The Atlan Continent, Sel Wilderness.
A black-feathered, red-beaked hawk soared through the sky, passing through lush mountain forests and over clear green lakes. Across the boundless wilderness, it eventually slowed down and landed on a craggy cliff, preening its feathers while looking down.
Below was a massive circular crater, appearing as if it had been struck by a meteorite. The center contained forests and rivers, surrounded on all sides by steep, rising cliffs.
The hawk tilted its head, its eyes filled with confusion. Reflected in its vision was a creature at the bottom of the crater, exerting all its strength to throw its flesh-and-blood body against the rock.
The creature was about six meters long from head to tail, with scales and horns, wings, and a long tail. It was clearly a young dragon, though its appearance was unusual—not like any common species.
Its skull resembled a Red Dragon's, featuring the swept-back horns characteristic of the breed. However, the base of the horns was encased in shovel-shaped metallic bone, forming a ridged structure similar to a knight's helmet.
The dragon's scales were layered, with a black base that shimmered with silver flashes. The surface bore faint patterns, giving off a dark red luster like lava flowing over an iron plate. The edges of the scales were as sharp as blades, reflecting a cold, obsidian-like light as the dragon breathed. The overall texture was intensely metallic.
Though only a hatchling, it already possessed a ferocity and power far beyond ordinary beasts. Its limbs, tail, and wings were all exceptionally robust.
BOOM!
Garlos—whose wings were much broader and thicker than a typical young dragon's—flapped them to accelerate and slammed headfirst into the base of the cliff. Rock fragments flew, and dust filled the air.
He shook his head, pulling his snout and forebody out of the rock. Garlos rattled his scales to shake off the pebbles stuck in the gaps and the dust on the surface. He stopped the "mountain-bashing" behavior that had so confused the hawk and leaned against the large hole he had created to rest.
"It's already been six years since I became a dragon," Garlos sighed inwardly. He looked down at his claws, opening and closing them repeatedly.
He—or rather, "it"—was not a normal dragon. First of all, he was a hybrid of a Red Dragon and an Iron Dragon, as evidenced by his unique appearance. While Red-Iron hybrids are rare, they are within the realm of possibility. Both Red and Iron Dragons are paragons among evil dragons, both worshiping power and strength. One is the head of the Chromatic Dragons, the other the head of the Ferrous Dragons.
While these two species are usually bitter rivals who fight on sight, it isn't impossible for two such power-hungry "evil dragons" to unexpectedly hit it off during a fight, leading to a passionate encounter.
What was truly abnormal, however, was that within this Red-Iron hatchling resided a human soul from another world.
Indeed, Garlos was a "transmigrator."
He couldn't figure out why he had crossed over and didn't care to overthink it; it was meaningless. Besides, a dragon's body was far more powerful than a human's. Having gained a new life, Garlos had long since accepted the reality of being a dragon.
After six years of living as a dragon and the influence of the "Dragon's Inheritance," his human soul and draconic nature had merged. They had formed a personality dominated by draconic instincts—a love for power and strength—tempered by human logic and wisdom. He possessed the tenacity and might of a dragon without the excessive arrogance or the pathological obsession with wealth.
In short: Keep the best, discard the dregs.
Lifting a claw, Garlos carefully felt his head, which had been slamming against the mountain for quite some time. The fine scales on the "helmet" and the horns on top felt even more solid to the touch.
"It's not obvious, but my body has definitely gotten a bit stronger."
The young dragon nodded with satisfaction. His tail, lined with blade-like scales, swung back and forth, carving dense scratches into the ground.
Over the past six years, Garlos had been constantly researching his own draconic body. Aside from the supernatural traits inherent to dragons, he discovered to his surprise that the combination of his Red-Iron bloodline and human soul had triggered a mysterious reaction. It gave him a talent he was born with that other dragons lacked:
——Adaptive Evolution.
This talent wasn't obvious at first. Its initial effects were so microscopic that Garlos didn't even realize he had it until he was two years old. Even now, its power was limited. It required day-after-day of repetitive training and "grinding" to trigger a single effective evolution. Furthermore, the magnitude of the evolution wasn't huge and required a corresponding intake of food to replenish energy.
Years of effort had only made Garlos's physique significantly stronger and tougher than a normal hatchling's, giving his scales their current metallic texture.
But.
As Garlos used it—and as he aged—the talent itself was growing and evolving. Each year's effect was better than the last, and its upper limit was currently unknown.
As everyone knows, any "evolutionary" talent is extremely "broken" (OP). Garlos was full of anticipation for his future.
"With the longevity of the dragon race and the trait of growing stronger with age, combined with my Adaptive Evolution talent... one day, I will evolve to an unimaginable level of power."
Garlos thought happily. He turned to look at the massive mountain again. The sturdy young dragon spread his four limbs, created some distance, and then charged once more, crashing into the rock. Dust flew, and stones shattered.
A beautiful future was just a dream for now. For the present... better keep "bashing the mountain."
This was one of Garlos's daily training methods. Others included, but were not limited to: flying high into the sky and free-falling, jumping into fires to burn himself, letting a "Steel Dragon Mother" lash him with her tail, or holding his breath underwater until he nearly drowned.
Time passed slowly. The sun gradually dipped westward, sinking into the embrace of the distant mountains.
Night fell, draped in countless stars. Two moons—one full and one crescent—emitted a cold moonlight, preventing the world from becoming completely dark.
After finishing his "mountain-bashing," Garlos left the site of a noticeably collapsed and sunken cave entrance. There were many, many such holes in the surrounding area—all Garlos's handiwork.
By the side of a lake as clear as a mirror, Garlos's arrival startled away a large number of birds and beasts. He didn't mind, drinking great gulps of water before looking up at the twin moons.
Of these two moons, one had phases that changed with the time of month. The other, however, remained a perfectly round "fake moon" that never changed. That "fake moon" was actually an Extra-terrestrial Magic Fortress constructed by the Elven Empire, [Lucial].
Besides that fake moon, there were many other twinkling stars that looked like any other star but were actually various "satellites" created by various empires through magical means.