Chapter 292: Communication
Chapter 292: Communication
“You’re saying—a dragon in its young adult stage, with the body size of an ancient red dragon, and capable of casting ninth-circle spells?”
Though his face was obscured, Dexus’s voice was filled with doubt.
It was no surprise that Dexus would be skeptical. As an experienced dragon slayer who had hunted over a dozen chromatic dragons—including three red dragons—his exploits spanned the Feyanso continent. Yet he had never encountered such an exaggerated dragon.
“Kid, are you messing with us?”
Lano, standing beside him, glared at Treliska, who had just recited the intelligence. He gripped his massive axe tightly, his tone hostile.
Even the gentle-looking cleric, Ingrid Garses, tapped her staff lightly on the ground, producing a crisp sound.
“If your side has misrepresented the facts for any reason, we will not complete the commission.”
Their words were sharp, clearly showing they didn’t want to waste time in this remote place.
Under the pressure of their focused gazes, Treliska’s expression grew tense. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and his hands trembled slightly as he held the document. Still, he managed to maintain basic composure and said with difficulty:
“The intelligence provided by the Bosk Duchy is absolutely accurate.”
“I’m willing to stake my honor on it, even swear before Amanata’s idol.”
Grand Duke Leo, his face serious, added with a resolute and forceful tone:
“We have evidence.”
Treliska, as if recalling something, pulled a magical crystal from his pocket and carefully held it up—it was the relic of “Gray Hawk” Shroud and the sole precious footage from the “Trier Massacre.”
With a faint glow, a somewhat blurry magical projection appeared in midair.
Everyone turned to look.
Billowing smoke obscured the sky, and flames burned brightly.
A red dragon slowly flapped its wings in front of a hundred-meter-high fire tornado. Each wingbeat intensified and expanded the tornado, trapping an army of tens of thousands in the Trier Valley within a sea of fire.
“Gods, how can we fight such a being?”
“Flames! Flames everywhere!”
“It’s so hot…”
“I-I can’t breathe…”
“Impossible, this is impossible!”
The projection carried the anguished wails of soldiers, their labored breaths, cries for help, and Shroud’s almost mad mutterings.
As the projection ended, the members of the Scarlet Blades no longer appeared aloof or disdainful. Their expressions grew solemn, even the hot-headed barbarian Lano seemed deep in thought.
The atmosphere in the hall became tense and stagnant.
Finally, the mage in the blue-black robe, who had remained silent, broke the tension by speaking.
“If I’m not mistaken, that should be the eighth-circle spell 【Control Weather】, but with effects far stronger than usual. Under normal circumstances, only an ancient silver dragon could awaken such an innate spell, yet this ‘young’ red dragon could cast it.”
“We classify such beings as variant dragons.”
“I once heard my mentor mention them. Their greed is insatiable. Not content with their innate gifts, they pursue greater power through various means. The most terrifying variant dragons can even cause multiverse-scale disasters.”
Dexus gazed into the distance and said in a low voice, “Klein, if this target is truly such a being, we’ll need more preparation.”
He turned his head to look at Grand Duke Leo, then said word by word:
“Also, the price for this commission must increase.”
With the extraordinary charisma of the legendary paladin, his voice carried an air of undeniable authority.
Grand Duke Leo’s face darkened with a heavy shadow, but he gritted his teeth and said nothing.
After all, his wealth and life now depended on others. He had no choice but to lower his stance, enduring unprecedented humiliation.
Endure, he must endure.
This was for the thousand-year legacy of the Bosk Duchy.
In the Ember Kingdom, outside Northwind Fortress, at the Iron Dragonwing Palace.
The ogre mage knelt like a massive mound of flesh at the foot of the stairs.
“Master, I am in awe of your foresight.”
“The agent you casually placed, that half-elf ranger from the Harpists’ Alliance, has proven incredibly effective.”
Langpu’s flattery was increasingly skilled, striking the perfect balance so as not to sound overly sycophantic, making Cassius receptive.
“Oh?”
“What critical information is this?”
Anything Langpu deemed significant naturally piqued Cassius’s curiosity.
The ogre mage’s sycophantic smile instantly shifted to seriousness as he said in a low voice:
“According to Richard’s information, the Harpists’ Alliance is brokering an alliance with the Melward Silver Dragon Clan, seeking their help to oppose the Ember Kingdom. The clan’s elder, the ancient silver dragon Oszedro, seems to be awakening after thirty years of slumber.”
“Oszedro…”
Cassius repeated the name, recalling hearing it from Olivia—it seemed to be her grandfather.
“Could they have noticed Olivia’s disappearance?”
“Well… it was only a matter of time.”
Silver dragons typically formed loosely organized family units or clans led by an elder. The elder offered guidance, resolved disputes, and coordinated any activities the clan undertook as a group. A silver dragon clan could span an entire continent, with individual dragons potentially going decades without direct contact with other clan members.
However, even if an ancient silver dragon came in person, Cassius felt no fear.
“Continue, what else?”
“The Harpists’ Alliance has also reached out to Duke Fabric Navarro, who guards the northern Fadlan Empire; the legendary mage Trefalanro of the Arcane Hermitage; the druid elder Sherzod Sabah of the Ranger Guild; and even some unique entities from Mount Celestia.”
“While these parties don’t seem very invested, they might dispatch forces to aid the northern countries.”
Langpu listed these factions as if reciting a menu.
Cassius couldn’t help but remark:
“Tsk, the Harpists’ Alliance truly lives up to its reputation as Erezaghe’s infamous meddler, managing to rally so many backers.”
“It almost feels like the entire world is against me.”
“But now… no one will stop me from unifying all of Anzeta—not even the gods.”
Cassius spoke softly, gazing into the distance. His pale golden eyes seemed to burn with flames.
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