A Dragon against the Whole World

South of the Atlantia Continent, Lotheren Kingdom, Royal Capital Palace.

"Gordon, what’s getting to you now?"

Princess Alina, wearing a moon-white long dress and a gold and white coronet, pushed the door open and saw the Fat Iron Dragon tossing around, unusually exercising.

"How can a noble dragon rely on external things? At the very least, I must be able to fly by myself."

Gordon recalled the posture and physique of the Red Iron Dragon that he adored and slowly rolled over, his massive body pressing down so heavily that even Magic Runes glowed on the floor.

"You’re quite adorable as you are, no need to deliberately lose weight."

Princess Alina stepped forward, patted the dragon’s plump belly, and said.

In her eyes, dragons with normal physiques seemed a bit ferocious, while Iron Dragon Gordon was just right now, looking harmless and cute.

"Alright... alright then."

Gordon felt the soreness in his body, and after hearing Alina’s words, he slumped down in dispiritedness.

"My mission is to delight Alina, make her happy. She likes how I look now, so I must maintain it. Yes, I am moving forward for the sacred and glorious cause of the Dragon Race, not because I lack the determination to lose weight."

He thought to himself.

Alina gracefully leaned against the Iron Dragon, feeling the cold metallic touch of the Dragon Scales, quietly reading a Magic Book.

Gordon acted as the role of a recliner, not disturbing the princess.

However, soon, Iron Dragon Gordon realized the princess seemed absent-minded, subconsciously tearing off a corner of the Magic Book.

"Alina, do you have something on your mind?"

The Iron Dragon sensed the princess’s anxiety and asked thoughtfully.

"The kingdom is going through a period of turmoil. I want to contribute to Lotheren, but I’m treated like a porcelain doll, overly protected."

Alina extended her hand, a mere whisper, and scalding Fiery Flames ignited.

"The people might think I am a weak princess in need of protection, unable to even truss a chicken."

"But in reality, it’s not so. I have the blood of the great Saint King, am a high-level Caster, proficient in the school of energy manipulation representing destruction and devastation."

"The Magic I cast can instantly end small-scale conflicts, reducing the soldiers’ bloodshed."

She extinguished the Magic Flames with a flip of her hand, murmuring: "But what’s the use? I’m still seen as a decorative vase, like Father cherishing me as a golden canary, unwilling to let a feather fall."

My naive princess.

When you go to the battlefield, see limbs strewn all over, rivers of blood, hear the sky-high slaughter cries and the wails of tens of thousands, you might tremble, unable to focus, unable to cast a single Magic...

Gordon thought this, yet said nothing, only listened quietly.

He knew very well that what Alina needed now was a listener.

And once Alina finished expressing herself and felt better, Gordon remained silent for a while before suddenly asking: "Alina, if it doesn’t require you to appear personally, but with your support, it could reduce bloodshed for your kingdom’s soldiers and deal a blow to other hostile kingdoms, would you be willing to pay the price?"

"Certainly."

The princess said resolutely, without hesitation.

Swiftly, she stared at the Iron Dragon and said: "Why suddenly ask this? Do you have a good plan?"

Recalling the Red Iron Dragon’s advice, Gordon gave a dry smile: "Just a casual question."

The fat covering Gordon’s cheeks hid any change in his expression.

Alina didn’t think much of it, simply flew up gracefully with a wave of Magic, then lay on the cold, broad back of the Iron Dragon, face up, reading the Magic Book again.

Border Area, Northeast, Ten Thousand Snake Swamp.

The sunlight that could illuminate Dragon Valley, which scattered across Galos, could not penetrate here through the dense miasma and burgeoning forest rooted in the swamp.

Just at the outskirts, an ominously dark and noxious chill assaults the senses, making one feel perilous and fatal.

Fortunately, Iron Dragon Solrog was no weak human. So when his claws crushed some dry branches and descended to the swamp’s outskirts, he approached with steady, composed steps.

"Giant Dragon, halt! Ahead is the territory of the Poison Tail Tribe."

With a rustling sound, pairs of cold vertical snake eyes lit up in the dark swamp.

Snake-man Guards gripped their swords firmly, and the Warlock Shaman’s Bone Staff was entwined with magical energy, ready to release spells.

Hissing... the muted sound reverberated endlessly, and amidst the confrontation between Snakefolk and Iron Dragon, the atmosphere turned tense abruptly.

Solrog is no longer what he used to be, he did not get angry because of the Snakefolk’s presumption but rather stopped in his tracks, waited quietly, said calmly: "Inform your leader, the Iron King of Molten Iron Tribe has come to visit."

His voice was like striking iron, carrying the distinct richness of the Dragon Race.

"Please wait a moment."

The leading Snake-man Shaman’s eyes flickered, gently tapped the ground with his Bone Staff.

In an instant, a small transparent snake burrowed into the swamp, darting swiftly backward.

Soon, the small snake returned, slithered up to the Snake-man Shaman’s ear.

"The leader said, the Poison Tail Tribe welcomes the Giant Dragon who comes with goodwill, please follow me."

Iron Dragon remained indifferent as he was lead by several guards, walked towards the Snakefolk’s base with steady, agile steps, alone.

Inside a hollow giant snake skull.

Seven Snakefolk Elders coiled on stone-carved seats, among them were males and females, while the Snakefolk leader seated at the main throne was a particularly beautiful female with mesmerizing, enticing eyes.

Her skin was delicate, snow-white, almost glowing in the shadowy swamp.

Her lower body was exceptionally long, her snake tail exceeding ten meters, covered with fine, smooth emerald-green scales.

The most special aspect.

Her humanoid upper body had six arms, her long, slender arms flexing the well-proportioned muscles suggested extraordinary strength.

Six-armed Snakefolk—the advanced variant among Snakefolk.

The origins of Snakefolk are widely debated, mainly accepted theories being either descendants of the Six-armed Snake Demon from the abyss left behind after invading the Material Realm or ’Land Naga’ evolved from sea Naga coming ashore.

But no matter which origin.

The number of arms signifies its power and nobility.

If a descendant of the Snake Demon, then six arms signify Demon Blood’s reversion, if a Naga, six arms represent being favored and blessed by the Divine Spirit.

Upon seeing the Six-armed Snake Woman, Iron Dragon was first slightly stunned, then as his eyes skimmed over her long tail, emerald-like scales, smooth abdomen, humanoid beautiful upper body... he felt something stir in his lower abdomen, his body becoming slightly heated.

Solrog wasn’t very interested in female dragons.

He favored feminine beings with traits of both human and beast.

The combination of scales, tail, beauty, and powerful aura of the Six-armed Snake Woman in front of him piqued his interest.

Exhaling deeply, Iron Dragon subdued his desire, calming himself down.

He had serious matters to attend to there, couldn’t let desires interfere.

Besides, the Six-armed Snake Woman in front was evidently the Poison Tail Tribe leader, though her posture seemed lazy and relaxed, it instinctively signal danger for Iron Dragon, he was likely not a match for her.

"Welcome, Dragon of Molten Iron."

The coiled Six-armed Snake Woman spoke languidly: "I am Naris—current leader of the Poison Tail Tribe."

Three pairs of arms folded like flower petals over the Snake Woman’s chest, she examined the Iron Dragon, quipped with a faint smile: "The poison swamps cannot accommodate the Dragon Wings stretch, please remember to restrain."

The words were smooth yet sharp, and the Snake Woman’s expression was calm.

However, beneath her calm demeanor, Mind Mage Dragon sensed tension and vigilance. Clearly, Snake Woman Naries’s true emotions weren’t as composed as she appeared.

"Splendid, discussions are best conducted with creatures that understand reverence. Mindless brutes require claw-speaking."

Iron Dragon thought, baring a grin.

Even amidst swarming snakes, Iron Dragon did not timidly fold his Dragon Wings.

Instead, he provocatively extended them fully, breaking two swamp trees at the waist, crashing into the swamp and sending murky water flying.

The atmosphere instantly became stiff and silent.

The Snakefolk’s pupils stared coldly at the Iron Dragon, seemingly ready to pounce in the next moment, ensnaring and tearing him apart.