Translator: AnubisTL
Alberto's bloodshot vertical pupils locked onto Garos, his massive dragon wings slightly raised.
With a faint shimmer of light from an alchemy item, one giant chest after another—crafted from heavy solid wood and reinforced with metal bands along the edges—materialized out of thin air. They crashed down heavily onto the rocky cliffside where he stood, striking the stone with dull thuds and kicking up clouds of dust.
"This is thirty percent of the original debt and interest," Alberto said, his voice laced with pain.
The red-iron dragon swept his gaze calmly over the chests and gave a slight nod.
Almost as soon as he nodded, a flock of well-trained wyverns of various sizes soared from the shadows of the Burning Steel Citadel. They seized the heavy wooden chests one by one, swiftly carrying them away from the cliff.
"These already belonged to me," the red-iron dragon said. "Whether you challenge me or not, they would have been returned sooner or later. They cannot be considered stakes for this challenge."
"I know," Alberto replied. "I'm just paying back a portion of it first."
He exhaled slowly, then spoke in a low, heavy voice.
"If I lose, I will owe you an additional amount equal to my entire original debt."
"But if I win, it will prove I have become stronger than you. Undisputably stronger. That I have completely surpassed you."
The red-iron dragon's thick, scale-covered neck swayed slightly, producing a faint metallic rasp.
Indeed.
It had been some time since he'd had a chance to stretch his limbs and enjoy a truly fierce battle.
Still, seeing Alberto's desperate expression, Garos didn't mind indulging him with a few more words.
"Alberto, you seem very eager to win this fight."
He shook his head. "In my eyes, your chances of victory are slim."
"If you lose, it will be even harder for you to clear your debts."
"Are you sure you still want to challenge me?"
The Gold Dragon Alberto, his massive head covered in golden scales, gave a single, heavy nod.
No hesitation.
No doubt.
It was as if he had already cast all consequences to the wind.
In truth, Alberto's decision to challenge the Ironforged King, the terror of the Frontierlands, even at the risk of deepening his debts, did not stem from ordinary competitiveness.
The root cause lay in an Iron Vow he had sworn five years ago, in a fit of youthful arrogance and impulsiveness—a vow so severe it bordered on self-torture.
Until he truly defeated and completely surpassed the Red Iron Dragon Garos, he, Alberto, would renounce all forms of entertainment and leisure. He would devote himself, without reservation, to pushing and honing his own limits.
For the first two years, the Vow's constraints and pressure drove him forward. Day after day, night after night, Alberto squeezed every ounce of potential from his body. He reveled in the fulfillment that came from this extreme training, his heart brimming with soaring fighting spirit and an unwavering belief in victory. It seemed as if surpassing Garos was just around the corner.
However.
As time flowed mercilessly into the third year, his passion began to wane.
A profound exhaustion, like creeping vines, silently entwined itself around his mind and body.
He began to long for even the slightest respite for his frayed nerves—even if it were just a brief moment to gaze up at the starry sky, or to bask lazily in the sun.
But.
Because he had made his vow too absolute, too ruthless, in order to steel his resolve, not only were leisure and relaxation out of the question—even the most basic, sufficient rest had become a luxury, a desperate hope.
The Holy Dragon's proud regenerative abilities had now become a curse.
Every time he pushed himself to the point of utter exhaustion, collapsing like mud on the ground, it wouldn't be long before that vow would ignite into an invisible flame. It would sear his back, forcing him to scramble to his feet and throw himself back into the grind.
What tormented him even more was that his grand ambition, his dream of shaping the perfect Golden Law, and all his magnificent blueprints for the future could now only be thought through and constructed in the fleeting, pitifully brief intervals of rest—squeezed out like toothpaste under the vow's relentless pressure.
The entire dragon was like a top spun by an invisible whip, never granted a moment's respite.
Five years. A full five years!
He was so consumed by his toil that he began to question the very meaning of a dragon's life. Even his own paranoid nature had been worn down, its edges dulled by this endless, ceaseless grinding.
Finally—
He had endured until this day, five years later.
Alberto could no longer restrain himself. A voice deep within his soul was roaring:
After five years of this hellish, limit-breaking training...
The potential of the noble gold dragon bloodline flowing through his veins had been squeezed and unleashed to its absolute limit.
He had grown immensely since five years ago.
With his potential, his innate talent, and his ceaseless efforts over these five years... he might not be any weaker than the red-iron dragon now.
"I have made my decision!"
Alberto's voice rang out, resolute and unwavering. "Garos, accept my challenge."
As the words fell, Alberto's sharp front claws, covered in thick golden scales, sliced through the hard rock of the canyon cliff like a hot knife through butter, carving several bottomless furrows.
His powerful limbs coiled tight, muscles bunching and bulging like adamantine cables.
His massive, heavy dragon body lowered slightly, like a golden greatbow drawn to its limit.
The entire dragon was now poised for attack, an arrow notched on the string, ready to strike like a thunderbolt.
"Then come, Challenger."
Garos's voice remained calm as he declared the challenge begun.
Whoosh—!
The Red-Iron Dragon's towering wings, vast enough to blot out the sun, snapped open in a sudden, powerful motion.
With a single, seemingly effortless beat, a fierce gale erupted from nowhere.
Then, he transformed into a crimson meteor, tearing through the sky. Without any flourish, he soared straight up, piercing the boundless, distant heavens.
I must win, Gold Dragon Alberto roared inwardly.
Voom—!
Voom—!
Two bursts of sacred, majestic light flared to life.
A crown symbolizing authority, flowing with brilliant golden light, materialized upon his raised head. Simultaneously, the Sacred Oath halberd—a weapon representing the will to conquer, inscribed with ancient vows—shone with a blinding radiance as it coalesced from pure energy, gripped firmly in his massive dragon claw.
Now fully armed, the young gold dragon was bathed in divine brilliance.
His own colossal golden wings beat with all their might, and he became a golden lightning bolt tearing through the sky, following close behind as he charged into the churning, boundless heavens.
Meanwhile...
Aside from Red-Silver Dragon Deborah, who remained perched on the edge of the Burning Steel Citadel's fourth-level observation deck, her slender dragon claw elegantly resting above her brow as she watched the scene unfold like a play...
Down on the training grounds below...
White Dragon Treacy had already paused her "instruction" of the two juvenile dragons.
Now, she watched with keen interest—alongside Black Dragon Seraphina, who had just scrambled to her feet, and Green Dragon Ludwig, who was lost in thought—as they all focused on the two figures about to collide high in the sky.
The gold dragon's ecological niche is indeed high within the mainstream dragon lineage, Treacy analyzed calmly in her mind. In the eyes of other races, and even before most chromatic and metallic dragons, they naturally appear majestic, divine, and noble.
But—
A silent sneer echoed in her heart.
—he still chooses to challenge Garos, a red-iron dragon whose ecological niche is fundamentally higher than his own.
A lower-tier challenging an upper-tier... the only outcome will be another crushing defeat and humiliation.
She didn't need to see the fight to foresee the result.
"Hmph, an arrogant gold dragon who doesn't know his place," Ludwig sneered, his slender, emerald-green tail flicking in contempt. "The great Ironforged King will soon beat him to his knees," he added in a low voice.
Beside him, Seraphina, who had just struggled to her feet, nodded silently in agreement.
(End of the Chapter)
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