Alberto's bloodshot vertical pupils were locked tightly onto Garros, his massive dragon wings arching slightly.
Accompanied by the faint flicker of light from Alchemical Items,
one after another, massive treasure chests made of heavy solid wood and reinforced with metal strips appeared out of thin air, crashing heavily onto the rocks of the valley cliff where he stood with dull thuds, kicking up clouds of dust.
"This is thirty percent of the original debt and the interest."
Alberto spoke, his voice thick with the pain of parting with his wealth.
The Red-Iron Dragon's gaze swept calmly across the treasure chests, and he gave a slight nod.
Almost the moment he nodded, a group of well-trained wyverns of various sizes circled up from the shadows of Burning Steel Fortress. They snatched up the heavy wooden chests one by one and quickly carried them away from the cliff.
"These things belonged to me in the first place."
"Whether you challenge me or not, they were to be returned sooner or later. They cannot be considered an additional stake for this challenge."
The Red-Iron Dragon said.
"I know."
Alberto said, "I'm just paying back a portion first."
He exhaled, then said in a low voice:
"If I lose, I will owe you an additional debt equal to double the original total amount."
"But if I win, it will be enough to prove that I am already stronger than you. Indisputably stronger. That I have completely surpassed you."
The Red-Iron Dragon's thick neck, covered in heavy scales, shifted slightly at this moment, producing a faint sound of metal grinding against metal.
It was true.
He hadn't properly stretched his muscles or enjoyed an intense battle for quite some time.
However, seeing Alberto's urgent demeanor, Garros didn't mind speaking a few more words with him.
"Alberto, you seem very eager to win this battle."
He shook his head and said, "In my eyes, the probability of this victory is not high."
"If you lose, it will be even harder for you to clear your debts."
"Are you sure you still want to challenge me?"
Golden Dragon Alberto's massive head, covered in golden scales, gave a heavy nod.
There was no hesitation.
There was no wavering.
It was as if he had long ago cast all consequences to the back of his mind.
In reality, his willingness to risk increasing his debt to challenge the King of Molten Iron, whose fame shook The Borderlands, did not stem from a common competitive spirit.
Its root lay in the near-masochistic iron oath he had made five years ago in a fit of youthful arrogance and impulse—
Until he truly defeated and completely surpassed the Red-Iron Dragon Garros, he, Alberto, would abstain from all forms of entertainment and leisure. He would devote his entire being, without reservation, to training and honing his limits.
In the first two years, under the constraint and spur of this oath,
Alberto squeezed his potential day after day, night after night. He immersed himself in the sense of fulfillment brought by this extreme cultivation, enjoying it thoroughly, his heart filled with soaring fighting spirit and the conviction of certain victory. It felt as if surpassing Garros was just around the corner.
However,
as time flowed ruthlessly into the third year, his enthusiasm began to fade.
A deep sense of exhaustion quietly entwined itself around his body and mind like vines.
He began to crave the ability to relax his taut nerves even slightly, even if it was just to gaze at the starry sky for a moment or lazily bask in the sun.
But,
because he had made the oath too absolute and too cruel in order to steel his resolve,
let alone entertainment and relaxation,
even the most basic, sufficient rest time had become a luxury.
The recovery ability that Holy Dragons were so proud of
had instead become a curse at this moment.
Every time he trained himself to the point of exhaustion, collapsing on the ground like a pile of mud, it wouldn't be long before that oath would immediately transform into an invisible flame. It forced him to get up immediately and throw himself back into honing his skills, as if his back were on fire.
What pained him even more was that
his grand ambitions, his dream of shaping the perfect Golden Law—all these magnificent blueprints for the future—could now only be thought about and constructed in the pitifully short intervals of rest squeezed out under the pressure of the oath, like squeezing toothpaste.
The entire dragon was like a spinning top being lashed by an invisible whip, never having a moment of peace.
Five years, a full five years!
He was so busy he almost began to doubt the meaning of his dragon life.
Even his inherently paranoid nature had been worn down and diluted significantly by this boundless honing.
Finally—
he had endured until today, five years later.
Alberto could no longer hold back, and moreover, a voice deep within his heart was roaring:
After enduring these five years of what could be called purgatorial extreme tempering,
the potential of the noble Golden Dragon Bloodline flowing within him had been squeezed and utilized almost to its absolute limit.
He had grown much more than he was five years ago.
With his potential, his talent, and his unceasing efforts over these five years... at this moment, he wasn't necessarily weaker than the Red-Iron Dragon.
"I have made up my mind!"
Alberto's voice was resolute. "Garros, accept my challenge."
As his voice fell,
Alberto's sharp front claws, covered in heavy golden scales, sliced several bottomless furrows into the hard valley rock like a hot knife through butter.
His powerful limbs suddenly crouched, his muscles tightening and bulging like cables of refined gold.
His entire massive and heavy dragon body pressed down slightly, like a giant golden bow drawn to its limit.
The dragon was poised and ready to strike, like an arrow on the string, with the momentum of thunder.
"Then come, challenger."
Garros's voice remained calm as he declared the start of the challenge.
Whoosh—!
The Red-Iron Dragon's towering, sky-blotting wings suddenly unfurled completely.
With what seemed like a casual sweep, a piercing hurricane was generated out of thin air.
Immediately after, he transformed into a crimson meteor that tore through the sky, soaring straight up without any fancy maneuvers, piercing toward the high and vast firmament.
"I must win."
Golden Dragon Alberto growled in his heart.
Hum—!
Hum—!
Two beams of holy and majestic light suddenly flared up.
A crown symbolizing authority and flowing with brilliant golden light instantly appeared atop his high-held head. At the same time, the Sacred Vow Halberd, symbolizing the will to conquer and inscribed with ancient oaths, also shone with a piercing light, condensing into form from pure energy and being gripped firmly in his massive dragon claws.
The fully armed young Golden Dragon was bathed in holy radiance.
His massive golden wings also beat with full force at this moment, and the entire dragon transformed into a bolt of golden lightning that tore through the sky, following closely behind and charging fiercely toward the turbulent, boundless heavens.
Meanwhile,
aside from the Red-Silver Dragon Deborah, who still stood at the edge of the fourth-floor observation deck of Burning Steel Fortress with her slender dragon claws elegantly placed above her brow, looking up as if enjoying a play,
down in the training grounds,
White Dragon Tereshi had already paused her "education" of the two Young Dragons.
She was now watching with great interest, alongside Black Dragon Serafina who had just scrambled up from the ground and a pensive Green Dragon Ludwig, focusing together on the two figures about to collide high in the sky.
"The ecological niche of Golden Dragons is indeed very high within the mainstream dragon lineage."
White Dragon Tereshi analyzed calmly in her heart.
"In the eyes of other races, and even before most Chromatic and Metallic Dragons, they naturally appear majestic, holy, and noble."
"But—"
She gave a silent sneer in her heart.
"—he just had to challenge Garros, a Red-Iron Dragon whose ecological niche is inherently higher than his."
"A lower-tier challenging an upper-tier... I'm afraid the only result will be being crushed and humiliated once again."
She didn't need to see the process; she had already foreseen the outcome.
"Hmph, a Golden Dragon who doesn't know the heights of the heavens."
Green Dragon Ludwig's slender, emerald-green tail flicked as he gave a contemptuous sneer.
"The great King of Molten Iron will soon beat him until he kneels and begs for mercy," he said in a low voice.
Beside him, Black Dragon Serafina, who had just struggled up from the ground, also nodded silently in agreement.