When the Young Dragon woke up again, the moment he opened his eyelids, a faint firelight pierced his retinas, bringing a brief dizziness.
The hard, cold rock sensation beneath him had disappeared, replaced by the rustling of dry straw and the rough yet soft texture of fabric.
The air was filled with a faint scent of sulfur, mixed with a strange smell—like herbs and the unique body odor of some reptile.
The body, which should have only been the size of a large dog, now seemed several times heavier, and every bone in his body was issuing a sour protest—this was the growing pain brought by rapid growth.
His dark iron-colored scales were thicker than before, their edges gleaming with a cold blue light, and every breath brought a roar within his chest like a bellows.
“Are you awake? Later than I expected.”
Olga’s magnetic yet cold voice came from the side.
She was sitting on a flat rock covered with animal skin, holding an obsidian mirror polished like a mirror surface, examining her makeup by the light of the fire pit nearby.
The black dress she wore had been simply mended, and her iconic black hair fell behind her like a waterfall; even in this dark, damp mine cave, she still maintained a breathtaking Queen aura.
“You slept for three whole days; Chloe was exhausted when she pushed you over.”
The Queen put down the obsidian mirror in her hand, turned her head, and her long, narrow phoenix eyes swept over with a hint of inquiry, looking at the dragon in front of her, which was 3 meters long and 2 meters high at the shoulder.
“However, it looks like that pile of treasure wasn’t eaten in vain. Although he is just a cub, this size is already comparable to an adult warg.”
She stood up, her high heels clicking crisply on the rocky ground.
Following her movements, Chloe also revealed her form from the shadows.
This half-breed knight was leaning against the cave entrance, keeping watch, her longsword still in hand, though obvious exhaustion and dark circles could be seen on that cold, stern face.
Clearly, she had been keeping her nerves taut for these past three days.
“Don’t be in such a hurry to move. Your magic circuits are as tangled as a ball of knotted yarn; it’s obvious you are still growing.”
Olga walked to the bed, reached out a finger from above, and gently tapped the hard dragon skull, a faint purple glimmer lighting up her fingertip.
“Besides… in this forgotten corner, we have had some unexpected ‘gains’.”
As she said this, she turned slightly and tilted her chin toward the shadows.
A rustling sound followed.
From the darkness behind Olga, a hunched yet sturdy figure slowly shuffled out.
It was a creature about 1.3 meters tall, covered in fine, dark green scales, with unnaturally knotted muscles, clearly much stronger than its ordinary kin.
The most striking feature was its head—it wore a crudely polished white skull, clearly belonging to some small dragon species, as a mask.
Two curved bone horns extended backward, and only murky yet fanatical yellow light shone from its two hollow eye sockets.
“This is a Kobold, a species born from the hybridization of dragons and other species. Because they are too lowly, they don’t even qualify to be called dragon-kin; they are born as slaves to dragons.”
Olga’s voice was filled with undisguised contempt, as if she were introducing a common tool.
“Their tribe has been entrenched in the depths of this abandoned mine, surviving by gnawing on mithril slag and lichen.”
“Although they have no strength to truss a chicken, in my empire, they were at most mining coolies. But for us now, they are somewhat useful slaves.”
The green figure shuddered violently upon seeing the dark iron-colored Young Dragon on the bed.
It let out a strange cry, as if its throat were clogged with phlegm, and suddenly dropped to its knees, prostrating itself.
The comical dragon-bone mask struck the ground heavily with a dull ‘thud’.
Blood flowed from its forehead, and fanatical loyalty projected from its eyes.
“Ga… hiss… True Dragon… My Lord…”
It roared in an extremely clumsy, grating voice, as if two stones were rubbing together.
Its trembling hands were held high above its head, palms cradling a few pieces of ore still stained with dirt and emitting a faint blue light, as if performing some primitive sacrificial ritual.
The Young Dragon suppressed his urge to immediately eat those scraps of ore.
Mithril ore has good value, but this was only a bit of slag.
Moreover, he had many questions to ask, but every time he tried to move his throat, he found that his current body could not speak human language.
Relying on gestures would likely be very difficult, so he decisively decided to contact the Main God and exchange for the language of this world.
[100 exchange points spent. Exchanged for Kuroinu World language.]
Subsequently, he felt his throat loosen up, and he opened his mouth to try to speak.
“Who… was your… previous… master?”
“Who… created… you?”
The low voice sounded like rough sandpaper scraping hard against a rusty iron plate, carrying the unique metallic vibration, echoing repeatedly in the narrow, damp mine cave.
The throat that had previously been unable to make any sound other than dragon roars now impossibly squeezed out the Kuroinu World language, not fluent, but articulated clearly.
Although the voice was extremely raspy, as if forced out from between two rocks, the majesty unique to a superior being contained within it was magnetic and impossible to conceal.
The air in the entire mine cave seemed to freeze in that instant.
The dripping sound of water became exceptionally piercing, and the flames in the brazier flickered violently, as if suppressed by some invisible force.
“Clatter.”
The exquisite obsidian mirror in Olga’s hand slipped, hitting the hard rocky ground with a crisp sound.
This Dark Elf queen, who had always remained calm even if Mount Tai collapsed before her, now had her usually half-lidded phoenix eyes widened in disbelief.
She stood up from the rock as if pricked by a needle, her black skirt creating a sudden rush of wind, her previously elegant and lazy demeanor instantly vanishing.
“Your Majesty!”
Chloe, who had been keeping watch on the side, reacted extremely quickly, rushing in front of Olga in a single stride the moment the voice sounded.
The longsword in her hand hummed, the tip trembling slightly.
Her red pupils were filled with shock and confusion, her gaze locked firmly onto the massive creature on the bed that had just spoken.
“This… Your Majesty, how is this possible? Is it possessed by some high-level demon? Or is it…”
Chloe’s voice was dry from nervousness.
While shielding the queen and stepping back, she looked around vigilantly, as if searching for the source of the voice, even though reason told her the sound came from the mouth of this Ferro-Dragon.
Olga ignored the knight’s question; she just stared intently at the Ferro-Dragon lying on the straw pile.
Her slender fingers gripped her sleeves tightly, her knuckles turning slightly white from the force, and her chest heaved violently from the shock.
“This is impossible…” Olga took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart, but her voice still carried a trace of uncontrollable trembling.
“Although the dragon race is a superior species among monsters, they are essentially still magical beasts.”
“Their vocal cord structure is simply incapable of producing complex language, let alone this… this kind of questioning with logic and purpose.”
She took half a step forward, pushing aside Chloe’s shielding arm, the light in her eyes shifting from shock to a more fanatical and complex desire for inquiry.
“…What exactly are you?”
The Dragon-born Kobold kneeling on the ground was now trembling like a sieve.
The light bursting from its murky eyes could only be described as fanatical madness; hearing a ‘True Dragon’ speak the holy language was, to it, like the arrival of a divine miracle.
“Gaah…! True Dragon… The True Dragon has spoken!”
The Kobold, ignoring the blood still flowing from its forehead, slammed the comical skull mask even harder against the ground, making a loud thudding sound, while roaring incoherently:
“Great… Supreme… Master… Previous Master… Dead… All dead…”
It gasped incoherently, seemingly struggling to organize its meager language to answer this supreme question.
“It was…
the ancient…
those white-robed…
mages…
in a very deep…
very deep place…
made us…
then…
were eaten by…
the black…
mist…”
However, compared to the two shocked Dark Elves, the Young Dragon felt that the Kobold’s answer was as good as saying nothing, containing no informational value.
The low voice with a metallic texture rang out in the mine cave again, this time with a more distinct sense of oppression.
“What kind of… dragon… was your… previous… master?”
“How many… years ago… was that?”
Every syllable was like a hammer striking the rock wall.
The Dragon-born Kobold kneeling on the ground trembled violently due to fear and the attempt to mobilize its withered brain.
Its murky yellow eyes were filled with chaotic spirals, and its two scale-covered claws gestured wildly in the air, as if trying to grasp those ethereal fragments of time.
“Ga… it was… very big… very white…”
“No… it was shining… like… the sun in the sky…”
“Time… time is…”
The Kobold anxiously began to count its only three fingers, counting over and over, and finally even began to scratch at the gravel on the ground, making meaningless whimpering sounds: “Many… many winters… fingers not enough… stones not enough… Gaah! Brain… brain is going to split!”
It slammed the skull mask against the ground with force.
Clearly, for this lowly creature born as a slave to dragons, which had not even inherited writing, ‘history’ and ‘era’ were concepts too profound.
Its memory was like the mud in this mine, already a complete mess.
“Don’t waste your effort. Expecting this kind of lowly creature, whose brain only contains ore slag and mating, to remember things from hundreds of years ago is better than expecting the stones themselves to speak.”
Olga’s cold voice cut in, interrupting this meaningless questioning.
She walked past the Kobold with elegant steps and approached the Young Dragon.
“If I am not mistaken, this is a royal mithril mine that belonged two hundred years ago to the Northern Theocracy, one of the predecessors of the current Seven Shield Alliance.”
The queen turned around, her back to the faint firelight, her shadow stretched long and cast over the Young Dragon’s massive body.
Those amber eyes narrowed slightly, no longer looking at the trembling Kobold, but staring fixedly at the Ferro-Dragon’s dark red vertical pupils, as if trying to catch any trace of emotional fluctuation from within.
“The so-called ‘white-robed mages’ were likely the priesthood responsible for alchemy in the Theocracy at the time.
As for the ‘previous dragon master’ the waste speaks of…” Olga’s lips curled into a mocking arc, “it was most likely a ‘chimera’ stitched together from alchemy and the flesh of magical beasts, or a half-breed dragon watchdog known as a ‘Pseudo-Dragon’.
To protect precious mithril mines, humans will create anything disgusting.”
She paused, her tone becoming meaningful, her body leaning forward slightly, the sense of oppression belonging to a queen released without reservation.
“Two hundred years ago, a tragic magic runaway accident occurred here, which the Theocracy publicly declared as the ‘Black Mist Catastrophe’, sealing off the entire mine. Since then, this place has become a forbidden zone, where even the greediest adventurers dare not step foot.”
Olga said this while carefully observing the Young Dragon’s reaction.
She was testing him; if the dragon before her was an awakened being of some ancient bloodline, then according to legend, such dragons should have some intuition about the history of this land, or show anger toward ‘Pseudo-Dragons’.
However, nothing happened; Olga only saw calmness and contemplation in its eyes.
Such a performance made her feel far more wary than the enraged dragon she had anticipated.
“Just empty intelligence? Then things are even simpler.”
After the brief shock, Olga instead revealed an even more dangerous smile.
Her long, narrow phoenix eyes narrowed again, revealing the unique light of a superior examining a toy.
“Since you can understand speech, that saves me the time of training you to understand orders. Listen well, lowly magical beast,”
The queen’s voice was deliberately lowered, carrying a cold temptation and an unquestionable tone of command.
“You are fortunate to have been chosen by me as a blade for revenge. Now, kneel and offer your loyalty.”
As her voice fell, a cluster of dark purple, eerie light slowly rose in her honey-colored palm, condensing into a complex, constantly rotating magic circle that seemed to be composed of countless tiny runes.
The light flickered, emitting an aura of domination that made the soul tremble.
This was her most proud dark sorcery—the Mark of Enslavement.
“Swear to me; your fangs will tear apart my enemies, and your dragon wings will carry my throne.”
“Otherwise…”
Olga’s red lips curled into a cruel arc, and the purple light on her fingertip flickered.
“I don’t mind personally cutting open your chest to see what color the heart of a speaking dragon really is.”
However, facing this naked threat, the dragon on the straw pile, whose size was already quite significant, only slowly and heavily raised its head.
His movements were slow, but incredibly firm.
The massive dragon head did not lower in the slightest, instead looking levelly at the queen of the fallen nation before him.
Immediately after, the thick forelimb covered in dark iron scales moved forward, emitting a clear ‘click’ sound, its claws sinking deep into the rocky ground below.
This was a gesture of refusal, a body language that clearly stated, ‘I will not kneel’.
Subsequently, that heart-palpitating voice, as if coming from the depths of the earth, rang out again.
“Loyalty… is for the weak toward the strong.”
The raspy and majestic voice echoed in the cave, every word like a heavy hammer striking the hearts of everyone present.
The dragon’s dark red vertical pupils looked directly at Olga, the light of flames dancing deep within those eyes, without a trace of the chaos that belonged to magical beasts, only a pure, rational luster.
“I… will carry you out of the sea of fire, and grant you protection…”
“I am… the strong one.”
His pronunciation was still raw, but every word was emphasized heavily, like a giant who had just learned to walk, with every step treading on the ground, leaving deep imprints.
The purple light cluster in Olga’s palm shook violently, almost dissipating.
For the first time, an expression called ‘astonishment’ truly appeared on her face, which always wore arrogance and contempt.
This dragon…
no, this existence…
was actually discussing with her who was stronger and who was weaker between them?
Chloe, who had been maintaining vigilance, gripped her sword hilt even tighter, fine cold sweat seeping from her forehead.
She could feel that the pressure radiating from this dragon was stronger than before; this was not simple dragon might, but a power dominated by the will of an intelligent being.
“You want… to be… on equal footing with me?”
A sense of incredible absurdity seeped through Olga’s voice.
The dragon did not answer, but instead slowly stood up from the straw pile.
His massive body, already comparable to an adult dire wolf, brought a strong sense of oppression, and the space inside the cave instantly seemed cramped and unbearable.
Then, the dragon stated his opinion.
“Wrong… you and I are not equal…”
“You should… submit to… me.”
This short sentence was like a silent slap, striking hard against the arrogant self-esteem of this queen of a fallen nation.
Olga’s face turned livid with anger, her arrogant phoenix eyes almost spewing fire, and the lazy mask she had been maintaining shattered piece by piece.
“Audacious reptile! Who taught you this set of ignorant, arrogant rhetoric?!”
Her voice sounded sharp due to suppressed extreme anger, piercing the eardrums of those in the narrow mine tunnel.
“Do you really think that just because you can fly, you are a deity?”
“The only reason I sought your opinion was because your stinking shell is still weak, and I remembered that you had merit in saving me, so I felt a sliver of pity for a tool!”
“Now you dare to turn around and extort a monarch, wanting me to submit to you? Truly a mayfly shaking a tree, the biggest joke under heaven!”
“I am the daughter of the Creator God, and you! You are nothing but a piece of the Creator God’s hard humerus! How dare you attempt to usurp?!”
As Queen Olga Discretia roared in anger, the brazier in the mine tunnel suddenly flickered violently, and on the dim stone wall, the Queen’s already slender silhouette was distorted and elongated.
Thick black mist slowly rose from beneath her feet, wrapping around her like a veil of ink.
The air began to fill with the acrid smell of sulfur and ash, and countless faces of tormented, twisted souls vaguely appeared in the void, their mouths opening silently to emit deathly wails toward the Young Dragon.
This was the magic she had deliberately mobilized, intending to shatter the Young Dragon’s will and display her own power.
The Kobold nearby wailed and trembled; paralyzed by fear before this terrifying magic, he could only hide behind a stone pillar like a lowly maggot, praying to his ancestors and the Young Dragon.
And Olga, she flipped her long, honey-colored palm once more, and the purple orb of magic from before suddenly expanded, transforming into a pitch-black magic seal engraved with complex and eerie runes.
The magic seal emitted an even stronger gravitational pull than before, as if it intended to rip the Young Dragon’s soul right out.
“Now, you lowly magical beast, kneel before me!”
“Obey my command, or you shall become my most loyal puppet! Submit!”
Olga roared fiercely, pushing the magic seal toward the Young Dragon.
The Young Dragon’s massive body remained unmoved by the overwhelming pressure of her magic.
His head remained held high; there was not a trace of anger in his dark red, slit-pupiled eyes, only a profound sense of calm and refusal.
A low syllable was squeezed with difficulty from the depths of his tooth-filled throat.
The syllable was short and powerful, like a nail driven into the air thick with magical pressure.
“No.”
At the same time, an invisible wave erupted from the Young Dragon.
This was not merely a sound wave, but one accompanied by the majesty from the depths of the dragon’s soul, as if the entire mine tunnel were breathing under its command.
The heavy barrier of magic pressing down on the firelight was torn apart in an instant; the air emitted a faint sound like silk being violently ripped, and the thick black mist and spectral images surrounding Olga were abruptly pushed outward.
The enslavement seal gathered in Olga’s palm trembled violently, the purple and black magic being violently compressed back by an invisible force, causing her body to sway slightly and a flash of incredulous surprise to cross her eyes.
The Kobold, who had been kneeling, was now completely flattened on the ground, his body tense as stone, emitting a series of low gurgles—a mixture of extreme fear and fanatical reverence.
The True Dragon did not need to roar; with just a simple word, he had shattered the magic the Dark Elf Queen was so proud of!
Beside her, Chloe already had her hand on her sword hilt, her breathing becoming rapid.
If this dragon were enraged, they would have no chance of winning in this narrow cave.
Olga was stunned; she could not believe her magic had actually failed.
That enslavement seal, which had condensed thirty percent of her magic and enslaved many high-level magical beasts, was now like a kite torn apart by a gale; the purple runes crumbled inch by inch, turning into a sky full of fine light particles that fell onto the damp rocky ground and vanished instantly.
The Dark Elf’s pride wavered slightly.
Although she knew she was not in her prime, the opponent was merely a Young Dragon.
[Or, is the opponent truly more than just a magical beast?]
Olga felt the residual magic in her palm backfire, surging up through her meridians to her heart, causing her to grunt and a faint trace of purple-black blood to spill from the corner of her mouth.
This was a sign that the backlash of magic had scorched her internal organs.
“Your Majesty!”
Chloe exclaimed, instinctively moving to support her, but was stopped by Olga’s abrupt gesture.
Those phoenix eyes, usually filled with arrogance and calculation, now held only extreme shock and a hint of panic she hadn’t even realized herself, locked firmly onto the massive, iron-colored creature on the straw pile.
This was by no means an ordinary Ferro-Dragon.
“You…” Olga’s voice was hoarsely strained; her previous fierce roar had long since vanished, leaving only an undisguisable tremor.
She raised her hand to wipe the blood from the corner of her mouth, her knuckles white.
“What exactly are you?”