giszerai? Those madmen from the Chaos Sea? You actually have connections with them?"

　"Azak." Hevilan gently restrained her deputy's emotions, giving Casalos a deep look, her voice tinged with a sigh.

　"Is this the fundamental reason why you don't care if other dragons learn your more efficient, albeit instinct-defying, flying method?" Hevilan said slowly. "We silver dragons have an innate and special connection with clouds and wind, and we cannot comprehend the true essence of your flying method. This is because you have already entered a deeper realm, just as you, with your youthful body, rivaled the power of the ancients..."

　She paused, then continued, "Since you're willing to give me the Carved Skin Pattern, I suppose you wouldn't mind other metal dragons besides the Claw of Justice learning these secrets as well... right?"

　"This gift is my formal gratitude for your initial assistance." Casalos nodded slightly, handing over the memory crystal containing the complete legacy of the Carved Skin Dragon. "As for what you do with it, that's entirely up to you..."

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　hot.

　The blinding sunlight scorched the earth like a branding iron.

　Dorne Greybrook stood on the dusty road, his nine-year-old body appearing so small in the blazing sun. The tall grass swayed in the hot wind, rustling like countless snakes whispering.

　No. He's not nine years old. He's an adult, a dragon slayer who's fought countless battles. But why are his hands so childish, and why is his perspective so low?

　My mother is singing.

　Her voice was erratic, sometimes clear, sometimes indistinct, as if through a layer of water. Her red braids shone brightly in the sunlight, but when he tried to see her face clearly, he found only a blurry shadow.

　"Look!" Priam's voice suddenly exploded, making his eardrums ache.

　The sky is bleeding.

　No, that's not blood. It's dragons. Red dragons, leaving scarlet trails across the azure sky. They circled, swooped, and frolicked, as if the whole world were their playground.

　Dorn tried to count them, but every time he counted to the third one, the first one would split into two. Two became four, four became eight, and soon the entire sky was covered by red dragon shadows.

　"Hide!" His mother's voice boomed in his ears, even though she was clearly standing far away.

　The grass began to grow.

　The grass, which had been waist-high, shot upwards wildly, quickly surpassing his head. He was trapped in a green maze, every blade of grass sharp as a knife, leaving fine cuts on his skin.

　Where is the carriage? Where are the guards? Where is Father?

　They were all gone. Only Mother remained, her figure appearing and disappearing in the grass like a flickering flame.

　"Run!" she shouted, but her lips didn't move. The voice resonated directly in his mind, carrying a heart-wrenching despair.

　Dorn wanted to run, but his legs felt like lead. With each step, the ground sank deeper. The mud turned into a swamp, the swamp into lava, and the lava back into solid earth.

　A deafening roar descended from the sky.

　That wasn't thunder. It was the sound of wings flapping, the sound of death descending.

　The red dragon landed.

　No, it didn't land. It hovered a few inches above the ground, its enormous body blotting out the sky. Its scales weren't scales, but countless distorted faces—Priam's, Janks's, and those of the guards whose names he couldn't recall.

　Every face is screaming.

　Why didn't you protect us?

　Why are we being killed?

　Why were you able to survive?