Translator: AnubisTL
Sun and moon alternated, and the stars shifted in the sky as a relatively short period of time quietly passed.
The Frontierlands remained ruled by endless cold and snow. Goose-feather snowflakes fell without rest, and the relentless howls of the wind never ceased.
Yet, unlike the dead silence of the past, a solemn yet boiling atmosphere now permeated the Ironforged Tribe's strongholds scattered across the Frontierlands.
Countless familiars—mighty ogres, fierce werewolf warriors, agile centaur knights, and the innumerable hyena-men, kobolds, and lizardfolk—all wore tense expressions. Their solemnity was laced with an indescribable excitement, like arrows drawn taut on a bowstring.
They were already fully armed, their cold armor frosted with rime. Heavy weapons were gripped in claws or slung across their backs, their breath forming hurried plumes of white mist in the freezing air.
Like dark currents lurking beneath the snowy plains, they emerged in an orderly fashion from various valleys, plains, and hills. Under the urging of their bosses, they marched through the deep snow, leaving winding trails that were immediately covered by the fresh snowfall.
Finally.
The trickles merged into a raging river, transforming into several massive, winding dragons across the vast, snow-covered land.
Their objective was crystal clear.
It was the Sierre Wilderness, located south of the Frontierlands—a land now plunged into chaos and war, yet brimming with endless opportunity.
During Garos's long slumber, the Ironforged Tribe had acted like a giant beast retracting its claws and fangs, dozing in repose. Strictly obeying the Lord of the Crimson Wings' orders, they had deliberately concealed their strength and refrained from any large-scale external expansion or conquest.
However, to temper the monstrous nature's inherent violence and bellicosity, and also to maintain their combat effectiveness, the training and brutal gladiatorial bouts within the tribe became more frequent and intense.
Day after day, the familiars honed themselves in the ice and snow, tempering their skills.
As time passed, their claws and fangs grew razor-sharp, and their fighting spirit, like iron repeatedly hammered on an anvil, became ever more resilient.
They awaited only the command.
And they would burst forth from the Frontierlands to fight and kill in a wider world.
Thus, at the Lord of the Crimson Wings' command, the elite familiars of the Ironforged Tribe stationed in the Frontierlands were mobilized with breathtaking efficiency. They formed legions of monsters—disciplined, bloodthirsty, and unstoppable—surging forward like a broken dam into the wilderness.
Yet the bitter Frontierlands were not completely abandoned.
The region still held untapped veins of rare ore, vast black oilfields, and the Black Iron Plains, where the foundations of an alchemy industry had already been laid. These precious resources and strategic strongholds were the very bedrock of the Ironforged Tribe's future, too vital to be forsaken.
Therefore, the core leadership remained.
The cold-loving Adult White Dragon Tracy, all the young dragons who had not yet reached their juvenile stage, the three sworn wild monster lords, Grand Artificer Scott, Serpentfolk Blademaster Naris, Centaur Elvie...
These stalwarts, along with a portion of the elite legions, were ordered to hold the Frontierlands. They would guard the ancestral cradle of the dragon pack's rise—their snow-covered homeland.
High in the heavens, where the blizzard raged most fiercely, Garos's colossal form circled slowly beneath the leaden clouds. With every powerful beat of his wings, the swirling snow was whipped into a frenzy.
The red-silver dragon Deborah soared beside him, her elegant scales shimmering with a faint, enduring brilliance.
"Deborah, have you heard from your parents recently? Do they have any idea when they might return to the Frontierlands?" Garos asked, his voice steady and piercing through the howling wind and snow.
The red-silver dragon turned her head slightly, her slender neck tracing a graceful arc.
"My father sent a single, covert message," she replied. "He simply warned me that the world is in turmoil and that I should not leave the relative safety of the Frontierlands."
"But he mentioned nothing about when they would return."
She paused, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "It seems all adult metallic dragons are participating in a crucial collective ritual, attempting to sustain the Gold Dragon King's life. However, the ceremony was interrupted by the End of Winter, and the ritual was undoubtedly compromised."
"No one can say for sure how much longer it will take to complete, or if it will even succeed."
The Gold Dragon King she spoke of was none other than that mighty being—the twenty-four-winged golden dragon.
Within the highly unified Metallic Dragon Clan, five supreme dragon king leaders were jointly elected based on their dragon subspecies, strength, and noble character.
The Gold Dragon King, the Silver Dragon King, the Bronze Dragon King, the Copper Dragon King, and the Brass Dragon King.
Without exception, they were all ancient dragons who had lived for over a thousand years, possessing unfathomable power. Even among the ancient dragons, these five dragon kings were unquestionable top-tier existences.
The most powerful and prestigious among them was undoubtedly the Gold Dragon King.
At this point, Deborah's emotions clearly became a bit annoyed and bewildered.
"End of Winter... Why did this white dragon suddenly attack the Dragon Realm?"
"Doesn't she understand that even if the metallic dragons and chromatic dragons are on opposing sides and often clash, they are still ultimately part of the dragon race? If the Gold Dragon King were to fall, the overall strength and deterrent power of the entire dragon race would suffer immeasurable weakening."
An ordinary white dragon might have a simple mind and not consider things on this level.
But an ancient dragon that had lived for over a thousand years, even a white dragon known for its foolishness, must possess profound wisdom and foresight.
Moreover.
Aside from a few extremely chaotic evil individuals, dragons that reach the ancient level generally possess reason beyond instinct and long-term foresight, allowing them to well control their desires and impulses.
Deborah simply couldn't understand it.
What could possibly be the motive for Winter's End Heatherfield to attack the Dragon Realm?
There were no rumors suggesting an irreconcilable, deep-seated grudge between her and the Gold Dragon King.
"Perhaps she was maliciously incited by some entity, or perhaps there are deeper reasons or deals involved that far exceed our current understanding," Garos pondered calmly. "In any case, if the description of 'Winter's End' in the dragon heritage is fundamentally accurate, then she absolutely could not have attacked the Dragon Realm on a mere whim."
"Behind this, there must be a reason we have yet to discover, but one of sufficient weight."
In the records of the inheritance, Winter's End was described as—patient and cunning, extremely adept at playing with and manipulating emotions.
Patient and cunning. Garos thought this description might hold some truth. After all, these traits weren't inherently negative; in survival and conflict, they were even advantages.
But regarding the claim that End of Winter was extremely adept at manipulating and controlling emotions, Garos harbored a deep-seated, rational skepticism.
The dragon heritage was indeed a treasure trove of knowledge.
Yet it was also riddled with biases, distorted perspectives born of factional strife, and deeply ingrained subjective opinions. Much of its record could not be taken at face value; it had to be scrutinized and judged through one's own reason.
Consider the events recorded in the heritage concerning End of Winter's entanglement with the human spellcaster.
If the protagonist of the story, End of Winter, were replaced with a metallic dragon—a silver or gold dragon, for instance—then her experiences with that human spellcaster would likely be celebrated as a romantic and poignant love story that transcended racial boundaries, rather than being interpreted as a dark, calculated plot full of conspiracy and trickery.
"Regardless, I hope the Gold Dragon King can successfully overcome this Tribulation of Twilight and be reborn," the red-silver dragon prayed softly.
If the Gold Dragon King could successfully cross this greatest of thresholds, the Metallic Dragon Clan would gain a pillar of stability and strength—a true Dinghai Shenzhen. Their voice and status across the entire Bernardo Planet would be elevated to a new level. Furthermore, the overall rise in the dragon race's standing would, to some extent, improve the living environment for all dragonkind, including the chromatic dragons.
TL/N: Dinghai Shenzhen (定海神针) is a Chinese mythological term meaning "the divine pillar that stabilizes the sea." It originally refers to the magical pillar associated with Sun Wukong in Journey to the West, but figuratively it means a powerful stabilizing force, cornerstone, or pillar of support.
But...
Across all known planes and worlds, those who successfully crossed the Ancient Dragon's Tribulation of Twilight to achieve rebirth were, in the end, a tiny minority of a minority.
(End of the Chapter)
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