Iron Dragon Sorog suddenly opened his eyes, his pupils constricting into two thin lines in the curtain of rain, his heart filled with solemnity.
Alya—this was not the first time he had heard this name.
According to the intelligence gathered by the tribe, this existence known as the [Messenger of Good Fortune] had once briefly appeared in Ximu Territory and attempted to proselytize. After the lord at the time, Charles Hines, explicitly told her that Ximu Territory did not welcome the spread of any faith, she had departed calmly and had not been heard from since, as if she had never appeared at all.
He never expected to hear this name again at this time, in this place, and in this manner.
More importantly, judging from the Domain characteristics displayed by the invisible barrier before him and the telepathic message that rang directly in his heart, this Alya was very likely a Legendary, and possibly a God-Favored protected by a deity—a big shot that the current Molten Iron Tribe could not afford to provoke.
"Greetings, Your Excellency Alya."
"I am Solrog, the Iron King of the Molten Iron Tribe."
Facing a Legendary, the Iron Dragon responded in a deep voice, stating his identity while maintaining sufficient etiquette and restraint.
He paused slightly, organizing his words, and continued, "Regarding the item in Your Excellency's hand, our Molten Iron Tribe has invested a great deal of time and effort to track it down, sacrificing many loyal subordinates."
The Messenger of Good Fortune, Alya, nodded gently, her expression remaining calm.
"I know."
Her voice rang directly in his heart, saying, "It was precisely by following the tracks and traces left by your exploration team that I was able to locate this place so easily."
She offered a simple explanation.
In truth, after leaving Ximu Territory, this Messenger of Good Fortune had been wandering aimlessly through the wilderness.
A chance stop had led her to notice the outpost established by the Molten Iron Tribe in the abandoned mine.
Ordinary people might not have cared about a stronghold commonly found in the wilderness.
But the Messenger of Good Fortune was different.
Just as her title proclaimed, her luck had always been outrageously good, even earning her the favor of the Goddess of Luck and making her a rare God-Favored.
Since then, her luck had become even more incredible.
No matter where she went, opportunities and treasures would always appear before her as if drawn by a magnet.
When she saw that mine outpost, some unspeakable intuition told her that this was no meaningless encounter.
Perhaps, beneath that bottomless mine, something extraordinary was hidden.
With such a premonition, she displayed astonishing patience, lurking and observing in secret for a long time, and finally beat everyone to it by arriving in this long-sealed underground hall.
Solrog suppressed the turmoil in his heart and asked tentatively, "In that case, Your Excellency Alya, could we ask you to return this item? We are willing to pay another price as a reward for you retrieving it for us."
He knew the hope was slim, but he still wanted to strive for a sliver of possibility.
The Messenger of Good Fortune slowly shook her head.
"The Molten Iron Tribe... I have looked into you."
"I know you are not those Chaotic Evil types who are completely impossible to communicate with and only know destruction and plunder, so I am willing to say a few more words to you."
Her gaze lowered, falling upon the white sphere of light floating in her palm.
"It is named [valhalla]."
She said, "valhalla is a Legendary creation that the Great Masters of smithing among the Grey Dwarves poured their heart and Soul into, modeled after the famous [Heroic Domain] plane."
"It is a world unto itself, possessing an independent demiplane space capable of absorbing and housing the Souls of deceased creatures, allowing them to exist within it as Heroic Spirits and be summoned to the Material Plane for battle."
Heroic Domain... Solrog knew of this plane.
It was a very special one among the many planes. The Souls of warriors, ambitious leaders, and wise kings with heroic qualities from countless worlds had a chance to be drawn to that plane after death, transforming into immortal Heroic Spirits to endure forever in eternal glory and battle.
"However, valhalla is far from being as sacred as its prototype; it is also an extremely dangerous thing."
Alya said seriously, "Its creation and loss of control directly led to the fall of Marnes Dungeon. Countless Grey Dwarves perished in that disaster, and only a tiny fraction of their Souls were absorbed into it to become Heroic Spirits."
"These Heroic Spirits are, in a sense, eternal prisoners."
"The holder of valhalla can drive and control them at will, showing mercy or inflicting torture."
Her gaze lifted again, as if she could pierce through layers of rock to see the Iron Dragon above the mine: "Imagine if this item fell into the hands of some ambitious, unscrupulous conspirator or evil god worshiper. The wave of disaster it could unleash might plunge all living beings into misery and make the earth weep blood."
At this point, her tone became extremely serious.
"I know that you have put in effort and made sacrifices to find it and explore this dangerous path leading to it."
"I am not blind to these efforts."
"But out of consideration for the potential risks, it is a more appropriate choice for valhalla to be kept by me for now."
Hearing this, the Iron Dragon fell into a brief silence, with only the fine sound of rain hitting his scales constant in his ears.
Undoubtedly, valhalla was an incredibly powerful Legendary item.
If nothing else, if they could master it, the Lord of Flowers who had fallen in the previous battle to suppress the Mad King might have been resurrected in the form of a Heroic Spirit, and the tribe's subordinates would become even more fearless of death, as death would no longer be the end.
But the reality was that valhalla was held in the hands of this Messenger of Good Fortune.
He could not take it back.
Even if Garros in his prime were to arrive in person, he might not necessarily succeed, let alone now when Garros was heavily injured and in Dragon Slumber, leaving the Molten Iron Tribe leaderless.
This Messenger of Good Fortune's luck was indeed good, appearing at this point in time to easily take away a Legendary item.
"You seem... a bit angry."
The Messenger of Good Fortune's voice remained peaceful as she said, "I understand your feelings, and I realize that your interests have indeed been damaged by my actions."
"However, I am sorry."
"For the reasons I just stated, I cannot give valhalla to you."
"Moreover, I haven't been entirely without gesture; I have already compensated your losses to a certain extent."
The Iron Dragon's heart stirred as he asked, "What compensation?"
The corners of Alya's mouth curled up, revealing a faint smile: "During this period, haven't you felt that your luck has been exceptionally good?"
"After I noticed you and decided to take this item, I bestowed the blessing of luck upon your tribe."
"This blessing has allowed your desires to come true, letting many seemingly coincidental strokes of good luck converge around you."
Such a thing happened?
Solrog was slightly stunned, then carefully recalled the tribe's recent experiences.
It seemed... their luck really had been quite good.
The Holy Spirit Deer and the Beholder had both been severely injured, and the Phoenix had also arrived at the same time, only for the tribe to benefit from the situation and wipe them all out in one fell swoop.
Then there was the Crimson Iron Giant Dragon Gorthax, that chaotic and insane Mad King, his father.
The trap Solrog had planned, the rumors spread using the Frenzied Flame as bait... deep down, he hadn't actually held very high expectations.
For one, information took time to travel, and the wilderness was so vast that whether the news could even reach Gorthax's ears was an unknown.
Secondly, with Gorthax's unpredictable way of thinking and acting, whether he would be interested in this bait or follow the trail was filled with massive uncertainty.
Solrog's original estimate was that this would be a long game of fishing.
However, the reality was that Gorthax had been drawn in with unimaginable speed, biting the bait directly and crashing headlong into the trap. During the suppression, only one Lord had died, and that was under the premise that everyone's intelligence had been lowered by Fury.
This perfectly timed good luck did seem quite unusual now that he thought about it.
The Iron Dragon took a deep breath of the cold air mixed with the scent of rain and earth, forcibly suppressing the chaotic thoughts and that trace of unwillingness in his heart, letting reason take the upper hand.
"Thank you for informing me. Recalling it now, I have indeed felt the power of that blessing."
The Iron Dragon's voice regained its steadiness, and he said open-mindedly, "You are right. valhalla is too dangerous and is indeed not something our Molten Iron Tribe can currently control."
"Having it kept by a powerful existence like you is undoubtedly more secure and safe."
This answer clearly exceeded the Messenger of Good Fortune's expectations.
A flash of surprise crossed her eyes.
In her view, she had already apologized and given compensation that wasn't meager.
If the other party had been ungrateful and attempted to seize it or showed malice, she would have had a reason to strike and punish, or even kill them. She hadn't expected this Iron Dragon to be able to accept reality so calmly and even express understanding.
"Very well."
The smile on Alya's face grew a bit more genuine, and her voice softened slightly.
"I sincerely enjoy communicating with intelligent beings like you, Iron King Solrog. Since you can understand and agree with my methods and stance, then, I wish you good luck."
She nodded slightly and said, "I think it is time for me to leave."
Iron Dragon Sorog spoke up to urge her to stay, saying enthusiastically, "Your Excellency Alya, why such a hurry? If you don't have any particularly urgent matters, why not move to Ximu Territory to rest for a while?"
"I will host a banquet with the highest etiquette to welcome your arrival."
The Messenger of Good Fortune shook her head slightly, declining the invitation.
"No, I have already lingered in the wilderness for long enough."
She had other identities and responsibilities, requiring her to return to the Church to handle some affairs; the valhalla she had just obtained also needed a safe and suitable place to be sealed away.
"Your manner of speech and conduct makes me feel respect from the bottom of my heart."
At the edge of the pit, the Iron Dragon grinned slightly, revealing fangs that shimmered with a cold light, and said, "This has changed my past biased views toward certain gods and their believers, making me curious."
"If—and I mean if—I wanted to listen more deeply to the teachings of the Goddess of Luck, where should I go to find you in the future?"
Proselytizing was one of the basic duties of a God-Favored, and he had accurately grasped this point.
As expected, Messenger of Good Fortune Alya nodded with a smile and responded, "In the south, whether it be Lothern or Rebos, you can find a temple of the Goddess of Luck in any major city of any human kingdom."
"The temple will never shut its doors to anyone who holds sincerity in their heart and wishes to hear the Goddess's teachings."
The Iron Dragon went a step further, his tone sincere: "However, unfamiliar environments always make me uneasy."
"As you know, not everyone possesses noble character like yours. I am often subject to misunderstanding and prejudice. I would much prefer to have a trustworthy guide like you to answer the doubts in my heart."
Alya understood his subtext. She toyed with the gradually shrinking orb of light in her hand and gave a meaningful smile.
"Then... that will depend on whether your luck is good enough."
As her voice fell, the sphere of light that was valhalla completely vanished from her palm, stored away somewhere unknown.
"Good luck to you. I look forward to our next meeting."
Leaving behind one last blessing, Alya's figure vanished into thin air.
None of the Molten Iron Kin present, including the perceptively sharp Russell, could detect how she had left or where she had gone.
"Russell."
The Iron Dragon's voice rang out again in the werewolf's heart, devoid of any discernible emotion: "Take men inside and search the hall thoroughly. Do not let anything of value escape you."
"Yes!"
The werewolf took the order and immediately led the kin into the hall.
On the other side, the drizzle continued to fall pitter-patter, hitting Iron Dragon Sorog's hard scales coldly and splashing into tiny water droplets.
Supposing the Messenger of Good Fortune's so-called compensation was real and not just empty words, even so, compared to the true value of a Legendary item, it was simply negligible.
The Molten Iron Tribe's previous development strategy had always been steady and cautious. Even without that so-called good luck, those local kings would have been defeated and annexed by the tribe one by one sooner or later.
As for the Red Dragon Gorthax.
He was certainly powerful, but his chaotic and mad mind was his greatest weakness. Even without the Frenzied Flame to attract him, other ways to deal with him could always be found.
Lucky blessing?
Bullshit!
The Iron Dragon sneered inwardly at this. A suppressed Fury burned silently in his chest; he wanted to smash her temple directly and wring the Messenger of Good Fortune's head off.
But, facing a Legendary powerhouse who was willing to talk reason calmly and had even apologized, what else could he do?
Was he to engage in impotent Fury like a Young Dragon and lead the tribe in a suicidal charge?
No, he chose to suppress all his anger, burying it deep in his heart, and took a deep mental note of today's events.
Since unifying The Borderlands, the Molten Iron Tribe had not experienced such a complete concession for a long time. The triumphant progress since returning to the wilderness had almost made him forget the taste of being forced to back down.
Tasting it again now, it had a unique flavor.
"If Garros were here, facing a powerful enemy that is difficult to withstand, he would likely have made the same choice as I did."
"Endure for now, silently accumulate strength until claws and teeth are sharper than the enemy's, then wait for an opportunity to act and reclaim everything with interest."
"Of course, that refers to the old him."
"Now, influenced by the Frenzied Flame, a mentally furious Garros might be like the White Dragon, desperately risking his life against the Messenger of Good Fortune... that would certainly not be a wise move."
He thought calmly.
After engraving Messenger of Good Fortune Alya's appearance, voice, aura, and every detail deep into his heart, Iron Dragon Sorog did not stay any longer. He suddenly beat his wings and soared into the sky against the dense curtain of rain, carrying a body of cold dampness and gloom as he flew straight toward the Quenching Highlands.
Time flowed like water, and days alternated with nights.
The Molten Iron Tribe temporarily halted its outward expansion and instead focused on digesting its acquired territories. In the northwestern region of the wilderness, its Foundation of rule became increasingly solid and deep.
The Borderlands, Dragon Valley, remained a world sealed in ice and wrapped in snow.
One day, the gale and blizzard were particularly violent, as if they were about to submerge the entire valley.
Amidst this howling wind and snow, the Crimson Iron Giant Dragon, resting and sleeping in the deepest part of Burning Steel Fortress, slowly opened his giant eyes.
"Roar—!"
A low dragon roar emanated from within the fortress, piercing through the barrier of wind and snow to echo in the valley.
Garros stretched his massive body, which had become somewhat stiff from the long sleep. Accompanied by a series of dense clicking sounds, countless old, aged scales shook off, revealing new dragon scales underneath that were thicker, harder, and shimmering with a dull metallic luster.
His body had clearly expanded a size compared to before his sleep, and the contours of his muscles bulged and rippled under the heavy scales, filled with an explosive sense of power.
The Dragon Might he emitted also became more solid and oppressive.
"That battle with Gorthax, though tragic, brought real and tangible benefits."
Garros felt the power surging through his body and cast a Detection Spell on himself.
Life Level: 18.
Thanks to that life-and-death struggle where he disregarded everything due to Fury, as well as the massive amount of resources continuously offered by the tribe, he had autonomously achieved a Breakthrough in the Life Level Bottleneck while not in the Dragon Slumber state.
For a dragon with a long growth cycle, this was a very rare occurrence.
At the same time, his Martial Level had naturally risen to Level 11, and his control and application of his own power had reached a higher level.
Garros raised his massive right front claw and slowly extended a single hooked toe, his concentration highly focused.
Ssh.
A wisp of condensed Dragon Qi emerged from the tip of the hooked toe.
But unlike the scorching sensation of the past, this wisp of Dragon Qi carried a cold, deathly stillness.
This meant that Garros had officially stepped onto the path of the Eternal Death Dragon and begun to master the powers associated with it.
Furthermore, he naturally comprehended his first Eternal Death Path skill.
Life Drain—forcibly extract a portion of life essence from creatures within a certain range to restore his own injuries and vitality.
Garros happened to be lacking recovery skills.
For him, this was like a charcoal fire in the snow, making up for one of his shortcomings.
As the Eternal Death Path level increased, there would be other powerful skills waiting to be obtained. These skills, combined with the super dragon body he had evolved, made him increasingly powerful.
Since there were no other living creatures around at the moment, Garros temporarily extinguished the thought of testing the new skill's effects on the spot.
He instead turned his attention to the depths of his mind.
That cluster of invisible flame representing the Frenzied Flame was still burning quietly in his consciousness, silently accumulating Fury points, though the speed was somewhat slower than before as Garros adapted over this period.
"To completely adapt to or even control this Frenzied Flame is likely not something that can be completed in a short time."
Far from feeling frustrated, Garros was eager to try.
"Good! Let it serve as the best whetstone. In my confrontation with it, my Mental Resistance is improving every moment. By the day I can truly harness it, I'm afraid most mental attacks will be completely ineffective against me."
Time was always on the side of the dragon, and he gladly accepted this long and dangerous challenge.