Chương 125: Chapter 125: The Magma Pool
Fearing that Mosha Duchy might fight to the death if faced alone, the red dragon believed that with Garon's addition, the people of Mosha would either choose to obediently hand over all their wealth or stubbornly resist and ultimately perish under the might of the dragons.
Under the expectant and excited gaze of the red dragon, Garon slowly shook his head.
"I'm not interested in draining the pond to catch all the fish."
Then, with a light smile and a deep voice, he shifted the topic back, "Let's not change the subject. Now, hand over the wealth you've plundered from Mosha Duchy, and swear on the name of the mother of evil dragons that you will no longer raid Mosha."
Facing Garon's indifference to his proposal, the red dragon's expression turned sour, flames seemingly burning in its eyes, "Those are treasures I fought hard for. Why should I give them to you?"
It had been raiding Mosha Duchy for nearly half a year, and the thought of giving up its loot all at once was painfully distressing.
Garon chuckled lightly, his gaze slightly narrowing, then said in a stern voice, "Because you are no match for me."
The red dragon's face changed slightly.
"Either I beat you until you can no longer move and then plunder all the hoard in your lair."
"Or you can be sensible, hand over everything you took from Mosha Duchy, and keep some of your hoard."
The red dragon hesitated, its expression wavering, its tail restlessly swinging behind it.
As time passed and under Garon's increasingly menacing gaze, the red dragon's conflicted expression finally settled. It cursed under its breath, "Fine, fine, I'll give you the stuff from Mosha Duchy. I'm just unlucky to have encountered you."
The red dragon, heart bleeding, vented its anger on its nearby kin.
"You are all useless! What good is it to keep you!"
In a rage, the red dragon opened its mouth wide and released a breath of scorchingly hot flame.
It twisted its neck, sweeping the flame breath around, and in an instant, a large number of its kin were engulfed and reduced to ashes. After brief screams, they were turned into piles of ash, which were then whisked away by the breeze over the dark brown slopes of Mount Carol.
The kin of the red dragon did not die at Garon's hand but were nearly all obliterated by their own master.
Only a few whom the red dragon thought might still be useful, like the troll wizard and the deep-red tyrannosaurus, were spared.
The remaining kin trembled in fear, their faces full of dread.
"A bunch of useless things!"
After slaughtering its kin, the red dragon's rage was somewhat abated, and it stopped breathing fire.
Then, it flapped its wings and flew toward a side of Mount Carol.
Garon glanced at the pitiful kin of the red dragon, shook his head slightly, and also took flight, following the red dragon.
The kin of a dragon enjoy the protection of the dragon in its territory, safe from encountering too dangerous or powerful creatures. Many creatures are eager to follow a true dragon.
But being kin to a dragon, especially to an evil dragon, is no easy life, as demonstrated—they must always be wary of being incinerated in a fit of their master's displeasure.
The surface of the dark brown dead volcano was barren, resembling a vast, silent tomb.
On the steep slopes, fissures and holes sporadically spewed jets of high-temperature steam, filling the air with a strong sulfur smell and making it much warmer than the surroundings.
Though a dead volcano, this did not mean it was devoid of potential activity.
Inhaling the strong sulfur odor and feeling the heat and sticky warm air around him, Garon followed the red dragon and soon arrived at a cave halfway up the mountain.
Before even entering the lair of the red dragon, Garon felt a wave of rising heat hit his face.
If he were a pure white dragon, such an environment would be unbearable, but Garon now felt almost no discomfort.
He had initially struggled a bit when he left the far northern ice plains, but that discomfort was due to leaving a long-familiar environment, not due to the temperature change. Although he preferred the cold, he didn't mind high temperatures.
Here, the energy of fire elements was incredibly active, making an evocation fireball cast in this environment significantly more potent.
The red dragon entered its lair first, turning to look back at Garon who was still outside, with an unwelcoming yet inviting tone, "If you want to take a look inside, then come in."
Garon's eyes flickered, and he folded his wings, flying into the lair of the red dragon.
The walls and floor of the cavern were dark brown, with specks of
obsidian embedded around, reflecting a dim luster. The temperature inside was well over a hundred degrees—far too hot for ordinary creatures to survive.
The red dragon watched Garon closely, saying with certainty, "Indeed, you are not a silver dragon, nor could you possibly be a white dragon."
In its understanding, neither silver nor white dragons would want to enter its lair, the high temperatures being far too uncomfortable for their cold-loving natures.
Garon didn't respond to the red dragon's conclusion. Instead, he changed the subject, "Stop wasting time. Hand over the treasures you took from Mosha Duchy."
As he spoke, he looked inside the lair.
To his surprise, there was a large magma pool big enough to accommodate a super-large true dragon, with boiling lava flowing inside and bright molten bubbles popping at the surface.
The high temperature caused the air above to ripple visibly.
Noticing where Garon's gaze had landed, the red dragon said with a hint of pride, "Fancy a magma bath? I spent quite an effort to create this magma pool. It's a delight to swim in it when I'm free."
After a pause, the red dragon eyed Garon from head to toe, its tone mocking, "Oh, right, if you're not up for it, better not think about taking a magma bath. Your shiny silver scales would look pretty bad scorched red."
Driven by a strong sense of rivalry and unable to best Garon physically, the red dragon sought to regain some dignity in another area.
Garon looked at the magma pool, considering his own resistance. Surely, he was no less fire-resistant than the red dragon.
After a moment's thought, he glanced at the red dragon and casually remarked, "You think only red dragons can bathe in magma?"
The red dragon scoffed in response, "Why don't you give it a try then?"
It was convinced that whatever anomalous breed the silver giant before it might be, it was definitely not a red dragon; otherwise, it would have recognized it.
Different dragons have specific resistances and immunities, and for a non-red dragon to bathe in magma would be dangerously foolish.
The lava, with temperatures in the thousands of degrees, could melt some lower-melting-point metals, and even the physique of a true dragon could not endure it for long.
Seeing its confident demeanor, an idea began to form in Garon's mind.
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