Five Years

On Storm Heights, the snow gathered, layer upon layer, only to melt away into water time and time again. In the blink of an eye, five years had slipped by. To long-lived beings like true dragons, five years was nothing more than the span of a single slumber. Yet to short-lived creatures such as humans and goblins, it was more than enough time for their world to turn completely upside down. What had happened during those five years? First and foremost, the vassals of Cinder Nest had multiplied exponentially, and their territory had steadily expanded. Egg-laying creatures like kobolds and lizardfolk could produce a dozen or more eggs in a single clutch. Viviparous beings such as goblins were not to be outdone; with astonishingly rapid breeding cycles, they could birth seven or eight offspring within a year. This explosive reproductive rate was one of the key reasons these frail races managed to survive in the harsh wilds. Soon enough, Giant Valley could no longer contain them all. The vassals had no choice but to expand outward. Now, Cinder Nest's domain spanned the entirety of Storm Heights. Dozens of tribes had been subjugated and absorbed, their valleys and caves turned into vassal settlements. Only the most elite and powerful were permitted to reside within the heart of Giant Valley itself, basking in the red dragon's unconscious blessings. Living in Giant Valley was considered the highest honor. In fact, the valley's name had even been changed to "Dragon Valley." At present, Cinder Nest boasted three chimeras, forty-one wyverns, sixty-five ogres, four hundred and sixty hobgoblins, three hundred and seventy lizardfolk, two hundred and four satyrs, and an uncountable swarm of goblins and kobolds. By conservative estimates, their numbers had already surpassed ten thousand. There were also numerous newly subjugated, scattered tribes—such as snakemen, troglodytes, and orcs—which were hardly worth listing individually, as they did little more than pay protection tributes. Second, the entire expanse of Storm Heights had become Cinder Nest's pasture and mining district. Hobgoblins possessed an ancient tradition of beast-taming. Much like more civilized races, they used oxen and horses to haul cargo and weapons over long distances. They employed trained ravens to relay intelligence and set ferocious wolves to guard prisoners and patrol encampments—a practice that Cinder Nest's hobgoblins maintained faithfully. The goblinoid faction, led by Duoluo, encompassed hobgoblins, ordinary goblins, and bugbears. They had begun systematically pasturing large herbivores, such as mammoths, aurochs, and giant indricotheres, to secure an ample meat supply for the dragon's forces. They had even started rearing tundra landwyrms. Though they had only three so far, these colossal beasts promised to be formidable assets for both transport and warfare. Meanwhile, Langpu held sway over the ogres, kobolds, and lizardfolk. The vast horde of goblins and kobolds had carved out an immense, crisscrossing subterranean mining network, continuously hauling metal and elemental ore back into the valley. The metals were smelted in underground forges and hammered into crude weapons to supply the growing army, while the elemental ores were stored within the red dragon's cavern as an energy reserve. However, these creatures were notoriously difficult to discipline; the moment supervision slackened, they would routinely attempt to flee with purloined ore. To counter this, Langpu had assigned a substantial contingent of lizardfolk and ogres to act as overseers. Throughout this time, Langpu remained Cinder Nest's chief steward. All matters required his approval—even those of the goblinoid faction. Though Duoluo resented this deeply and constantly plotted petty sabotage and underhanded schemes in the shadows, he still had to follow protocol and report his affairs to Langpu. Outwardly, the two maintained an uneasy truce to preserve basic internal order. After all, neither dared provoke the red dragon's wrath through infighting. Both bided their time, waiting for the other to slip up so they could lodge complaints the moment the dragon woke and topple their rival from power. As for the lesser squabbles among the goblins, kobolds, and ogres below, they were beyond counting. Clashes broke out several times a day, having long since become a routine part of life. "Just wait until the Master awakens," Duoluo would often sneer to his closest confidants. "Hmph, he won't be sitting in that seat much longer." In addition, Cinder Nest's interactions with humanity had grown increasingly frequent. Sige Town had become a puppet under Cinder Nest's de facto control. Under Hart's leadership, a "friendly trade" caravan consistently supplied the dragon's stronghold with human armor, weapons, and books through commerce. Perhaps due to the bounties placed on the dragon, every few months brought reckless adventurers who fancied themselves dragon-slayers, blindly blundering into Cinder Nest. Langpu welcomed these uninvited, insolent guests with his own brand of warm hospitality—beheading them and stringing their skulls into necklaces to hang at the entrance as ornaments. Yet the ogre mage often grumbled about why the red dragon forbade him from eating sapient creatures; it had been far too long since he had savored the taste of such "light snacks." Langpu had even captured several individuals claiming to be nobles, extorting handsome ransoms and several spell scrolls from their families before letting them go, which considerably enriched his personal arcane collection. In truth, Cinder Nest's rapid expansion had already raised alarms among northern human powers. Beyond the Lackman Duchy, both the Grand Duchy of Bosque further south and the continent-spanning league of vigilantes known as the Harpers had dispatched scouts to investigate the region. Most of those scouts, however, never returned. With Cassius still asleep, Langpu, despite harboring grandiose visions of world conquest, did not dare wage open war against other nations without the red dragon's consent. Consequently, though minor skirmishes were ceaseless, Cinder Nest never entered a direct, full-scale confrontation with any major human realm. And so, Cassius slumbered peacefully for five full years. When a true dragon slept, its inherent magical essence exerted a profound influence on its surroundings. A white dragon's slumber coated the earth in thick frost; a blue dragon turned the soil into endless sand; a black dragon withered lush forests into fetid swamps; and a red dragon transformed everything into magma. Cassius was no exception; he filled his cavern with molten rock. During this time, whenever the red dragon turned in his sleep or felt restless, a tremendous rumble would shake the cavern. Scorching white steam constantly billowed from the cave entrance, and splashes of lava frequently spewed forth, once severely burning several hobgoblin sentries on guard. This filled the vassals with dread, yet it also deepened their awe of the red dragon's terrifying might. At the same time, Cassius continued to unconsciously radiate his Bloodline Boon. The reach of this aura steadily expanded, and its potency grew ever stronger. By now, nearly every vassal within Giant Valley had transformed into a dragon-blooded creature, displaying unmistakable red dragon traits. To the adventurers in nearby lands, these monsters were regarded as the most lethal threats in the wilderness, bearing the fearsome reputation of "the evil dragon's fangs"—terrors that no one dared provoke lightly.