Chapter 14: Bear Clan (Seek Follows, Seek Monthly Votes)

Beneath a night sky like black velvet, studded with countless stars.

The young red dragon stood atop a towering, jagged cliff, turning back to gaze down, its eyes slowly sweeping over the entire expanse of the crater territory.

Especially beneath this cliff face, the uneven, pitted ground carried nearly all of Garos’s memories from his early dragonhood.

“There’s no turning back now—I’m entirely on my own.”

Garos glanced at the two moons overhead, and the magical satellites indistinguishable among the true stars, his mood growing slightly heavy.

The magical level of the planet Bernardo, especially its alchemical mastery of magical constructs, was extraordinarily high.

The myriad magical beasts and ferocious creatures of the wild were secondary; the true danger lay in the kingdoms formed by intelligent beings.

“Arrogance, pride, greed.”

“These are the dragon traits most likely to cause a hatchling’s death—I must remain ever vigilant, never careless.”

A fledgling dragon leaving the nest has only two fates—become a new calamity, or become food for the wild.

Garos had no desire to become food, nor any interest in becoming a calamity; his goal was simple.

—Live, and live as long as possible.

Only after dying once could one truly appreciate the value of life; Garos cherished this dragonhood deeply, and once he recognized the world’s dangers, he persistently trained and strengthened himself.

“Hahahaha! I will build my own dynasty! Let countless creatures kneel beneath my wings, bowing low before me!”

Samantha’s loud cries against the night wind shattered Garos’s thoughts.

The six-year-old hatchling’s crimson dragon scales burned like fire in the darkness, brilliantly vivid, brimming with vibrant life.

But such scale coloration was ill-suited for survival.

Too conspicuous.

Garos, clad in dull black-gray buffer scales that blended nearly invisibly into the night, could hide and stalk far more easily.

As for Iron Dragon Gorton.

His black scales were somewhat better, but their faint silver sheen still made him stand out.

And Iron Dragon Gorton’s boasts were even greater than Red Dragon Samantha’s.

“I will establish a realm ruled by dragons, then rule over all dragons myself.”

Standing atop a protruding rock, he raised his head and declared his ambition to the world.

Garos was calm by nature, never loud or showy.

Looking at the two hatchlings, the red and iron dragon, after brief thought, said: “Samantha, Gorton—you two will follow me in survival.”

Having two hatchlings under his command, sticking together for mutual protection, would improve survival odds.

Moreover, Garos held deep reverence for the perilous wilds; a year of exploration had given him a thorough understanding of his surroundings.

With him leading, the two hatchlings had a far greater chance of survival.

Following Garos was, in truth, a win-win.

Unfortunately, the two hatchlings did not see it that way.

“No!”

Red Dragon Samantha spat sparks from her nostrils, sneering: “I am destined to stand atop the world—the foremost of the chromatic dragons. I alone shall become master of the wilds; I need no follower.”

Iron Dragon Gorton also shook his head.

“I’m heading south, where I’ve heard humans have gemstones set in their teeth.”

As he spoke of gemstone teeth, his greed was unmistakable.

Hearing this, Garos said no more, giving only a slight shake of his head.

Just as when the two hatchlings first broke from their shells, he offered them a choice again—and they gave him their answers once more.

Fate and dragonhood are forged by countless different choices.

Garos did not force the two hatchlings to follow him; if their hearts were unwilling, forcing them would only bring trouble, given their temperaments.

But he still gave them one final chance.

Looking at the two hatchlings, Garos spoke slowly: “If you change your foolish minds and seek my protection, go to the hills northwest, about ninety kilometers from here.”

“There, dense iron fir forests grow—easy to spot.”

“If I’m still there, I might take you in—provided you’re ready to become my slaves, obeying me without condition.”

With that, Garos turned away without hesitation, his gaze leaving the crater territory as he flew toward the hills where he had tamed the Earthquake Bear.

“Damn Garos—you’re too arrogant, looking down on us.”

“Wait—we’ll make you regret this!”

“Even if we die, even if beasts devour us, we’ll never beg you!”

Beneath the moonlight, Garos’s dark-gold tail ring gleamed with a pure radiance; behind him, the hatchlings’ shouts echoed—but the wild wind soon swallowed their noise.

Two weeks later, Iron Fir Hills.

The area was small, its resources limited—not an ideal habitat—but Garos had no better option, so he settled here for now.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The Earthquake Bear’s massive paws, encased in thick, hard rock, struck repeatedly against the dragon’s body.

Garos bore the heavy blows, his body trembling, buffer scales flying off, until his black-underlay, red-veined scales were exposed—then slowly cracking and denting.

But as the black-red scales began to split and cave in slightly—

The Earthquake Bear stopped.

“Get up. Keep going.”

Garos lifted his eyelids, displeased.

The Earthquake Bear had just stripped away his outer buffer scales; now came the true phase of refining his body.

“Aaaah! Your scales are harder than steel—I can’t strike another blow!”

The bear roared, plopping onto the ground, panting heavily.

His thick arms could barely lift; the rock coating on his paws had shattered from the buffer scales’ impact, revealing cracked, bleeding palms.

Garos was unsatisfied.

Though fundamentally still impact training, after this period of practice, Garos found this method of absorbing blows more precise—and the conditioning effect was excellent.

Besides having the Earthquake Bear slap him.

He also had it attack him with pseudo-magical abilities, to harden his corresponding resistances.

Naturally, the process was not pleasant; pain was unavoidable.

The Earthquake Bear was an 8th-level magical beast; Garos could not endure its attacks unscathed.

But perhaps because he had endured so many similar trials, Garos had developed extreme pain tolerance; moreover, knowing the pain meant he was adapting and evolving, he even felt a flicker of excitement.

“Quickly absorb earth energy and rest. We’ll continue soon.”

Garos permitted the bear to rest.

The Earthquake Bear looked miserable.

When he first submitted to Garos, he had assumed Garos was moody, enjoying beating his followers to vent anger—but his thick hide could recover, as long as he wasn’t killed.

But he never expected—

Garos was the opposite: he had a strange preference for making the bear beat him.

At first, the Earthquake Bear had been eager.

But he soon realized this was no good job.

Every time he was half-dead from exhaustion, Garos still wasn’t done; only his strong recovery allowed him to endure.

This can’t go on—I’ll lose my life rank if I keep this up.

As he rested, the Earthquake Bear pondered deeply.

Suddenly, inspiration struck—he called out to Garos, who was rubbing his tail against an iron fir tree.

“Dragon Lord!”

Dragon Lord—this was one of the common honorifics used by followers toward dragons, akin to “master.”

In the mere act of rubbing, the hard iron fir bark had been sliced into countless deep grooves, as if carved by axe and blade.

Garos released the poor iron fir, turning to face the Earthquake Bear.

The bear scratched his head, his simple face breaking into a shrewd grin.

“Heh—heh, you must want more Earthquake Bears as followers.”

Under Garos’s gaze, he explained at length.

Originally,

Earthquake Bear Mobel had come from a small bear clan.

His father was also the clan chief; besides him, there were several female bears and some immature cubs.

Earthquake Bears shared certain behaviors with lion prides.

Males dominated, stronger than females, and could not tolerate other adult males sharing their territory—they drove away adolescent male offspring.

“You mean, take me to conquer your clan?”

Garos asked.

“Exactly! Kill my father, and I swear—the other female bears and cubs will all submit to you.”

Mobel nodded firmly, pounding his chest in assurance.

How truly filial, Garos thought.

(End of Chapter)