Chapter 79: I Will Return!

Under a stormy sky, the Copper Dragon finished its riddle, proudly swishing its tail as it waited for Garos to answer.

Garos remained silent, unable to respond.

The Copper Dragon was born a “Riddle Dragon,” but one thing was certain: in crafting riddles, its nature compelled it never to lie.

Its riddle offered multiple clues and was not difficult.

Garos had guessed the answer.

—Luck.

The Copper Dragon appeared before him not due to negligence, nor because of tracking on his gear or treasure, but because of something ethereal and unfathomable: luck.

This realization brought him relief, yet he did not forget he must overcome his craving and greed for treasure.

Garos blinked, gazing at the circlet on the Copper Dragon’s horns, at its neck scales now swollen again from the coins and gems stuffed within.

Since he had eaten a single magic gemstone, he had rarely trained in this area.

He realized it was because his instinct drove him to guard treasure, causing him to subconsciously ignore this weakness—and now he had noticed it again.

The best way to overcome fear is to face it directly.

Garos decided to steal another batch of the Copper Dragon’s treasure, then, in his spare time, confront those treasures directly, attempt to eat them, hone his will, and overcome his obsession.

At the very least, he must reach the point where he could swallow two magic gemstones at once!

This required immense willpower—more tormenting than physical pain—and only dragons understood how great the resolve and courage needed to achieve it.

On the other side.

Since Garos had not answered, the Copper Dragon assumed he could not solve its riddle, spun in midair, and declared the answer itself: “Half-breed, the answer is—luck!”

Garos turned his neck.

Slowly, deliberately, he unfurled his massive wings, flapping gently, stirring the surrounding rain, ascending into the air until he hovered at the same height as the Copper Dragon, roughly a kilometer apart.

“Fools win by luck. The weak rise by luck.”

Garos grinned: “Copper Dragon, it seems you have self-awareness—you know you are a fool and a weakling.”

The Copper Dragon’s smile froze.

Come to think of it, that was true.

Its own riddle had undermined itself, like lifting a stone only to drop it on its own foot—it felt unpleasant.

“You came before me by luck—what for?”

Garos asked again.

The Copper Dragon’s spirit surged; its scales began to glow faintly—the sign of magical energy flowing within: “Of course, to defeat you and reform your wicked ways! Turn you into a good dragon!”

Garos was puzzled, unsure of the source of the Copper Dragon’s confidence.

His gaze fell upon the circlet on its horns, and he grew wary.

“Last time you defeated me, it was by chance—and my carelessness.”

“This time, I will take the battle seriously. I have undergone brutal training and am stronger than ever before.”

The Copper Dragon spoke with certainty.

“Come, let us begin anew, settle this once and for all. This time, you will learn the power of metal dragons.”

It calmly waved a claw at Garos.

“The Copper Dragon seems confident. I’ll spar with it a few rounds, test its strength, then decide whether to fight, steal, or retreat.”

Garos made his decision swiftly.

His wings snapped open; the fine scales on the membrane rang like blades, rain shattering into mist between them, instantly vaporized by the heat from friction.

His body surged forward; rain was compressed into visible conical white waves, his wings leaving long trails of steam behind.

Unstoppable, carrying the rolling Dragon Power forged in the wild’s dangers, he shot toward the Copper Dragon like a meteor.

The Copper Dragon’s smile froze.

Even the harshest, most brutal training under its parents’ protection could not compare to Garos’s. If Garos’s training intensity were applied to the Copper Dragon, it would not survive a single day.

The Copper Dragon had indeed grown over the past half-year—but Garos had grown more.

Garos had fought for survival among the wild’s fangs, knowing each breath might be his last, never slacking; the Copper Dragon’s “brutal training” was merely a sheltered game.

Even without his formidable physique, his will, his spirit, his tenacity far surpassed the Copper Dragon’s.

The Copper Dragon finally reacted.

It frantically spat a gelatinous orange-red acidic breath, trying to slow or stop Garos’s advance.

Garos’s form blurred into a crimson lightning streak through the rain.

He did not charge straight—he darted left and right, moving at high speed along a winding path, displaying agility that left the Copper Dragon stunned.

Its eyes could barely track him; its breath could not reach him.

The next instant.

Garos was before the Copper Dragon, his right wing raised high, slicing through wind and rain like a guillotine blade descending.

The Copper Dragon instinctively raised a claw to defend—but its muscles locked. Fear flooded it like a tide; for a moment, its mind went utterly blank, forgetting even its innate spell-like abilities, forgetting its alchemical tools.

A flower grown in a greenhouse cannot face a warrior tempered by storms and the wild.

“Not dodging? So confident? Oh, you’re just terrified.”

“I overestimated you.”

At the last moment, Garos shifted his angle, slamming the blunt edge of his wing against the Copper Dragon’s neck with a sickening thud.

The treasure hidden in the scales burst forth like scattered flowers.

Coins and gems arced through the rain in brilliant trajectories.

Garos curled his wings, catching them all, wedging them between the fine scales, then swiftly extended his claws, ripping off the Copper Dragon’s circlet.

When the Copper Dragon came to its senses,

it was already done.

As before, Garos had stolen its gear and treasure again.

This time, however, it was even more humiliating.

It had believed it could defeat Garos—yet had been paralyzed by his Dragon Power, frozen like a puppet, offering no resistance at all.

“Want to turn me into a good dragon? Copper Dragon, you’re still far too weak.”

Garos toyed with the newly acquired circlet, speaking to the Copper Dragon.

He had no intention of killing it.

The risk was too great.

Metal dragons are naturally pampered by parents and elders, possessing emergency survival measures.

He might kill it while it was stunned—but its survival scales would likely trigger a backlash and kill him in return.

Moreover, Garos had realized:

This Copper Dragon had never trained in the wild, never faced true danger—only just left its parents’ protection, naive and foolish, posing no real threat to him, not even stirring his urge to kill.

As for its parents:

Elder metal dragons of the Lawful alignment upheld their principles; unless Garos cruelly murdered their child, they would never strike at such a young dragon.

“Why? Why is the gap between us so great?”

The Copper Dragon asked, unwilling.

Garos fell silent for several seconds, then grinned.

“It has no form, yet sharpens claws and scales.”

“It is silent, yet shatters cowardice and forges will.”

“It has no beginning, no end, yet makes young dragons crawl and true dragons soar.”

“It is neither parental love nor greenhouse warmth—yet it is why you stand here today—defeated beneath my claws!”

“Tell me, Copper Dragon—what is this?”

He posed the question in the Copper Dragon’s own riddle style.

The Copper Dragon froze.

Garos’s riddle was a sharp claw, slicing open its inner confusion.

It looked down upon the world, seeing lightning like silver snakes gnawing at ridges, seeing gales uprooting century-old trees.

Suddenly, it understood: it had never truly faced this world.

Its parents’ riddles, however hard, always had answers in books—but Garos’s riddles were written in blood and fire.

“Thank you… I understand.”

The Copper Dragon looked at Garos, etching the image of this half-breed into its mind, then spoke slowly, word by word: “Half-breed, remember my name—Debra.”

“I will return—reshaped, standing before you again—and I will defeat you.”

(End of Chapter)