Translator: AnubisTL
The arena was surrounded by tiered, circular steps, with a blood-red barrier hovering a hundred meters above the ground.
"To create such an independent space and forcibly pull me in..."
"This is truly a powerful alchemy item."
Within the crimson barrier, a faint outline of a stone slab could be seen—the core of the gladiator formation plate.
Garos suddenly reared his head, opened his dragon maw, and unleashed a torrent of molten, flaming dragon breath directly at the barrier's core, attempting to shatter the formation plate and break free from this space.
However, the blood-red barrier, though visibly dented and rippling under the impact of the flaming dragon breath, remained intact. It was like striking cotton with a heavy blow—it absorbed the force without tearing or breaking.
Garos sensed that if he persisted with his dragon breath, he could eventually melt the barrier, damage the formation plate, and shatter this space.
But the problem was that he wasn't the only dragon in the arena. Across from him stood the dragon hunters, their eyes gleaming with predatory intent.
The dragon hunters didn't directly attack Garos, even allowing him to attempt to breach the barrier.
After a brief attempt, Garos ceased his efforts.
He couldn't break through quickly, and continuing would only waste his physical and magical energy, giving the hunters more opportunities. They were coldly observing him, waiting for him to exhaust himself, which was why they hadn't intervened.
Trouble, Garos thought.
He knew alchemy was highly advanced on Bernardo Planet, so the existence of various alchemy items wasn't surprising. However, this gladiator formation plate still caught him off guard.
"You're clever to try breaking the formation plate first," the spellcaster said, his voice echoing eerily. "But alas, you lack the power to destroy it—as does everyone here."
"This formation plate was custom-made at great expense. It's a flawless replica of a legendary item, even more valuable than a fully grown dragon. Using it on you is almost overkill."
Even ordinary hunters knew to sharpen their spears and prepare their tools before a hunt.
The gladiator formation plate was an item the dragon hunting group had obtained by spending nearly all their savings. Its effects were formidable, but it could only be used three times. The first use had slain an adult black dragon, and this was its second deployment.
If Viscount Ironthorn hadn't offered them a substantial reward, they would never have wasted this opportunity hunting a juvenile dragon.
As for the True Legendary Artifact it replicated:
Beyond the replica's basic functions, it could continuously drain the target's attributes to amplify its own, creating a diminishing-increasing effect. Moreover, upon killing the target, it permanently gained one point of the victim's attributes—a true legendary item worthy of its name.
"Evil dragon! This will be your grave!"
A figure emerged from the dragon hunting group, his appearance striking Garos as strangely familiar.
He wore battle armor etched with thorn-flower patterns and wielded a massive greatsword. His face was cold and hard, his eyes burning with a deep-seated hatred.
Garos studied the man, recognizing his identity at once through his resemblance to Edmund, the thorn-flower motifs on his armor, and the venomous hatred in his gaze.
Viscount Ironthorn.
Instead of remaining within the southern federation's borders, he had liquidated his assets, recruited a dragon hunting group, and personally pursued Garos into the wilderness.
This surprised Garos, but it also ignited a surge of murderous intent within him.
If you don't cut the weeds at the root, this is the consequence.
Who could have foreseen the lengths a man consumed by vengeance would go to? Yet, given the circumstances at the time, eliminating Viscount Ironthorn, who was safely within federation territory, had been impossible.
But now...
The viscount had come to Garos himself, offering him the perfect opportunity to eradicate the root of his troubles.
"I underestimated your resolve," Garos said, his voice low. "Daring to pursue me into the wilderness—you have guts."
His gaze deepened, then he suddenly grinned, his tone shifting. "But your son groveled like a kobold, begging for mercy on his knees. He pleaded for forgiveness for his foolishness and insolence. I coldly refused and crushed him like a bug."
Verbal sparring can sometimes be necessary.
It can enrage enemies, causing them to lose control of their emotions and creating an advantage for oneself.
The viscount's face turned ashen as he took deep, ragged breaths, but he couldn't suppress his seething anger and hatred. He lunged toward Garos, only to be restrained by a massive hand.
"Pillage! Slaughter!"
"Evil dragon! You have committed unforgivable sins!"
The paladin's voice boomed with thunderous solemnity.
Garos recalled the descriptions of paladins from his inheritance: they always stood on the side of 'justice,' and their strength waned when their conviction in fighting evil wavered.
"You're mistaken," Garos said, his eyes fixed on the paladin. "This viscount pillages under the guise of taxation. As for you, you slaughter creatures living peacefully in the wilderness under the pretense of hunting, treating intelligent creatures as mere beasts."
"Pillage, slaughter... Heh, if I am guilty, then you are equally stained with sin."
The paladin fell silent for a moment.
Then, his gaze swept over Garos's formidable, menacing features, and he roared, "Innate evil hybrid dragon! Enough of your sophistry! Face my evil-slaying slash!"
He stepped forward and swung his dragon-slaying greatsword through the air.
Evil-Slaying Slash!
A fifteen-meter-wide crescent of sword light erupted, tearing through the air with a deafening roar as it hurtled toward Garos's neck.
Garos crouched low, his muscles coiled taut, and lunged sideways. He landed on the spectator stands at a slight angle, his claws digging into the stone steps, shattering them as pebbles rained down.
The Evil-Slaying Slash struck the ground where Garos had been standing, leaving a deep, jagged fissure in its wake.
As expected, just one glance from these people is enough for them to see me as an evil dragon that must be slain.
I no longer need to hold back.
The red-iron dragon glared at the dragon hunters, his pupils narrowing into vertical slits, his gaze icy and merciless, his predatory instincts fully unleashed.
This confined space left him no room to retreat, no way to escape. He had no choice but to face the battle head-on.
So be it. Let the battle begin.
No more weighing consequences, no more calculating risks, no more treading cautiously.
He had only one thought now:
Kill every last one of these enemies!
Garos spread his wings, dark crimson qi surging behind them. As the spellcaster chanted, a dozen shadowy chains pierced the void from all directions, coiling around his body.
Whoosh!
With a powerful flap of his wings, the red-iron dragon leaped into the air, aiming to gain altitude and weave through the shadowy chains.
The chains moved with blinding speed, and several snared Garos's hind legs. Though he shattered them instantly with his raw power, the brief delay was enough to halt his momentum.
That momentary pause.
A barrage of attacks followed in rapid succession.
"O King of Battles!"
"Tempest, the Unconquerable!"
"Grant us, O Great War God, the sharpness to cleave our enemies!"
The war priest, a hulking figure with a gleaming bald head and a sword-and-shield holy symbol tattooed directly onto his face, raised his blade high. A beam of light pierced through the blood-red barrier of the arena, descended from the heavens, and coated the weapons of all his allies.
"O King of Battles!"
"Tempest, the Invincible!"
"Grant us, O Great War God, the resilience to withstand all harm!"
He raised his silver greatshield, and another beam of light descended, enveloping the bodies of all his allies in a protective aura.
Beside the war priest stood a lean, muscular beast hunter, specializing in exploiting the weaknesses of large creatures.
He launched the first attack, drawing back his nearly life-sized bow. As runes on the bow's surface glowed, a radiant arrow materialized effortlessly.
His arm moved in a blur, as if multiplying into a dozen limbs, drawing the string back with lightning speed and unleashing a dense rain of arrows.
The arrow rain was relentless, each arrow aimed with pinpoint accuracy at the juvenile dragon's eyes, the gaps in its scales, the joints between its wings and body, and other vulnerable spots. Many arrows were also fired in advance to preemptively block the dragon's movements.
Garos remained largely still.
He merely raised a clawed hand and gently flapped his dragon wings, deflecting or shattering the arrows targeting his weak points.
The remaining arrows clattered harmlessly against his massive, thick-scaled body.
A constant ringing of metal on metal filled the air as sparks flew from the red-iron dragon's hide. His normally dark gray explosive scales rapidly turned crimson, glowing like red-hot embers.
(End of the Chapter)
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