The rainy season in the Serel Wilderness was nearing its end, but the wind and snow of The Borderlands seemed eternal.
The biting north wind whipped up dense snowflakes, dancing wildly under the lead-gray sky, draping a thick white veil over all of The Borderlands; the world was a vast, hazy expanse.
Whoosh!
A crimson meteor abruptly pierced through this white world, tearing through the wind and snow at an incredible speed, carving a scorching trail across the sky.
On the ground, several outpost guards noticed this startling celestial phenomenon.
They were initially shocked and tense, but soon, a widely circulated saying came to mind, and their gazes quickly shifted to deep reverence and worship.
In the present Borderlands, many of the new generation of Molten Iron kin had never seen their king with their own eyes.
However, a certain legend was deeply ingrained in their hearts.
When you see a mysterious crimson meteor tearing through the long sky, it means the King of Molten Iron has descended.
At this moment, Garros was beating his wings at near-limit speeds.
The surrounding scenery had blurred into indistinct streaks of color in his eyes, and his ears were filled with the continuous sonic booms and sharp whistles of the air being violently shredded.
His dragon eyes were bloodshot; though his expression remained calm, his heart was filled with uncontrollable irritability and violence.
The burning sensation of the Frenzied Flame never ceased.
The suppression he had exercised on the battlefield earlier had only temporarily pushed the flames down; this forced suppression had not weakened its power but instead acted like plugging a volcano, causing the internal pressure to accumulate and intensify.
"Where exactly does this flame originate? It is much stronger than a Lich's death curse."
Garros shook his heavy head, trying to untangle the origin of the Frenzied Flame amidst his chaotic thoughts.
However, his mind was currently like a tangled mess, filled with the noise of Fury, making effective thinking impossible. He simply pushed the problem to the back of his mind for now, intending to investigate further when his state of mind was peaceful.
Right now, thinking was not the priority.
"I need to destroy something. I need to vent."
This thought uncontrollably occupied his mind.
For a moment, he felt a sliver of understanding toward the Red Dragon Gorthax's past acts of insane destruction.
Anger is like a surging tide; if one only blocks it, there will eventually be a breach.
Forcing it down indefinitely would only lead to it completely shattering the dikes of reason at a critical point. By then, even he could not predict what terrible things he might do.
He had to conduct a controlled release once the anger accumulated to a certain level, then re-enter the cycle of suppression and adaptation.
This would buy him time to gradually adapt to the Frenzied Flame.
"If I ultimately cannot master the negative effects of this Frenzied Flame, then even if I kill Gorthax, the Mad King will not have truly perished."
The Red-Iron Dragon took a deep breath and thought, "He will be reborn through me, and I will become the new Mad King."
This thought made his determination to master the Frenzied Flame even firmer.
As time passed, the blood-red color in his eyes grew more intense, almost as if it would drip blood.
Under the roasting heat of violence and irritability, Garros struggled to maintain a shred of clarity and quickly identified a target for his release.
A few minutes later.
Looking down from high above, the vast Fertile Plains were completely covered in white snow, presenting a scene of silver-clad beauty.
However, in this pure white landscape, an ugly rift remained stubbornly, like a scar on the earth.
No matter how the snow fell, it could not be completely covered; instead, all the wind and snow that approached the rift were twisted and assimilated by an invisible force, taking on a similar gloomy hue.
—The Abyssal Rift.
Surrounding this gateway to the chaotic abyss, outposts equipped with hideous alchemy heavy cannons stood like a forest of steel. Elite Centaur Warriors, tall Ogres, cold Steel Golems, agile Snakeman Warriors... various Molten Iron Tribe guards were patrolling strictly around the area.
Unlike guards elsewhere.
Most of the warriors here were branded with dark purple Demon Patterns, and their bodies exuded a unique aura that mixed coldness and power.
These were the Demonized Guards.
Having fought the cruelest battles against abyssal demons at the edge of the rift for years, their bodies had undergone irreversible mutations under the long-term influence of the omnipresent abyssal aura and the splashing blood of demons.
Individuals who could not withstand the mutation and lost control had already been purged.
Those who remained were all battle-hardened elites with rock-solid wills and strength far exceeding their peers.
Their numbers might not be large, but they had become a hidden trump card for the Molten Iron Tribe. If deployed on the battlefield in future wars, they would surely bring unexpected surprises to the enemy.
The leader of the kin stationed here was the half-blood Centaur, Elvie.
She had just finished commanding the repelling of a small-scale Demon Tide and was quietly wiping the warm demon blood from her longsword. Her beautiful and divine face was covered with a layer of cold, murderous intent.
At her feet lay the mangled corpses of demons.
The surrounding kin were skillfully and efficiently clearing the battlefield. Everything appeared orderly, as if what had just ended was merely a routine drill.
However, right at that moment.
The ground beneath their feet once again transmitted familiar tremors.
Elvie's gaze suddenly became as sharp as a hawk's, instantly locking onto the direction of the rift.
Noisy, chaotic, and malicious hisses and roars surged out from within.
The abyssal aura, as thick as mist, churned violently. Then, one after another, demon figures with hideous, twisted forms and evil auras appeared, continuously squeezing into the Material Plane from the rift.
The moment they landed, they followed their evil instincts and launched a mad charge toward the surroundings.
As one wave settled, another rose.
The guards had long since become accustomed to these intermittent Demon Tide strikes and did not show the slightest hint of panic.
Vroom, vroom, vroom—!
The engines of the steel-forged Alchemy Golems let out low roars.
Deep cannon muzzles turned in unison, coldly locking onto the area around the rift.
They were only waiting for the demons to charge out to a safe distance to avoid the bombardment affecting the rift; then, a deadly storm of cannon fire would baptize the earth, followed by the ruthless slaughter of the Alchemy Golems and Molten Iron guards.
However, just a split second before the first round of bombardment was to roar.
That crimson meteor, symbolizing royal power, tore through layers of wind and snow. At a speed exceeding the limit of Mortal visual capture, it descended from the sky like divine punishment.
"All guards, retreat immediately!"
A dragon roar as sonorous as thunder rolled across the land.
After confirming it was the King of Molten Iron himself, all the kin did not hesitate for a second. They immediately followed the order and retreated quickly, moving away from their respective stationed areas and letting the demons pour out like a tide.
But there was no tension on their faces; instead, they relaxed completely, as if all threats were no longer worth fearing.
Boom!
The earth let out a groan of pain.
A terrifying shockwave, carrying snow with it, expanded outward like a white tsunami.
With the Red-Iron Dragon's landing point as the center, the surrounding ground instantly collapsed and cracked. Whether it was the weaker Quasits or the hideous demon leaders, they were all instantly turned into splashing minced meat and foul blood under the powerful impact.
This terrifying scene did not scare off the chaotic demons.
To these chaotic and evil creatures, death was not something to be feared.
They were like an endless swarm of ants, continuing to swarm out of the rift, treading on the corpses of their own kind, madly lunging toward the target in the center that exuded a powerful life aura.
This scene, like moths to a flame, caused a contradictory emotion to well up within Garros.
On one hand, it was the rage that these ants dared to provoke him; on the other hand, it was a twisted joy that there were enough objects he could wantonly destroy to satisfy the venting he so desperately needed.
He no longer exercised any suppression, allowing the blood-red color in his eyes to glow as bright as lava. The pent-up Fury poured out like a flood that had found a breach.
His claws tore through the air, letting out ear-piercing shrieks; every swing could slice several demons in half. His wings were like two indestructible giant blades, clearing a large area with every unfurling. Every sweep of his thick, steel-whip-like dragon tail could send demons flying and smashing like bowling balls.
Every part of his body had become the most efficient weapon of slaughter.
With him as the center, a radius of dozens of meters became a vortex of death. Severed limbs, broken carapaces, and stinking blood splashed everywhere, turning the pure white snow into a mess.
His massive body shifted and maneuvered.
Everywhere he passed, demons fell in swaths like harvested crops; life was as cheap as weeds.
"The Dragon Lord's state... seems a bit abnormal."
Elvie stared intently at the dragon shadow slaughtering amidst the demon horde. Her first reaction was even to doubt if this was Garros himself.
But that unique combat style could not be faked.
It was just that the King at this moment appeared more violent and cruel than ever before.
Furthermore, the shocking, massive wounds on his body—some still oozing blood—also indicated what a tragic battle he had experienced previously.
Elvie did not know the specific reason.
But she was extremely sensible and led the guards to continue retreating, having no intention of stepping forward to inquire or disturb him.
AI Model: gemini-3.1-flash-lite
The Red-Iron Dragon suddenly made a swift turn. His dragon wings, stretched to their limit, and his dragon tail, taut like a fully drawn bow, instantly swept across the battlefield, clearing out a vast area of demons as if mowing grass.
After slaughtering with such efficiency and cruelty for several minutes, his movements abruptly stopped.
It was not because his pent-up Fury had been fully satisfied, but because wherever his gaze fell, the ground was already carpeted with a thick, layered pile of demon corpses. For the time being, there was not a single living creature left standing in the vicinity.
"Not enough! It's still far from enough!"
Garros irritably clawed at a massive demon head, pacing back and forth on the spot in agitation.
His blood-red eyes involuntarily turned toward the guards standing in formation in the distance, especially Elvie, who led them.
Once Fury is unleashed, if it does not reach a certain critical point, it becomes even harder to control than when it is completely suppressed.
Under the gaze of those blood-red eyes filled with madness and the desire for destruction, Elvie instantly felt as if she had fallen into an ice cellar; it was as if the Grim Reaper's scythe were already pressed against her neck.
It lasted only a second.
The Red-Iron Dragon suddenly took a deep breath, forcefully averted his gaze, and turned his attention to the Abyssal Rift that was continuously spewing out demons!
He raised his head and let out a dragon roar that shook the heavens, his massive maw opening wide.
His scorching Flame-Thunder Breath surged from his mouth, striking directly at the Abyssal Rift.
Rumble!
The violent explosions were deafening; thunder and flames danced wildly, and the earth continuously collapsed and cracked amidst the roaring.
Under the impact of the Dragon Breath, the Abyssal Rift was torn and expanded inch by inch.
But this did not eliminate it; instead, it caused an even thicker, more evil Abyssal aura to surge forth from within.
Unless specific methods are used, the vast majority of brute-force attacks will only backfire and expand the rift.
And this was precisely the result Garros, currently influenced by the Frenzied Flame, desired.
More enemies, more satisfying slaughter!
As for the long-term trouble this action might bring... with his foolish mind currently filled with rage, he had no time to consider it.
Hum, hum, hum!
The ground trembled even more violently once again.
From the expanded rift, the number of demons pouring out increased suddenly, and their average strength had clearly improved, with quite a few elite leaders appearing whose Life Level reached around level 15.
"The Material Plane! Ah! Delicious flesh, succulent Souls!"
The newly emerged powerful demons roared excitedly.
But the next moment, an even more violent and excited dragon roar completely drowned out their clamor.
The Red-Iron Dragon charged into the flock like a hungry tiger.
With a violent, peerless posture that seemed never to tire, he once again began an even bloodier slaughter.
Although this wave of demons was strong, before Garros in his state of great rage, there was still an insurmountable gap.
It is worth noting that Garros still retained a sliver of reason amidst his Fury; he had expanded the rift, but he controlled the extent of the expansion within a certain range, not completely opening the gates of disaster.
"Run! Hurry and run back to the Abyss!"
"Don't come over! This is a trap!"
"There is an Evil Dragon here more terrifying than any demon! The Material Plane is too terrifying!"
As time passed, a few demons with higher intelligence who understood what fear was were finally terrified by this one-sided slaughter.
They abandoned their armor and weapons, rushing madly toward the rift, wanting only to escape back to the relatively safe Abyss.
However, just at this moment, a foul wind swept past.
The Red-Iron Dragon's grim and ferocious figure appeared at the edge of the rift at high speed.
In his mouth, he was chewing on a spider demon leader that was still emitting shrill wails, and toward those demons trying to escape, he bared a hideous smile even more chilling than that of an Abyssal demon.
"Since you have come, stay here, all of you."
He swallowed the demon remains in his mouth, which were almost crushed to pieces, whole, and let out a low, suppressed roar.
Immediately, a new round of slaughter was staged once again.
After some time, the area around the rift was a river of blood, and broken demon corpses were piled like mountains.
The Red-Iron Dragon stood in the center of this sea of blood and mountain of corpses, his imposing body covered in thick, bloody grime; even between the tiniest gaps in his scales, viscous liquid mixed with his own dragon blood and the demons' filthy blood was constantly dripping.
At the same time.
The suffocating aura of violence and brutality on his body began to slowly recede like a receding tide.
As his pent-up Fury was fully vented, the blood-red color in Garros's eyes also gradually dissipated, and his gaze regained its former clarity and depth.
Pant! Pant! Pant!
His chest heaved violently, his breathing as heavy as a bellows, and a wave of intense fatigue and dizziness washed over him.
"Damn it... what have I just done?"
Having sobered up, Garros recalled his previous actions and felt only that they were incredibly foolish.
He had just finished a brutal battle with the Red Dragon Father Gorthax, his physical state was at an unprecedented low, and his dragon jade energy was dim and in urgent need of replenishment.
Now, what he needed most was quiet recuperation and the intake of a large amount of high-quality energy to recover from his injuries and replenish his reserves for a second life.
Instead of dragging his broken body through such a battle that was completely useless and would only worsen his injuries.
Demons are not ants to be slaughtered at will; their quantity and quality added insult to injury for Garros, whose injuries were already severe. Most stupid of all, actively expanding the Abyssal Rift to satisfy his desire for slaughter was completely an act of drinking poison to quench thirst, a decision he would never have made in a normal state.
If a too-powerful Abyssal demon were to be drawn here, given his current state, the consequences would be unimaginable.
"Before fully adapting to the Frenzied Flame, periodically venting pent-up Fury is necessary, but it must be done while retaining a greater degree of reason; otherwise, it will lead to foolish acts with endless future troubles, just like this time."
Reason regained the upper hand; Garros quickly reflected and began to formulate countermeasures.
"I need an early warning mechanism to give me a reminder when I am about to lose control; this might help me recall some rationality."
Taking advantage of this moment, which was relatively his most lucid, his mind raced, planning out various strategies for himself to cope with the influence of the Frenzied Flame.
Additionally.
Regardless of whether the Frenzied Flame has other effects, the mere characteristic of being able to greatly interfere with reason and incite Fury—if it could be controlled and turned to his own use in the future, it might become a trump card for a surprise victory at certain specific moments.
"The more powerful the side effects, and the more difficult it is to control, the higher its potential value. If I can fully adapt to and master it, the benefits I gain will surely far exceed my imagination."
Garros took a deep breath, thinking about the positive side.
At this time, the Centaur Elvie cautiously came before the Red-Iron Dragon and bowed in salute: "Dragon Lord, your state... seems somewhat abnormal."
"May I ask, is there anything I can do to share your burden?"
Garros looked at this subordinate and said in a deep voice: "Today's events are just the beginning."
"For some time in the future, I may often come here to vent my irrepressible, violent Fury."
"During this period, I may commit some irrational acts, such as attempting to expand the rift again."
"Elvie, your task is to remind me in time when I am about to lose control."
"This is an extremely dangerous task, but I believe you are capable of it."
Garros noted that Elvie's Life Level had reached level 17, and her Bloodline was extraordinary; unless he lost control to the point of activating the Crimson Lotus State, she should be able to withstand a single blow without dying.
And even if he lost control, he instinctively would not easily use that ultimate form.
Elvie's expression was solemn; she deeply realized the arduousness and importance of the responsibility she shouldered.
"Please rest assured, Dragon Lord."
"I will do my utmost and absolutely will not fail your trust."
She said.
Subsequently, Garros gave a few more simple instructions, then flapped his wings and flew toward Dragon Valley.
He was in extreme need of energy replenishment and sufficient rest at this moment.
On the other hand, the influence of the Frenzied Flame was mainly on the mental level; perhaps, lighthearted games with the Red-Silver Dragon Deborah, or the antics and playfulness of the Faerie Dragon Vera, could to some extent alleviate his inner irritability.
Just as Garros was flying toward Dragon Valley.
In the distant Boiling Sea.
With a high-pitched and distant dragon roar, a huge and sealed Domain gradually dissipated like a bubble, revealing the vast, boundless sea area beneath it, as well as a large number of islands dotted across the sea surface like stars in the sky.
Between the islands, the waves were turbulent and the undercurrents were swift, presenting a scene full of vitality yet fraught with hidden danger.
Raging Tide Dragon Domain—an important territory of the Metallic Dragon governed by the Bronze Dragon King.
At the same time, this was also the birthplace of the Silver Dragon Adrian and the Copper Dragon Serena.
The decades-long period of closure had finally ended, and groups of Metallic Dragons were excitedly soaring freely between the sea and the sky, stretching their long-lost wings.
Quite a few figures flew straight toward directions far away from the Dragon Domain, eager to explore the changes in the outside world; many others still circled and flew within the familiar airspace of the Dragon Domain, enjoying the freedom at this moment.
However, the expressions of the vast majority of the Metallic Dragons were not relaxed; on the contrary, they could even be described as heavy.