A Legendary Dragon

When Geronimo ripped off the warlock's head, the sinister shadow in the sky finally revealed a satisfied smile. A wyrmling might be fledgling, but it did not lack the courage of the dragon race. After Geronimo severed his own wing in a desperate gamble, the Evil Dragon Goddess knew this little dragon was worth nurturing. Abraham Torres's soul was crushed by the Evil Dragon Goddess, turning into flecks of crimson light that sank into Geronimo's body. His memories, emotions, and experience all merged into Geronimo, and this warlock—who had stood merely a single step away from the legendary realm—became complete nourishment for the young half-dragon. Beyond that, all the remaining flesh and blood across the plaza rapidly melted, coalescing into a vortex of gore that poured entirely into the youth's body. His form began to mutate once more. His facial features, which had still been human save for a pair of horns, transformed completely into the head of a dragon after absorbing the vortex of blood. His frame expanded again, reaching two meters in height, and the severed dragon wing regrew, several fractions larger than before. The crisscrossing maws on Geronimo's body vanished, turning into dark striations that blended seamlessly into the dragon scales covering his skin. Geronimo unleashed a roar, the thunderous shockwave sending visible ripples through the air. The Evil Dragon Goddess's voice drifted down from the heavens: "I have bestowed upon you legendary power." Geronimo looked down at his completely mutated body and said with excitement, "I'm a true dragon now?!" "Far from it. Right now, you cannot even compare to the weakest of dragons, and you cannot bear the power I have granted you. Your body will utterly collapse in a very short time—unless you can grow into it before death takes you and master this might." Hearing that he would soon die, Geronimo showed little surprise. Instead, he asked the Evil Dragon Goddess with relative calm, "What should I do?" "Do whatever you wish. You wanted to become a dragon, so I have given you a chance. Now, as a dragon, survive upon this land that banishes dragons. I will offer you no further aid, but I will await your soul in Hell." As soon as the Evil Dragon Goddess spoke these words, the sinister shadow in the sky vanished. As a hell lord of no great standing, forging this body for Geronimo had already exhausted her. She had no strength left to spare for watching over this wyrmling. Geronimo felt the Evil Dragon Goddess depart. Left without clear guidance, he had to ponder his next move on his own. "Survive upon this continent as a dragon?" Geronimo opened his right hand, and crimson energy gathered in his palm. Three powerful beams of force erupted from his hand, blasting the nearest tower to smithereens. "Spells... Interesting." By devouring Abraham Torres's soul, Geronimo had not only acquired his memories, but also his spellcasting abilities as a warlock. Moreover, blessed by the Evil Dragon Goddess, his casting power would only surpass Abraham's. Having confirmed the power at his command, Geronimo flapped his wings and flew toward the corner of the plaza. After the fierce battle, a few lucky survivors remained among the slaves, fewer than thirty in total. Hovering in midair on beating wings, Geronimo looked down at them and said, "Do you want to live?" The slaves all wore expressions of sheer dread. Having clearly witnessed the half-dragon's ferocity, none of them dared answer his inquiry. "Too afraid? Then I'll take it that you don't want to." Geronimo raised his right hand as an Eldritch Blast began to gather. At that moment, someone finally cried out in terror, "I want to live! Please spare me!" With someone taking the lead, the other slaves followed suit, pleading loudly for mercy. Yet Geronimo said to the crowd, "If you want to live, rely on yourselves. No one in this world will save you, and no one will pity you. Drink my dragon blood and fight to the death! Only the strongest may live!" Slitting his palm with a sharp claw, Geronimo showered hot dragon blood down upon them. Every slave touched by the blood began to smoke as though scalded; the blood was caustic as vitriol. Geronimo shouted, "Fleeing leads only to death! If you will not fight for your lives, then none of you shall live! You alone can save yourselves in this world! Slay the others and nourish yourselves on their flesh and blood, or you will all die!" Whether through the effects of the dragon blood or some bewitching power in Geronimo's voice, the frantic slaves finally began tearing into one another. Lacking weapons, they fought with their teeth, hands, and feet. In the most savage, bloody manner possible, they hurled themselves upon their own kind with frenzy. In the end, only four heavily wounded slaves remained standing. Coated in gore, their mouths smeared from devouring who knew how many of their fellows, fine scales began sprouting across their skin, and their nails sharpened into vicious claws. Seeing that the four were about to continue their slaughter, Geronimo said with satisfaction, "Enough. From this moment on, you are my men. Follow me, and we shall rule this continent together." The four mutated half-dragons let out excited roars, their voices having already turned inhuman. Leading his four half-dragon thralls, Geronimo flew toward the castle of the Cerberus family. Having absorbed Abraham Torres's memories, he knew precisely what valuable treasures lay within the estate. Besides, neither he nor his four newborn half-dragons had eaten their fill. Deprived of Abraham Torres, the Cerberus family possessed no means of resistance. Having attained legendary power, Geronimo could effortlessly shred thick plate armor. Combined with the formidable spellcasting of a warlock, he soon bathed the Cerberus family's halls in rivers of blood. Not a sliver of mercy remained in Geronimo's eyes. He was no longer human; when he looked upon people, he saw them merely as ants. The patriarch of the Cerberus family chose to kowtow and beg for his life, crying out in desperate apology: "I know I was wrong! Please, for the sake of us serving the same master, spare me! I will use all the family's strength to assist you! I can definitely be of use to you! I truly know I was wrong, please give me one more chance!" Yet Geronimo merely replied, "Wrong? The strong prey upon the weak; what is wrong with that? Slaves exist to be sacrificed. When nobles slaughter slaves, they are merely disposing of their own property. What wrong is there in that?" The patriarch looked up in shock, wondering if he had misheard. "Were you not angry because of what happened to you?" Geronimo shook his head. "Of course not. I was never angry at all." "Then why..." "Why?" Geronimo let out a mocking laugh. "The strong preying on the weak is only natural. Why would you think a dragon eats people out of anger? It is simply because I am hungry." Draconic claws pierced through the man's chest and tore out his heart. The final member of the Cerberus family perished in utter despair. Geronimo swallowed the heart in a single bite, yet still felt unsatisfied. Though this body was immensely powerful, every exertion of strength seemed to increase the burden on his flesh, as though he was not yet worthy of wielding this legendary might. Wiping the traces of blood from the corner of his mouth, Geronimo muttered to himself, "This flesh and blood is not enough. If I want to keep growing, I must devour the flesh and blood of the truly strong." *** Once Anbaixiu finished off the dretches scurrying in all directions, he suddenly experienced an intuitive premonition. The agonizing future he had woven for the Cerberus family seemed to have come to pass. Although Anbaixiu could not ascertain the precise details, he was certain that the Cerberus family had been wiped out entirely in despair and bitter resentment, with not so much as a dog left alive. *It's only been two days, and retribution came this swiftly?* Anbaixiu realized he had underestimated the legendary ability of Pain Weaving; its onset had been shockingly fast. However, the Goddess of Fate was a top-tier hypocrite who never did anyone a favor without a catch. While he could not afford to leave the ability unused, he could not employ it recklessly either. Now that he had tested the waters and seen its efficacy, that was enough. Anbaixiu captured several dretches and attempted to pry information from their mouths. Yet aside from learning that they came from the first layer of Hell, he gleaned nothing else. For such weak monsters, once a Gate of Hell opened, they were driven into the mortal realm like sheep by greater powers, hunting living beings on sheer instinct. They had no knowledge of any hell lord's grand design; serving as cannon fodder was their sole purpose. Still, Anbaixiu did not come away entirely empty-handed. From interrogating the dretches, he gathered one useful piece of intel: There was more than one Gate of Hell. Aside from the one used previously to ambush the elves, at least two others existed, as these dretches had invaded the mortal world through different portals. The exact locations, however, required further investigation. When closed, a Gate of Hell could be relocated. Hell lords loved nothing more than opening a gate, letting loose their hounds, and moving to another spot to do it again, making tracking them exceedingly troublesome. Anbaixiu discussed the matter with the dwarf, but Hoffman Ironfist was not overly alarmed. An incursion from Hell was something that occurred on the continent once every few years. There were always madmen willing to act as guides for the lords of Hell, and the various nations of the continent had ample experience handling such invasions. Tracking down the cultists and destroying the Gate of Hell was usually enough to settle it. The trouble now was that the City of Alchemy had descended into chaotic warfare, leaving no single authority capable of marshaling their collective might against these infernal cultists. Hoffman Ironfist said, "Let us begin the peace talks as soon as possible. Only when the new borders are established can we deal with this hellish incursion under proper authority." Anbaixiu nodded. This matter truly could not be delayed any longer; if dragged out further, the Goddess of Pain would gorge herself to bursting. He wondered how the negotiations between Lady Rose and Catherine had fared, and hoped the Undead Queen had been able to withstand the Elven Queen's charm. Carrying that anticipation, Anbaixiu swiftly returned to the castle. Upon his return, he found the two queens still seated where they had been before, though the teacups on the table were long empty, and their expressions had turned thoroughly peculiar. The Rose of Decay's face was brimming with sympathy and compassion, while Catherine... appeared to have wept. The Elven Queen's eyes were rimmed with red, and tear streaks remained on her cheeks. Anbaixiu: "..." *They were supposed to be negotiating business—what on earth did they talk about?* Seeing Anbaixiu appear, Catherine hurriedly wiped away her tears, her face flushing crimson with embarrassment. It had to be said that the Elven Queen looked extraordinarily fetching like this; any other mortal man would likely have lost his mind on the spot. The Rose of Decay quickly walked over and pulled Anbaixiu outside, seemingly to spare Catherine further awkwardness. Anbaixiu could not help asking, "Lady Rose, what happened?" The Rose of Decay replied, "Nothing much. We simply shared some heartfelt words. As you know, there are only two queens on this continent; the pressure we bear is beyond what men can imagine." Anbaixiu: "..." *It's over. Did the Rose of Decay defect too? Can even the undead not resist Catherine's charm?* Seeming to see right through his thoughts, the Rose of Decay chuckled and said, "Rest assured, everything you wanted has been settled." Anbaixiu immediately asked in excitement, "Really? She agreed to my floor price?" The Rose of Decay said, "More than that. Take a look at this." She handed over a contract scroll. Anbaixiu hurried to take it and inspected it closely. A single glance left him frozen. Only after several seconds did he stammer in shock, "Th-this much...? Did we just fleece the elven race down to their last copper?!"