Chapter 591: Platinum Strict Father, Twilight, Storm |
Garoth slowly rose from the bottom of the lake.
Water from the cold sacred spring slid off his body. He could feel his body restored to peak condition, even a touch stronger than before.
The life essence in the spring seeped into his scales, muscles, and bones.
It was as if his entire body had been comprehensively tempered.
When he broke the surface, he noticed a figure standing on the shore.
The Silver Dragon King, Nereus Alectra.
She still wore that deep-blue gown, her silver-white hair fluttering gently in the breeze.
She faced away from the lake, as if gazing toward the distant, rolling mountains; her long silhouette was unusually tranquil.
But Garoth knew she was not admiring the view—she was waiting for him.
Nereus did not turn. Her voice floated on the wind.
Reliving the dream just now, Garoth said, “Yes, a beautiful dream.”
“How’s the recovery?”
The Silver Dragon King changed the subject.
“Very good.”
The red iron dragon swam to the shore and climbed onto the rocks.
“Better than expected. The effects of this sacred spring...astonish me.”
He shook his massive head; droplets flew everywhere, splashing onto nearby rocks and grass, then settled a respectful distance from the Silver Dragon King.
Although the Vophal Dragon Domain treated him kindly, manners and restraint were still required.
Metal dragons cared about these things.
“Your Grace.” The red iron dragon spoke politely. “I have a request.”
“Speak.”
“I hope to return here in the future, to use the sanctuaries of the Vophal Dragon Domain.”
Garoth looked directly at the Silver Dragon King’s profile and said, “Not for free. I can offer an equivalent exchange—treasures, intelligence, materials, whatever the Vophal Domain needs.”
“As long as I can provide it, name your price.”
The Silver Dragon King turned her head, amusement flickering in her silver eyes.
“Equivalent exchange?”
She let out a soft laugh.
“Garoth, do you know what this sacred spring means to a dragon domain? It is a strategic stronghold of the Vophal Dragon Domain, the accumulation of countless years.”
“Your kingdom may be vast, but its foundation is shallow. I don’t believe you can produce something truly equivalent.”
“The Vophal Domain has deep heritage and long roots, while Garoth’s kingdom was founded too recently and lacks accumulation; the gap between you isn’t bridged by a few boastful words.”
Garoth fell silent for a moment.
“Hmm, you’re right,” he admitted calmly. “But I can promise: one day in the future, when the Vophal Domain needs me, I will come to its aid—no matter the foe.”
Among the Five Great Dragon Domains, Vophal and Garoth’s realm had the closest ties.
His duel with the Bronze Dragon Siano had nearly been mutually fatal.
The battle’s savagery still sent shivers through Garoth’s mind.
It was Vophal that sheltered him, bearing pressure from the Raging Tides Dragon Domain, allowing him to stay, recover, and stabilize his legendary tier.
Even after he provoked a demigod this time, Vophal did not turn him away.
What the Silver Dragon King said earlier was simple, but she surely understood that demigods were not to be trifled with; still, this place accepted him and healed his wounds.
Garoth was not ungrateful.
He remembered those favors.
“All right.” The Silver Dragon King nodded, satisfaction in her tone.
“The gates of the Vophal Domain will open to you, Garoth, not because of your promised aid, but because...” She paused, then said, “I believe you will be a worthy ally.”
“As for equivalent exchange.” She waved a hand. “I don’t need that.”
“What I wanted, you have already given.”
Garoth asked, “What is it?”
“Your promise,” the Silver Dragon King said. “That is what I want now.”
She turned, facing the lake, her voice growing distant. “The Vophal Domain appears strong, but it harbors many hidden risks. The metal dragons have enjoyed comfort for too long, and a few of us old ones cannot become immortal; sooner or later there will be an end.”
“If a true crisis arrives...”
She left the sentence unfinished, but the meaning was clear.
Vophal’s prosperity rested on a few veteran dragon kings. If they fall, how long can that structure hold? No one knew.
Whether younger dragons could shoulder the burden was even more uncertain.
“I will remember today’s conversation.” Garoth said. “I will remember the Vophal Domain’s help. Besides...my offspring are growing, my bloodlines have put down roots here. For both emotional and logical reasons, I will not stand aside.”
The Silver Dragon King smiled faintly.
“Yes, your offspring, Gabriel Ignas—his dream is to replace me, to become king of the Vophal Domain, even to rule all dragon domains.”
The red iron dragon was silent a moment.
So the rebellious son publicly proclaimed his ambitions? He really didn’t know how to keep his edge in check, or perhaps lacked guidance.
“Gabriel boasts shamelessly, far too confident.”
He said, “The Vophal Domain should give him more trials.”
Nereus inclined her head slightly and said, “If you want to be a dragon king, you must shoulder the responsibilities. I admire his ambition and hope he can grow before my end.”
Her voice paused and she smiled.
“As for the trials...I have already arranged suitable tests for him. They won’t be easy.”
The red iron dragon grinned and said, “Good. Make them difficult. I believe he will grow stronger through Vophal’s trials. I’ll be watching.”
Then Nereus suddenly turned her head.
She looked directly at Garoth and said, “Sometimes, I truly wish you were a metal dragon.”
The remark came abruptly.
The red iron dragon tilted his head slightly and glanced at her.
But before Garoth could respond, the Silver Dragon King shook her head, negating the thought. “No, if that had been the case, you might not have achieved what you have today.”
“Why do you say that?” Garoth asked.
“Because the life of metal dragons is splintered.”
Her tone was complex. “Old ones like me have experienced too much over the long years and know the world is not gentle. The dragonkind has been pushed to the edges by the currents of the age, so we grow ever stronger, accumulate relentlessly, bear the burden and try to hold up a sky for the entire race.”
She paused, looking at the lake, exhaling softly.
“But the new generation? Most are born and raised in comfort.”
“They know there is danger outside. They know dragonkind’s glory is fading. But that knowledge is only a description in their inherited memory, not a realization carved into their bones.”
“They enjoy the Domain’s protection, yet few truly contemplate what that protection was bought with.”
The dragon kings bear the burdens, while younger dragons live in peaceful years.
This was roughly the status of the metal dragons on Bernardo.
“Comfort erodes willpower.”
The red iron dragon said calmly.
“Yes.” Nereus withdrew her gaze and looked at him again. “Evil dragons grow up in high-risk environments. Their attrition rate is higher than metal dragons, but strong, extraordinary individuals always emerge among them.”
“For example, you.”
“I can feel that sense of urgency in you...as if something chases you from behind, so you must keep moving, never stop.”
“That trait is nearly absent among today’s metal dragons.”
Hearing her words, Garoth felt a strange sensation swell in his chest.
There was an almost faint resignation in Nereus’ tone, a weary indifference in her eyes, as if she’d lost the will to live and was making final arrangements.
This was not the normal state of a dragon.
Of course, Nereus’ state was indeed abnormal.
“I thought of a question.” Garoth said.
“What?”
“What does ‘twilight’ feel like?”
Garoth asked.
Dragon lifespans had limits, but not like most species that die quickly upon reaching theirs. Dragons entering the twilight stage experience a state between life and death.
If one can pass through twilight repeatedly, one can still grow stronger.
One might even break past the lifespan limit and ascend to higher realms.
But few dragons survive twilight; most struggle and sink within it, ultimately perishing. Twilight is an invisible threshold—cross it and you continue onward; fail and it is the end.
Nereus’ expression barely changed, but her eyes narrowed slightly.
The question was direct, even somewhat rude.
Asking a great dragon about twilight and death is like asking an elderly person near death what it feels like—an intensely private, painful experience rarely shared with outsiders.
Yet the Silver Dragon King did not get angry.
She sat on a rock by the lake and patted the space beside her.
The red iron dragon stepped forward and crouched nearby. His huge body resembled a mountain, shielding Nereus beneath his winged scales.
“Twilight feels...” Nereus stared at the lake and spoke slowly.
“It’s like an endless sleep rolling over you—not ordinary tiredness, not something rested sleep can cure, but a weariness rising from the soul, irresistible.”
“Somewhat similar to the onset of sleep, yet entirely different.”
“Sleep restores and strengthens the body; twilight’s drowsiness is the soul telling you, enough, stop, don’t continue.”
“The most unbearable part is that you lose interest in almost everything.”
She continued, her voice growing lower, sounding half like a monologue and half like she was confessing to Garoth.
“You see the morning sun rise and no longer feel uplifted—only that another day has begun. You watch hatchlings practice flight and no longer feel joy, only that they will one day come here to me.”
“Battles that once set your blood ablaze, ambitions that kept you awake nights, treasures that once made your heart soar...”
“Everything becomes tasteless.”
“You just want to lie down and sleep forever.”
“But if you truly sleep, that is eternal death.”
Garoth listened quietly, feeling the terror of twilight. If he could not break immortality at his peak, he too would have to face twilight and endure the same torment and struggle.
“I fight twilight every moment.”
“Every morning I wake is a victory and a new war. I have lost track of how long this battle has gone on, and I do not know how much longer I can hold on.”
“This is the destiny of great dragons.”
The Silver Dragon King spoke softly. “We live too long—so long that even death becomes protracted.”
The lake lay calm like a mirror, reflecting the gray-white sky. A few waterbirds flew in the distance, making sparse calls. The breeze skimmed the surface, raising fine ripples that shattered and reformed those reflections.
Garoth watched the ripples for a few seconds, thinking.
“In my impression, you metal dragons mostly revere the deities. Can’t you ask the dragon gods for blessings? At least...if you cannot endure, after death you might ascend to the divine realm and achieve a different form of immortality.”
The Silver Dragon King gave a light laugh, as if she had heard a naive question.
“We revere dragon gods, Garoth, but reverence is not worship.”
Her tone grew solemn, each word measured. “I will not let my soul return to the divine realm—that is not my choice. I believe other dragon kings feel the same.”
“Why?”
Garoth asked.
She was silent for several breaths, then said lightly, almost offhandedly, “Because the great Bahamut, in a certain sense, is much like the Queen of the Chromatics—unworthy of worship.”
Hearing the Silver Dragon King speak the deity’s true name visibly changed the red iron dragon’s expression.
His pupils constricted, his spikes bristled, the entire body tensed; he looked around instinctively as if ensuring no unseen power watched them.
Garoth came back to himself and cautioned, “Be careful invoking a deity’s true name.”
Nereus watched his reaction and smiled, the fine lines at her eyes easing.
“Don’t worry.”
She said, “The great Bahamut is a stern father. He demands much of the metal dragons—sometimes near harshness. His path is full of justice and sacrifice, yet he can tolerate his children’s discussions and even doubts.”
“Justice and mercy are not mere slogans to him; they are his principles.”
“That is one of his few virtues.”
The red iron dragon was momentarily speechless.
He did not know what to say.
The Silver Dragon King’s words brimmed with disappointment and skepticism toward deities—almost sacrilegious—but her tone remained calm, stating facts as if they were self-evident.
“Since we’re on the topic, Garoth, I will offer some advice.”
“Bahamut and Tiamat appear opposed but are similar.”
“They are both dragon gods who wish to control their children and treat dragons as their property. The difference lies in one packaging desire in justice and glory, the other baring greed and cruelty.”
Maybe because of a hardened resolve or because a twilight dragon had lost reverence, Garoth sensed deep disappointment in her words—a sentiment built not over days but over long years.
He still had unanswered thoughts.
After all, the White Platinum Dragon God is the patron of metal dragons—Bavophal? The protective deity of the Northern Winds? Mercy, strictness, justice—these qualities might exist, but publicly criticizing them could draw divine wrath.
The Platinum Dragon God’s style was the opposite of the Chromatic Queen.
The Chromatic Queen lurked in shadows, scheming in secret and rarely acting openly given her many enemies. The Platinum Dragon God upheld justice and honor but was fierce and unyielding—intolerant of evil.
If he encountered a hated villain, divine wrath might fall from the sky without care for risks to the Material Plane.
He was a deity of bold action and instant judgment.
Nereus rose and brushed dust that wasn’t there from her gown.
“Garoth, I have another suggestion.”
She said.
Garoth collected his thoughts and asked, “What is it?”
The Silver Dragon King said, “Within the metal dragonkind there are differing philosophies and conflicts, but as metal dragons we fight without breaking each other—that you should know.”
Garoth nodded.
If those bonds broke, the very heavens could be pierced—war among metal dragons was no joke; it could split and weaken dragonkind.
“The Raging Tides Dragon Domain is now the Purification Faction’s main base.”
“Their methods are too extreme. The other four great domains will not sit idly by. This is an internal dragon matter; outsiders should neither intervene nor do so lightly.”
Hearing this, Garoth understood her meaning.
He asked frankly, “You want me to avoid the Raging Tides Domain, to steer clear of conflicts with the Purification Faction?”
Nereus bowed her head slightly, then shook it.
“I said it’s a suggestion, not a command.”
“How you decide is your own business.”
Her expression did not change; her tone was still calm.
The red iron dragon did not answer immediately; thoughtfulness showed in his eyes.
“All right, let today’s conversation end here. I have said too much. Too much talk is not good for a twilight old dragon.”
The Silver Dragon King smiled.
“Come, Garoth.”
She said, “Go do what you must. Break the era’s stagnation.”
Garoth said solemnly, “I will tread the Path of Immortality.”
Nereus nodded. “I hope, by then, if I am still alive, I have the chance to witness the birth of an immortal dragon.”
Having said this, she turned.
The deep-blue gown traced an arc, and she walked away in the opposite direction from Garoth. In the blink of an eye, her figure vanished as if she had never been there.
Light shone on the lake, rippling with cold serenity.
Garoth stood by the shore, motionless.
He looked down at his reflection; the image showed his fierce, sharp silhouette, a face plated in scales without expression. Nereus’ words echoed in his mind.
“The collective malice of gods, the tides of the age, dragon gods unworthy of worship.”
...
Garoth now had a clearer sense of his surroundings.
The situation was more perilous than he had imagined.
The gods’ wills, the currents of the age, the fate of his people—all entwined into an invisible net, and he was only a small node within it.
He said nothing. He quietly extended a claw and tore space.
The red iron dragon stepped into the rift; his form vanished from the Vophal Domain, leaving only calming ripples on the lake and a patch of grass bent by his weight on the shore.
Red Emperor Capital, the Dragon Court.
Above the clouds, fierce winds howled.
A massive tear suddenly ripped open in the void, as if the sky itself had been forcibly split by an invisible force.
Garoth leapt out from it, wings unfurled to steady his form, and descended toward the Dragon Court.
Here, at this moment, only he remained.
The Star-Self clones that had once occupied this place were gone.
“When I used Radiant State fighting the Giant King, the Star-Self clones’ consumption became unsustainable, so they dispersed on their own.”
Garoth thought to himself.
The strength of Star-Self clones was undeniable, but they had clear limits: when the host engaged in too ferocious a battle and could not continue supplying sufficient Dragon Qi, the clones would collapse.
He stepped to the Dragon Court’s edge and looked down.
Clouds churned and billowed beneath his feet like a white ocean, shaped by strong winds above. Through gaps in the clouds, the vast lands below were faintly visible—forests rolling across the horizon, rivers winding and reflecting silver-white in the sunlight, scattered towns and ever-expanding grand cities.
The Red Emperor Capital sat at the center like a deep-red gem embedded in the land.
High, thick walls, buildings clustered tightly within, towers rising like a forest. Functional zones were clearly delineated. Dragon silhouettes traversed the sky, casting solemn shadows.
This was his kingdom.
Every step, every scale of ground, built with claws, fang, flame, intelligence, and strength—his kingdom had not been gifted. Every inch was won with blood and fire.
“If I had been born a metal dragon, it would have been hard to reach this height in so short a time.”
Garoth thought.
Not long after, an iron dragon answered the call and rose from the clouds.
Gordon’s wing membranes tore through the mist, leaving a long trace in the air; the airflow around him roared as he drew near. When he recognized Garoth’s appearance, surprise showed clearly on his face.
“You...”
The iron dragon paused, eyes scanning Garoth back and forth, studying the changes carefully.
“Garoth, my dear brother, how did you become like this? How could such a transformation happen so quickly?”
“You look surprised.”
Garoth observed the iron dragon’s reaction and said, “I told you: traveling to Arotala had a purpose. This change was one of my goals.”
The iron dragon’s expression registered doubt, and he blurted out reflexively.
“Oh? Not because you’re greedy—”
He cut himself off mid-sentence, as if clamping down on his tongue.
Under Garoth’s dangerous gaze, the iron dragon quickly shifted expression, pretending nothing untoward had occurred and adopting a sober, serious face.
“It’s good you’ve returned. I have important matters to discuss with you.”
Gordon cleared his throat and steered the topic.
“What matters?”
He walked to the Dragon Court’s rim and stopped beside Garoth, eyes directed toward the Brakton Kingdom’s direction.
“It’s news Rheinhardt sent back.”
He said with a low voice, “About the Lord of Thunder.”
Garoth turned to the iron dragon, signaling him to continue.
“Lamorein...has broken through.”
“Broken through?”
Garoth slightly raised his chin, surprise creasing his features. “From crown-level to Mandate of Heaven?”
“Yes.”
Gordon nodded gravely. “And it wasn’t an ordinary breakthrough.”
“Rheinhardt said his appearance changed massively. His size swelled, scales shifted from bright blue to deep indigo, lightning-like patterns appeared on his wing membranes, and his horns transformed from a single horn to three pairs, symmetrically arranged...”
“Although they have not clashed, Rheinhardt felt a strong danger.”
“He said he would be difficult to match in combat now.”
As he spoke, Gordon produced a recording device.
Light wove through the air, revealing a clear image.
The Lord of Thunder soared amid roiling black clouds, lightning wrapping his body. Each beat of his wings sounded like thunder; three pairs of horns crowned his head.
“Storm Dragon...”
Garoth’s gaze tightened as he stared at the image.
In the age when dragon lords ruled the world, the Storm Dragon stood as ruler of the blue dragon clans, atop all blue dragons. Dragon lore contained detailed records of this ancient form.
Comparable forms included the Flame Abyss Dragon, the White Magic Dragon, and others.
In ancient eras, these great dragons were roughly equal in their average strength, each possessing distinct power.
Gordon, of course, knew what a Storm Dragon signified.
He spoke seriously: “With bloodlines diluted and differentiated, the Storm Dragon had become legend. Lamorein’s short-term breakthrough to Mandate of Heaven and becoming a Storm Dragon...is not something done lightly.”
Garoth narrowed his eyes and ran through the possibilities in his mind.
He analyzed and eliminated them one by one.
All clues pointed in a single direction.
Only one existence in the current world could bestow a complete Storm Dragon bloodline in such a short time.
“Lamorein has bowed to the Dragon Queen.”
“Only the Chromatic Queen can restore a blue dragon to the ancient Storm Dragon form, and such a gift is never free.”
The red iron dragon furrowed the scales on his brow, lost in thought.
“Why would he choose this? With Lamorein’s nature, he shouldn’t submit to the Queen’s will...how could he...”
As he pondered, he formed a vague hypothesis.
“He’s become the Queen’s apostle, spreading her faith and building temples, collecting blood tithes.”
Gordon ground his teeth, showing impatience and worry. “Atlan belongs to Aola, to us. We cannot let the Lord of Thunder run rampant. What he is doing will gradually shake our foundations and nibble away at our territory.”
“Brother, how should we deal with this?”
When it concerned a Mandate-of-Heaven Storm Dragon and the Chromatic Queen behind it, the iron dragon dared not decide alone. This was beyond his authority.
Garoth considered for a moment, the sunlight drifting across the cloudsea as he weighed possible responses.
Then he said, “Our current information is too limited. Observe and wait to see what Lamorein intends and how the Raging Tides Domain reacts.”
“The Bronze Dragon lord will not ignore such developments.”
A Mandate dragon, a Storm Dragon, a chosen apostle—
Garoth knew he could not confidently ensure victory in a confrontation now.
Act rashly and the outcome might be unpredictable.
He might even place himself in grave danger.
Moreover, he understood Lamorein’s temperament; the two did not necessarily have to end up at absolute odds, but if it came to that, it would be a life-or-death clash.
Garoth withdrew his radiance and looked toward the gathering black clouds in the distance.