Alberto's massive head, covered in radiant golden dragon scales, slowly lifted, his slit pupils fixed directly on the Red-Iron Dragon.
He spoke in a deep voice: "Speak, then. What price must I pay for this?"
Stubborn by nature, with a sense of self so strong it bordered on extreme, yet surprisingly, all his thoughts and emotions were written directly on that dragon face, without the slightest pretense or guile.
Dealing with such a dragon was, in a way, simpler and more direct.
A flicker of understanding flashed in the Red-Iron Dragon's eyes, and his deep voice echoed across the barren land: "Since you insist on a clear price, then we shall proceed according to the laws and rules of The Borderlands."
He paused for a moment and said: "According to the rules, the only appropriate outcome for the plundering you have committed is to wash away your sins with death."
At this point, his tone shifted.
"However, I admire your philosophy, so, as the King of the Borderlands, I grant you a partial pardon."
He extended a dragon claw covered in hard scales and raised a sharp talon: "You only need to repay ten times the total wealth you plundered from the Molten Iron Tribe, and this matter will be wiped clean."
Ten times?! This number hit Alberto's heart like a heavy hammer.
A look of undisguised difficulty appeared on his dragon face.
Due to his extreme and grand Oath of Conquest and Oath of the Crown, as well as his naturally extreme personality, he was usually under the strict supervision of his elders.
This time, being able to escape the sight of his elders and embark on his own journey was entirely due to the gap created when the elders were summoned away by the Dragon Domain.
Before this... this ambitious young Golden Dragon was actually strictly restricted by his elders in the ways he could acquire wealth.
Every dragon scale on his body shone with noble golden light, appearing wealthy enough to rival a nation, but in reality, he was penniless, poor enough to clatter.
The largest sum of wealth he had on hand was precisely that batch of treasure he had extorted from various outposts of the Molten Iron Tribe not long ago to lure out the local lord, which was far from enough to even pay the tip of this tenfold compensation.
"Hmm?"
The Red-Iron Dragon keenly captured the flash of embarrassment on the Golden Dragon's face. He tilted his head slightly, his dragon pupils revealing just the right amount of surprise: "You seem to be in a bit of a dilemma?"
He said with a hint of amusement: "Could it be that a dignified Golden Dragon in his juvenile stage cannot even produce this insignificant amount of money? My punishment for you is already tolerant enough; any of my kin present here—"
His gaze swept over Samantha, Tereshi, and Solrog: "—could easily produce this compensation."
The Faerie Dragon blinked her bright eyes, wanting to protest.
[I can't produce that much either! The black-hearted Garros should make it up for me!]
As a result, before her little actions could even begin, she was nimbly coiled by the tip of the Red-Silver Dragon's tail beside her, instantly covering her mouth and strangling her protest in the cradle.
The expression on Alberto's face shifted violently.
Pride, embarrassment, unwillingness, humiliation... various emotions intertwined like a storm on that dragon face, very obvious.
Finally, as if he had used up all his strength, he squeezed out a few words with great difficulty in a stuttering, extremely stiff, and shameful tone: "Can... can I... use... installment... payments?"
He hardly dared to look Garros in the eyes, his voice becoming lower and lower, even becoming a bit stuttering.
"I... I can't take out so much at once... but I swear on my dragon honor... that I will... pay off all the principal within... ten years!"
"Installment payments?"
Garros's dragon head swayed slightly.
"According to the rules of The Borderlands and the customs of the Dragon Clan, this is usually not allowed."
"Furthermore, wealth is like a river; only when it flows can it converge into a wider ocean. For a ten-year installment period, you would need to pay at least... ten percent interest annually during this time to compensate for the loss caused by time."
Having said this, the Red-Iron Dragon nodded at Alberto in a friendly manner, his voice becoming gentle.
"However, just as I said before, this is ultimately just a small matter. I don't care whether you can pay it back or not; consider it a gift."
He looked deeply at Alberto, with a kind of insightful, almost "I understand you" generosity.
As if saying silently:
I know you can't pay it back, and I know you might want to just walk away, but it doesn't matter. No need to be embarrassed; we are all Evil Dragons, I understand your situation and thoughts.
"Are there any other... other ways of compensation?!"
Alberto asked this through gritted teeth, the pain of his self-esteem being repeatedly crushed making his golden scales seem to dim slightly.
Garros's gaze swept over the White Dragon Tereshi.
He pondered for a moment before speaking slowly: "Hmm, there have been defeated opponents in the past who, in order to repay their debts, chose to handle some matters for me."
"In short, it is in the form of an employment contract or a commissioned task, using labor or merit to offset the debt."
He cleverly avoided sensitive and humiliating terms like "allegiance," "submission," or "slavery."
He only used relatively equal words like "employment" and "commission."
However, the moment these words entered Alberto's ears, the young Golden Dragon shook his head violently, almost instinctively.
No! His face was full of resistance.
This was absolutely not because he despised the Red-Iron Dragon's Bloodline mixed with that of an Evil Dragon—in fact, deep down, Alberto held considerable respect for this powerful opponent who could defeat him head-on and, instead of taking the opportunity to humiliate him, recognized his philosophy.
The real problem lay in his Oath of Conquest and Oath of the Crown, in his ultimate ideal.
He wanted to establish a Golden Law that covered the entire continent, shaping a golden kingdom under his rule that was strict in law, orderly, and eternally peaceful.
To some extent.
Alberto's vision had subtle similarities with the Iron Dragon's—both longed to establish an order dominated by powerful Dragonkin.
The difference was—what the Iron Dragon longed for was a world where Dragonkin, as Dominators, enslaved all things; while what Alberto longed for was a land of order that conformed to the definition of justice and perfection in his heart.
Accepting the Red-Iron Dragon's employment meant he would be bound here, wasting precious time and energy to fulfill another's will, with no time to practice his own path and chase his own dreams.
To Alberto, the Golden Dragon who valued ideals above all else, this was an unacceptable condition.
"No need to rush to give an answer now."
The Red-Iron Dragon's voice broke the oppressive silence.
"Since the misunderstanding has been cleared up, and kin have come from afar, as the lord of this place, I should fulfill the duties of a host and treat you well."
His dragon snout curved upward, revealing an expression that was almost a smile: "I am indeed very curious about the grand philosophy in your heart."
"Why don't we go to a more comfortable place, sit down, put aside our positions, and have a good talk?"
The Red-Iron Dragon's attitude was almost unusually friendly.
However, the other Evil Dragons around—Red Dragon Samantha, White Dragon Tereshi, Iron Dragon Sorog—remained highly vigilant, their cold and hostile gazes like physical blades, continuously locked onto the Golden Dragon Alberto, the meaning of warning self-evident.
But...
As the victor, the Red-Iron Dragon Garros could take the initiative to invite him so magnanimously and tolerantly, and Alberto, who prided himself on noble blood and extraordinary bearing, how could he show weakness or retreat at this moment?
Moreover, he was not without reliance; his Magic Scales could grant him terrifying defense and speed comparable to an adult Golden Dragon in an instant.
Even if this group of Evil Dragons suddenly turned hostile, he was confident he could fight his way out.
"The shallow views of the mediocre are not worth mentioning."
Alberto raised his head and said: "And for a clear-headed person like you who is outstanding and insightful into the essence, I am very happy to talk and communicate with you."
He nodded his dragon head solemnly: "I accept your invitation."
Not long after, Alberto followed the group of dragons to Dragon Valley.
At this moment, the dawn light had become thick and warm, like a golden veil cast over the vast land.
When Alberto's gaze turned to the top of the valley cliff, his movements paused slightly.
A towering, massive fortress full of Dragonkin aesthetic style stood on the edge of the cliff like a burning mountain.
The rising morning sun gilded it with a layer of flowing molten gold; the entire fortress seemed to be burning, emitting a scorching red light.
Such a sight made even the proud Golden Dragon lose his focus for a moment.
A fortress—this was not an asset that every dragon could have.
When he came to his senses and his gaze moved down, sweeping across the inside of Dragon Valley, his pupils shrank slightly again.
He noticed that there were other Dragonkin in the valley.
Red, Blue, Green, Black... two dragons clearly in the juvenile stage, two smaller Young Dragons!
Counting them down, the number of Dragonkin gathered here had actually reached a full ten!
If given time, when they all grew up, they would surely make The Borderlands a hegemony that could not be underestimated.
Alberto's gaze could not help but turn back to the Red-Iron Dragon flying in front.
He knew clearly... among the dragons present, only this powerful Red-Iron Dragon in front of him could possibly gather so many unruly and diverse Dragonkin on the same piece of land.
Evil Dragons were different from the Metallic Dragons who advocated cooperation.
They had rebellion against order inscribed in their bones, instinctively longing to step on everything and stand at the top of the pyramid.
Only an Evil Dragon King powerful enough to crush all dissent, wise enough to balance the interests of all parties, and firm enough in will to make all dragons submit, could allow these vastly different Evil Dragons to temporarily put aside disputes and coexist on the same piece of land.
Thinking of this.
Deep down, Alberto's evaluation of Garros couldn't help but rise a few notches.
Meanwhile.
On the training ground at the bottom of the valley.
Several Young Dragons—Red Dragon Cahill, Blue Dragon Heriam, Green Dragon Ludwig, Black Dragon Serafina—were looking up with their little heads, staring dumbfounded at the scarred yet still shining, majestic, and extraordinary dragon shadow in the sky.
"A captive? Is that a captive?!"
Red Dragon Cahill swung her tail excitedly, her voice sharp and full of admiration: "The Lord of the Crimson Wings is too powerful! Too amazing! He even... even captured a Golden Dragon back!"
As a Red Dragon, she had a natural hostility toward Golden Dragons in her blood, and an instinct to want to step on them.
Although she couldn't do it herself, seeing Garros, who had Red Dragon blood, capture and bring back a clearly injured Golden Dragon, and thinking that she was also a member of Dragon Valley.
A sense of pride, being honored by association, arose spontaneously, making her unable to help but proudly puff out her chest.
"Incredible."
The Green Dragon said to his companion in a low voice: "Look at that size... it's at least a powerful young Golden Dragon! But he looks so miserable, his scales are damaged so much."
He shrank his neck: "It seems he just experienced an extremely painful beating."
In the sky, Alberto's eyelids twitched a few times.
The voices of the Young Dragons were not loud, but they were still captured by the Golden Dragon's keen perception.
Captive, beating?
The whispers of several Young Dragons made the Golden Dragon feel insulted.
He was clearly invited! And the previous battle was by no means a one-sided beating, but explaining or arguing with weak Young Dragons was not his style, so his golden dragon pupils looked straight ahead at the fortress that seemed to be burning, pretending he hadn't heard anything.