His heavy eyelids were like a stone door that had been sealed for a thousand years, slowly pulling open with the rough sound of gravel grinding.
What first flooded his senses was not light, but that familiar and reassuring, thick smell of rust and clean dead ash, mixed with the scents of countless strange living things full of awe and trembling for him.
Balthazar’s consciousness floated up from that bottomless dream of genetic recombination.
He felt his body was as heavy as a mountain, but this heaviness was not weakness, but an extreme compression of mass and density.
He instinctively wanted to stretch his limbs, which had been curled up for a week.
“Click—Boom—”
Just a simple movement of raising his head and stretching his forelimbs caused the thick layer of limestone debris and dust covering him to slide off like an avalanche.
The Ferro-Dragon scales that were originally pressed against his body emitted a series of explosions like heavy machinery interlocking, and each scale sparked slightly during the friction.
If his scales were rough cast iron before he slept, now, this suit of black armor had turned into some kind of deep, black crystal alloy capable of devouring light.
As he moved, a strange water ripple would occasionally flash across the surface of his scales—this was proof that the “Optical Camouflage” gene from the Indominus Rex had perfectly integrated into the Ferro-Dragon bloodline.
“Hoo…”
Two streams of hot white smoke puffed out from his nostrils, instantly blowing away the dust on the ground in front of him.
Balthazar’s dark red vertical pupils quickly focused; his originally blurred vision instantly became incomparably sharp, even able to clearly capture the dust floating in the air.
And what came into his view was a grand pilgrimage.
The originally empty and desolate Iron Imperial Palace cavern was now, surprisingly, appearing somewhat crowded.
Everywhere his vision reached was filled with moving heads.
Hundreds…
no, perhaps nearly a thousand pairs of eyes emitting a faint yellow light were staring fixedly in this direction under the dim torchlight.
These were not the dozens of Kobolds from before, but a true army, or rather, a massive tribe.
They were densely kneeling on the open ground thirty meters away from the dragon nest, arranged according to some primitive hierarchy.
At the very front were those strong individuals equipped with iron pickaxes, and on the periphery were countless thin wanderers whose eyes shone with the light of hope.
Upon hearing the movement of the dragon waking up, the entire cavern instantly fell into a deathly silence; even the sound of breathing seemed to have stopped.
Directly in front of the dragon’s head, that former Dark Elves queen, Olga, was sitting on a rock covered with soft dinosaur skin.
She held an old parchment book of unknown origin in her hands; it seemed that ever since he fell into a deep slumber, she had been guarding him.
When she saw Balthazar open his eyes, a flicker of irrepressible surprise and relief crossed her face, which always wore a mask of arrogance.
Beside Olga was that half-breed Dark Elves female knight, Chloe, who was carrying the dragon’s offspring.
She was still in a comatose state, wrapped in a black blanket and placed in a comfortable nest made of hay and dinosaur hides.
In the span of a week, her lower abdomen had swollen as noticeably as if she were nine months pregnant, and faint, fine golden dragon scale patterns had appeared on her skin, radiating a pure Dragon Might that kept the surrounding Kobolds from daring to approach.
“Roar…” Balthazar opened his large mouth and let out his first roar since waking up.
This sound had become deeper and more resonant, like muffled thunder in the deep sea, shaking the stalactites at the top of the cavern until they trembled slightly.
His massive body stood up completely; his body length had crossed the ten-meter mark, and his shoulder height had reached an astonishing four meters.
A huge black shadow was cast upon the rock wall, like the descent of a demon god.
“Re…port.” It was still that hoarse, metallic-textured Common language, but this time, Balthazar spoke more fluently; every syllable felt like a hammer striking the hearts of all the creatures present.
His demeanor was lazy and arrogant; his vertical pupils swept indifferently over the “ants” below, much like a lord looking at his own overflowing granary, feeling both greedy and satisfied.
Hearing its master’s voice, the old Kobold, Kral, who had been kneeling at the very front, sprang up abruptly.
It was even wearing a half-body leather armor stripped from some unlucky human, and it held up that iron pickaxe which seemed to symbolize power among the Kobolds, dancing and gesturing excitedly like a madman.
“He has awakened!
The great Dragon Emperor has awakened!” “Praise you!
You are the nightmare of the mountains!
You are the master of steel!
You are…
you are our Steel Dragon Emperor!”
Following Kral’s shriek, the sea of black Kobolds behind simultaneously knocked their heads against the ground, emitting a wave of fanatical shouts like the rising tide: “Woof!
Woof!
Dragon Emperor!
Dragon Emperor!” “Cheep!
Long live Balthazar!
Long live!!
Long live Balthazar!!!”
At this moment, the panel appeared before Balthazar again.
Name: Balthazar
Gender: Male (Young)
HP: 450/450
Stamina: 160/160
Mana: 180/180
Strength: 30 (Dragon-level crushing strength, a flying battleship)
Agility: 18 (A massive and swift dragon body, though the sheer size makes you less agile.)
Endurance: 35 (An impregnable fortress forged of black iron; fighting you is like besieging a massive city.)
Intelligence: 12 (Cunning far exceeding most humans; your wisdom alone can make your opponents suffer.)
Perception: 18 (Keen dragon perception, smell, and vision, allowing you to see through most hidden things.)
[Molten Iron Ray Lv1]: Spews a plasma jet mixed with high-voltage current and molten metal ions, with high-temperature penetration, paralysis, and EMP effects.
[Optical Camouflage (C+)]: Passively refracts light to blur outlines, can be activated to become invisible (but fails during intense attacks).
[Dragon Might Lv3]: Regional mental suppression, absolute dominance over low-level creatures, can even cause substantial mental damage.
[Mineral Vein Perception]: Can perceive mineral veins within several kilometers.
[True Name Release]: When announcing your True Name, all attributes increase slightly for a short time, gaining recognition of your hegemony status by the laws of the world.
[Kuroinu World Language LV1]: As a dragon, you cannot speak fluently, but you understand the reading and writing of this world.
Possessed Items: [Treasure in Belly]: Undigested gold coins and gems (reserves of the City of Darkness).
Exchange Points: 3500 points.
Balthazar enjoyed the impact of this cheering, and looking at these powerful panel statistics, he slightly opened his mouth and let out a roar of satisfaction.
“Roar…!” That satisfied roar was like a tangible wave of sound, instantly overpowering the shrill voices of all the Kobolds.
Several stalactites at the top of the cavern could not bear the weight, snapping and crashing into the pile of rocks in the distance, kicking up a cloud of dust. New chapters come out on NovelPing first.
But this did not cause these fanatical slaves to feel fear; instead, it made the fire of worship in their eyes burn even more intensely.
This was their master; with just a single breath, a single low roar, he possessed the power to alter the environment.
Balthazar watched this scene, his dark red vertical pupils slightly narrowing, his massive chest heaving with a pleasurable hum.
He withdrew his gaze from those lowly kin, his thick neck—strong enough to easily crush rocks—slowly turning, accompanied by the harsh metallic sound of scales scraping against each other, as he brought his massive head closer to the rock platform located to his front-side.
There sat his currently only “peer” conversationalist.
As the dragon’s head approached, a hot wave mixed with sulfur, rust, and the high heat as if just brought out from a steel-smelting furnace rushed toward her, blowing up the skirt of Olga’s tattered dress under her black robe and her long black hair.
Olga did not flinch, nor did she even blink.
She merely quickly closed the heavy ancient book in her hands, stood up elegantly from the rock, folded her hands in front of her lower abdomen, and tilted her head slightly, staring at the dark red dragon eye that was already larger than half her body.
In the reflection of that pupil, she saw her own small yet clear silhouette.
“Olga…” Balthazar opened his mouth, the vocal organs deep in his throat vibrating; every syllable was like an iron block hitting the ground—heavy, hoarse, yet carrying an evolved, clearer magnetic resonance.
He exhaled a scorching breath; the high temperature, which almost set the air around Olga on fire, caused a flush to appear on her originally honey-colored cheeks.
“Tell… me.” The dragon’s razor-sharp front claws unconsciously scratched against the hard rock floor, leaving several gouges several inches deep, demonstrating the explosive power within him that had just awakened and was in urgent need of release.
“How… long… did… I… sleep?” His vertical pupils turned slightly, scanning the surrounding Kobold tribe, which had clearly increased several times in number and had even begun to build simple defensive fortifications, before locking back onto the Dark Elves queen’s face.
“Things…
have…
changed…
a…
lot…
here.” There was no doubt in his tone, only the matter-of-factness of a lord inspecting his territory, along with a hint of silent inquiry regarding the “housekeeper’s” work efficiency.
And Olga could no longer treat this attitude of the dragon with any contempt.
Because she could feel that the Dragon Might shrouding her was several times heavier than it had been a week ago.
It was no longer a simple beastly pressure, but a higher-order sense of oppression, as if facing an ancient deity.
Her breathing became rapid involuntarily, her heart rate accelerated; it was the instinctive fear of a living creature, and also a certain trembling pleasure of desiring submission deeply buried in her heart.
She took a deep breath, striving to maintain the last shred of dignity as a former queen, and lifting her skirt, she performed a standard courtly bow toward the black Steel Dragon Emperor before her.
“Salutations to you, great Master of the Black Mountain, supreme Steel Dragon Emperor.” Although Olga tried her best to keep her voice steady, it still sounded somewhat shaky before that massive dragon head.
“As you can see, this sleep of yours lasted for seven full days and nights.”
She raised her hand, pointing to the sea of black Kobolds below, a complex light flashing in her eyes.
It was pride in her assisted management over the past week, and also amazement at the power of the one who started all of this.
“And in this week that you slept… the world, or at least this Black Mountain, has undergone some small but interesting changes.”
“What… changes?”
Olga did not answer directly; instead, her amber eyes curved slightly, revealing a smile full of deep meaning.
She turned around, her black skirt tracing an elegant arc on the rock floor, and pointed casually toward the dense, even somewhat crowded, community of creatures below.
“First, is the scale of your ‘private property’.”
Following her gesture, within the previously dead-silent Kobold phalanx below, Kral immediately raised that rough, primitive, yet polished iron pickaxe.
“Roar—!!!” Unexpectedly, the response to Olga’s gesture was no longer the shrill, cowardly “Woof woof” sound from before, but a roar that, while noisy, was significantly deeper and even carried a few hints of fierce wildness.
Olga tilted her head slightly, signaling the dragon to observe carefully.
“Those twenty tons of flesh from top predators from another world are, to these low-level creatures that have always gnawed on moss and slag, no less than a ‘miracle drug’ for rebirth.”
Her voice carried a hint of amazement.
“Kral spread the news that as long as they submit to the Master of Steel of the Black Mountain, there would be endless ‘dragon meat’ to eat. As a result… wild wandering tribes within a hundred miles flocked over like they were crazy.”
“And among them, after living here and eating, such individuals have appeared.”
By the light of the torches held by the surrounding Kobolds, Balthazar could clearly see that the three hundred or so sturdy Kobolds in the front row, who served as the main force, were clearly a size larger than the 1.3-meter Kobolds Balthazar had seen a week ago, with heights approaching 1.8 meters.
Their originally hunched spines had become straight, the scales covering their bodies were no longer a dusty gray color but displayed a dark red luster similar to rust, the muscle lines were faintly visible under the rough leather armor, and even the mining picks in their hands seemed light as nothing when swung.
“This is the first change—your army, although still very primitive, has increased in number by twenty times, and possesses astonishing loyalty and physique.”
Speaking up to this point, Olga paused, restrained her smile, and her expression became somewhat more serious.
She slowly walked down from the rock platform, her bare feet stepping on the cold stone surface, until she reached the side of the dragon’s massive front claw.
She extended a slender finger, pointing to the deep ground beneath her feet, and then to the even darker tunnel deep in the cavern.
“As for the second change… that was discovered by Kral and the others when they were digging and expanding deeper to accommodate more tribesmen.”
“Kral!” Following Olga’s cold, low shout, the old Kobold immediately turned around and waved to the few strongest tribesmen behind it.
Those four sturdy, mutated Kobolds, who were nearly the height of a human at 1.8 meters, came up grunting and panting while carrying an object wrapped in thick animal hide.
Every step they took was extremely heavy, clearly indicating that the object had an astonishing density.
When they reached the dragon and set down the heavy object, Olga stepped forward and ripped off the animal hide.
“Hum—”
A visible dark red heat wave instantly spread from the object, and the surrounding air became distorted due to the high temperature.
It was a crystalline ore the size of a millstone.
It was not as lifeless as ordinary rock, but rather like a solidified blood clot just dug out from a living body; the whole body presented a deep dark red, and the surface was covered with golden veins pulsating like blood vessels.
The moment this ore was exposed to the air, the already sweltering temperature in the entire cavern—caused by the massive number of Kobolds and the mine itself—rose by several more degrees.
A sense of ancient, grand, yet vibrant rhythm filled the space.
Olga looked at this ore, a flash of fear and fanaticism in her eyes.
“This is the rock layer they encountered after digging about three hundred meters down.” She raised her head, looking up at Balthazar, “This entire Black Mountain is the corpse of that ‘Father God’… and your slaves seem to be overly lucky, or perhaps received some kind of guidance—they dug into a main blood vessel of the ‘Father God’, or some kind of energy-transmitting nerve cord.”
She took a deep breath, and in this sweltering air, her voice became somewhat parched:
“The concentration of energy contained in this ore is ten times higher than the highest purity magic crystal I have ever seen.”
“And… ever since you began your slumber here, these ore veins buried deep underground seem to have ‘come alive,’ beginning to radiate heat.”
Kral also crowded over at this moment.
He dared not look directly into the dragon’s eyes, but knelt on the ground, greedily and reverently stroking the scorching hot ore, and added in a shrill voice:
“Yes! Great Master! This ‘father god blood ore’ is extremely hard! Only by using the sturdiest pickaxes can we barely chip off a little bit!”
“And… and when we get close to it, we feel our strength increase. Although we also become very irritable… it is definitely the best treasure to offer to you!”
“Kral, Kral offers it to you, offers this gift!”
“Huff…”
Two jets of scorching white smoke sprayed from the giant dragon’s nostrils, instantly enveloping the dark red crystal.
Balthazar did not rush to make a judgment.
He lowered his massive head slightly, like a connoisseur examining a rare treasure, bringing his dark red slit pupils to within a few centimeters of the ore.
The pulsating sensation originating from within the ore made him feel a strange familiarity, as if this were a missing part of his body, calling out to return. You are reading on novelping.com, the official source.
He extended a sharp foreclaw, carefully—for a ten-meter-long dragon, this required extremely high control—and gently touched the scorching hot “father god blood ore” with the tip.
“Szz—”
A burst of red electric arcs instantly rose from the point of contact, but these arcs did not harm him; instead, like a docile stream of water, they climbed up along his dark iron dragon scales, bringing a tingling sensation of pleasure.
“Hmm…”
A satisfied low moan rolled through Balthazar’s throat.
“Very good…”
Hearing this satisfied exclamation from Balthazar, Kral wept bitterly, tears streaming down his face.
“Squeak! Kral is so happy! Kral has lived a life worth living! Squeak!”
He retracted his claw, then slowly raised his head, those oppressive eyes looking back at Olga before him.
“Us… age?”
The two short words fell like a heavy hammer.
His voice was deep and hoarse, carrying an unquestionable tone of command.
At the same time, his thick tail swayed unconsciously behind him, easily shattering a half-man-high rock behind him, manifesting his urgent desire.
Facing the dragon’s immense pressure that was almost pressed against her face, Olga did not take a single step back.
She gently smoothed out the wrinkles on her skirt blown up by the hot wind, her amber eyes shimmering with wisdom and reserve.
“This is precisely the point I wish to report to you.”
Olga bowed slightly, her posture as elegant as if this were not a dragon’s den filled with the smell of sulfur, but her former throne hall.
“According to ancient records passed down within my Dark Elves race, the blood of the ‘father god’ contains divinity of a creation-level magnitude. Now that they have solidified into ore, although their nature has become volatile, their uses have become even more extensive.”
She extended her right hand, wearing a tattered lace glove, and held up two fingers.
“The first is ‘forging’ and ‘energy’.”
“Although ordinary flames cannot smelt it, if it is you, who possesses such a body now and should be capable of emitting dragon fire…”
She looked significantly at the electric sparks faintly radiating from Balthazar’s throat due to his excitement.
“…You should be able to use them as a core to forge legendary magi-tech armaments for me, or as a power source for some kind of giant facility.”
“Even if simply piled up in the lair, the radiation they emit can continuously strengthen the physique of your humble minions, just like this.”
Speaking to this point, Olga paused, her eyes becoming somewhat complex, even carrying a trace of nervousness.
She slowly lowered one finger, leaving only the last one pointing at the ore.
“The second… is a privilege that only you, as a ‘being of the same source,’ possess.”
“Devour.”
As soon as these two words were spoken, Kral beside her shivered all over, nearly dropping the iron pickaxe in his hand.
Olga, however, looked straight into Balthazar’s slit pupils, her tone becoming serious and solemn:
“I can feel that there is a certain resonance between your aura and this stone. If you directly devour and digest it, although it is accompanied by huge risks.”
“That violent divinity might overwhelm your sanity, or cause uncontrollable mutations in your flesh—but if you succeed, you will directly plunder that ancient divine power, gaining strength far beyond simple physical evolution.”
“Whether you choose to safely use it as a cornerstone of resources, or take the risk to make it a part of yourself…”
Olga bowed deeply once more, the corners of her mouth curling into a meaningful arc, containing both advice as an ally and the anticipation of someone watching a show.
“This all depends on you… this future master of the multiverse empire, and how much boldness you possess.”
Under Olga’s gaze, that giant claw covered in pitch-black scales did not, as Olga had expected, tear open that pulsating “heart” and put it into his mouth.
Instead, accompanied by a dull sound of rock friction, he pressed the high-temperature-emitting [father god blood ore] heavily into a natural depression in the center of the cave.
Subsequently, Balthazar spoke again.
“What I need…”
“Is an army… that can help me rule the world.”
Accompanied by Balthazar’s declaration, a will, hotter than magma and heavier than the abyss, surged along the invisible spiritual link between the two, slamming into Olga’s mind without reservation.
“Ugh…”
In that instant, this once-arrogant Dark Elves queen’s body shuddered violently, her legs involuntarily pressed together, and she even nearly collapsed to the ground due to the weakness in her knees.
That was not pain, but a pleasure sufficient to burn away reason.
Through the spiritual link covered by the communication magic she had cast on Balthazar when migrating to this Black Mountain previously, it became unprecedentedly active at this moment.
She could feel it; she “saw” the blueprint.
A meticulously planned catastrophe that would sweep across the entire continent.
Those seven steel fortresses, which humans were proud of and which guarded the main traffic arteries, turned into ruins and scorched earth under the shadow of black dragon wings that blotted out the sky; and that northern homeland, shrouded in blizzards all year round, which would make her feel a bone-chilling cold even when thinking of it in the cave right now—Nidavellir, that luxurious and extravagant underground city ruled by her arrogant, rigid, and ignorant kin, was wailing and collapsing in a sea of dragon fire.
This pure-to-the-extreme desire for conquest, along with the undisguised ambition of a tyrant wanting to hold the world in his palm, was like the most potent aphrodisiac, instantly piercing through the last shred of reserve in Olga’s heart.
A strange flush appeared on her originally honey-colored cheeks, and in those amber eyes, there was no longer any trace of probing or reservation, replaced instead by a kind of near-pathological fanaticism and surprise.
“Ah…”
Olga let out a broken moan, then, as if using all her strength to suppress the urge to scream, the corners of her mouth uncontrollably curled upwards crazily, revealing a smile that was both heartbreakingly beautiful and hideous.
“This is what I have been waiting for… hehehe… hahahaha!”
She suddenly burst into loud laughter, the laughter echoing in the empty cave, making the surrounding Kobolds, who did not know what had happened, tremble with fear.
“That’s right! It should be like this! Those stupid kin sisters of mine who cling to old rules and stripped me of all my rights and even my reproductive qualifications… and those greedy, insatiable Black Dog Mercenary Group who destroyed my kingdom…!”
Olga suddenly lifted her tattered skirt, no longer caring about the dirt on the ground, and knelt on one knee beside the dragon’s claw.
She reached out, and through that spiritual link, showed the black hatred churning in the depths of her soul to the monarch before her without reservation.
“Since you want to establish an invincible army capable of trampling these seven fortresses and breaking through the absolute defense of Nidavellir.”
“Then this ‘father god blood ore’ should indeed not just become your ration.”
She looked up, her eyes terrifyingly bright, like two burning ghost fires.
“I still remember the construction blueprints for the ‘Titan Forge’ in the forbidden books of Nidavellir.”
“Using this divine blood crystal, which possesses near-infinite activity, as a core, we can build a power furnace capable of devouring raw iron day and night, automatically refining and forging enchanted armaments.”
Saying this, she turned her head and looked at the group of Kobolds who were looking blank because they did not understand the common language.
“Did you hear that! Humble reptiles! Your master does not intend to hoard this treasure for himself, but to grant you armaments! This stone will become the spark for the heart of this Black Mountain!”
Although Kral could not understand what fortresses or Nidavellir were, it understood the two words “armaments” and “spark.”
“Woof! Spark! Forging! For the Dragon Emperor!”
Kral waved its pickaxe frantically; although it could not understand that grand strategy, it could feel the prelude to war permeating the air that made one’s blood boil.
Olga looked back at Balthazar, her beautiful face filled with deep intoxication—the intoxication of an Avenger who has found the perfect weapon.
“For your ambition, Dragon, Steel Dragon Emperor. And also for my insignificant revenge… I will design this furnace for you.”
“When the first batch of black iron armor and black weapons flows out from here, that will be the day this continent trembles.”