Chapter 292: Exchange
"You're saying—this was a Red Dragon in its prime, yet already possessing the massive frame of an ancient beast, and capable of casting a Nine-Ring Spell? With a Spellcasting Ability?"
Despite the absence of a visible face, Dekks’ voice was thick with disbelief.
No wonder he was skeptical. As a veteran Slayer of Dragons with decades of experience, Dekks had hunted over a dozen Five-Colored Dragons—three of them Red Dragons—and his footsteps had spanned the entire Feiansuo Continent. Yet never had he encountered a creature so astonishing.
"Kid, are you mocking us?"
Rano, standing beside him, glared at Trelshka after the latter finished reciting his Intelligence. His grip tightened on his massive battle-axe, his tone sharp and hostile.
Even the gentle-faced Priest Ingrid Galces tapped her staff lightly against the ground, the crisp clink echoing through the hall.
"If your information proves to be inaccurate—deliberately misleading—we won’t accept the commission."
Their words were cold and direct, clearly signaling they had no intention of wasting time in this remote corner of the world.
Under the weight of several piercing gazes, Trelshka’s expression tightened. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his hands trembled slightly as he clutched the parchment, yet he managed to keep his composure enough to speak.
"The intelligence provided by the Bosk Duchy is absolutely accurate.
I swear on my honor. I’d even pledge it before the Divine Statue of Amanata."
Duke Leo’s face remained solemn, his voice firm and unwavering.
"We have proof."
Trelshka suddenly remembered something. From his pocket, he withdrew a glowing magical crystal—carefully cradled between his fingers. It was the relic of “Gray Hawk” Slaud, the sole surviving visual record of the tragic Tiriel Massacre.
A faint shimmer pulsed from the crystal, and a hazy, flickering magical image materialized in midair.
All eyes turned toward it.
Smoke choked the sky, flames scorching heaven and earth.
There, towering before a hundred-meter-high fire tornado, the Red Dragon slowly unfurled its wings. Each sweep intensified the storm, feeding the inferno. The raging firestorm trapped tens of thousands of soldiers within the Tiriel Valley.
"Gods... how could we ever fight something like this?"
"Fire! Everywhere—fire!"
"It’s so hot..."
"I... I can’t breathe..."
"This is impossible! It can’t be real!"
The image was filled with the agonized wails of soldiers, desperate gasps, cries for help, and Slaud’s own voice—frantic, unhinged.
When the recording ended, the members of “Crimson Edge” no longer wore their usual air of superiority. Their expressions had hardened into grim seriousness. Even Rano, the hotheaded Barbarian, fell silent, lost in thought.
The hall fell into an icy stillness.
Finally, the mage in the blue-black long robe—silent until now—spoke, breaking the tension.
"If I’m not mistaken, that’s an Eighth-Level Spell: Weather Manipulation. And it’s far stronger than the standard version. In normal circumstances, only a Silver Dragon at the Ancient Stage could awaken such a natural talent. Yet this so-called young Red Dragon is capable of it."
"We refer to such beings as Hybrid Dragons."
"I’ve heard my mentor speak of them before. They possess insatiable greed—unsatisfied with mere dragonborn talents. They seek power through any means necessary. The most dangerous of them have even triggered Multiversal-Level Catastrophes."
Dekks stared into the distance, voice low.
"Klein… if this target is truly one of those things, we’ll need to prepare accordingly."
He turned, eyes flicking toward Duke Leo.
"And this commission… needs to be paid more."
Under the legendary charisma of the Holy Knight, the demand carried undeniable weight.
Duke Leo’s face darkened instantly, shadows pooling across his features. But he clenched his jaw, saying nothing.
After all, his life—and the fate of the Bosk Duchy’s thousand-year legacy—now rested in the hands of others.
Humility was necessary.
Even if it meant enduring a humiliation he had never known.
Endure. You must endure.
For the sake of the Duchy.
---
Kingdom of Ashen, outside Northwind Keep, Iron Dragon Wing Palace.
The Cannibal Magician knelt half-prostrate on the steps, a mountain of flesh and sinew.
"Master, your foresight is truly unmatched."
"That hidden agent you planted—your half-elf Ranger from the Lutehand Alliance—has proven astonishingly effective."
Lanpu’s flattery had grown increasingly refined, his timing impeccable, his praise so smooth it felt natural—never triggering the usual sense of disgust.
"Oh?"
"What kind of intelligence is this?"
Even Lanpu, who rarely showed interest, was clearly impressed. Kai Xiusu couldn’t help but be curious.
The ogre mage’s face shifted instantly from sycophantic grin to solemn seriousness.
"According to intelligence from Richard Sieg, the Lute Players’ Alliance is actively making connections. They’ve reached out to the Silver Dragon Clan Melward, hoping to enlist their strength to counter the Kingdom of Ashen. The elder of the Mervold Clan—Oszedro, the Ancient Silver Dragon—is nearing Awakening. He’s been sleeping for over thirty years."
"Oszedro."
Kai Xiusu repeated the name quietly. He had heard it before—Olivia had mentioned him once. Her grandfather.
"Have they already noticed Olivia’s disappearance?"
"Still… it was inevitable."
Silver Dragons typically lived in loose, family-like units or clans, led by an elder Dragon Lord known as the Elder. The Elder offered guidance, settled disputes, and coordinated collective actions. A single clan might span an entire continent, yet individual dragons could go decades without direct contact with others.
But even if an Ancient Silver Dragon came in person, Kai Xiusu would not flinch.
"Go on. What else?"
"Lute Players’ Alliance has also made contact with Duke Fabrik Navarro of the Northern Border of the Phadran Empire, the Legendary Mage Tralfranlo from the Arcane Hermitage, the Druid Elder Sherzod Saba of the Ranger’s Guild, and even certain Ethereal Entities from Heaven’s Mountain."
"Though they don’t take it seriously, they may still send reinforcements to aid the Northern Regions."
Lanpu listed the names like a menu—cold, precise, and exhaustive.
Kai Xiusu let out a low whistle.
"Damn. The Lute Players’ Alliance truly live up to their reputation as the chaos-makers of Ailezegai. They’ve managed to rally all these powers."
"Looks like we’re truly facing a world against us."
He paused, gaze fixed on the horizon.
"But now? No one will stop me from unifying all of Anzeta. Not even a Divine Being."
His golden irises burned with a quiet, inner fire.
(End of Chapter)
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