The wind swept in from afar, brushing down layer upon layer of meadow grass.
This was a gently sloping wilderness with no ruler. Under the sunlight, it brimmed with vigorous life. Lush green wild grass grew with wild abandon, deep enough to nearly drown a Hatchling Dragon's back.
Two figures raced down the grassy slope, one before the other. Rust-red flowers flew beneath their feet, scattering and falling in flurries.
The fleeing creature was an angular rock antelope. Few things in nature were swifter than a rock antelope, and this angular rock antelope was a Variant Species among its kind—larger and stronger than ordinary rock antelopes. When its hind legs kicked out, it could shatter even rock.
Yet its pursuer was a dragon, a race not known for speed. The Hatchling Dragon raced with a howl, its scales reflecting a cold silvery gleam. Muscles flowed beneath its hide like rippling water, and it was like a blade of light sweeping sideways, cutting through the unrestrained wilderness.
The two repeatedly changed direction at tremendous speed, crossing the meadow in the blink of an eye. Mountains rose abruptly from the earth, their upper reaches covered in interlocking stacks of bare rock that climbed along the ridgeline toward snow-shrouded peaks.
The angular rock antelope suddenly leaped toward the bare rock.
This was its stage. Its rear hooves kicked hard against the stone, sending fragments flying. Borrowing the force, the antelope sprang upward, rising a full meter through the air before landing firmly on a narrow rock above. On an almost vertical cliff face, it leaped as freely as if walking on level ground.
After repeatedly bounding upward, the rock antelope believed it had shaken off its hunter. Its long, soft ears twitched, and it turned its head to look down.
The Hatchling Dragon was right behind it!
The silvery figure skimmed close against the rock face, all four claws dug deeply into stone as it closed in at an unimaginable speed.
If the rock antelope could leap freely across sheer cliffs, then the Hatchling Dragon simply walked on level ground, as though the pull of the earth had no effect on it.
Immense terror appeared in the rock antelope's eyes, but it had no time to flee.
The Hatchling Dragon twisted through the air in a sharp arc. Fangs and claws came down together, dragging the heavy beast with it as it leaped toward the mountainside. Ahead lay a roaring, rushing stream valley.
The rock antelope still struggled, its four hooves flailing and kicking futilely.
Ferrum showed no mercy. His clawed toes pressed down on its spine while his fangs tightened inch by inch, drawing fresh, sweet blood into his mouth until its struggles ceased completely.
He could have simply swept the rock antelope away with his breath, but even while traveling, Ferrum strictly kept to his daily training. To add some enjoyment to high-intensity exercise, he preferred this kind of chase and hunt over simply using his breath to kill.
The potential provided by Mithril would only last half a year. To him, not a second could be wasted.
The journey had reached its end. Ferrum skinned the antelope's pelt and set it aside, slowly chewing the meat as he raised his eyes to observe the scene ahead.
The sky was blue as if freshly washed. Snowy mountains towered into the clouds, and midway up their slopes, melting ice armor sent streams and waterfalls tumbling down to gather into a vast lake. The water was a deep jade-blue, so clear it was nearly transparent, while rust-red flowers bloomed all the way to the horizon.
"Snowy mountains!"
Moqi, who had followed behind, let out a cheer. Chrome Dragons especially loved the cold and had a particular fondness for glaciers and snowy mountains. "Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could build a nest atop a snowy peak?"
After a while, the Cobalt Dragon also walked over step by step, and his pace was surprisingly not that slow.
"It's a good place."
Kelaili sniffed the crisp air, his pupils equally bright. "Why isn't it as desolate as you said?"
The Hatchling Dragons had only just broken free from the Great Dragon's control. They were still far from missing the past. Throwing themselves headlong into a brand-new life, they found everything before their eyes novel. Freedom filled them with ease and joy; heaven and earth stretched high and wide, and the future was worth looking forward to.
Along the way, these little villains had extorted every clan they encountered for supplies, raced and flown across the vast wilderness, climbed the highest mountains before jumping down, and dived into swift, icy rivers to swim...
A journey that would have exhausted mortals was just enough for the Hatchling Dragons to vent their overflowing energy.
Unfortunately, there were no female dragons traveling with them. The Hatchling Dragons only concerned themselves with hunting, killing, wrecking things, and making mischief. Otherwise, merely recording the growth of their affections would have been enough to compile into a storybook of its own.
"The scenery truly is beautiful."
Ferrum nodded. "But the desolation I spoke of is the desolation seen through a dragon lord's eyes. Windsong Plateau's resources were drained dry long ago. Its coal and mineral veins have been mined out, and even the stone and timber it can produce are far inferior in quality to those of Gray Mountain Black Lake. Besides..."
Ferrum stood halfway up the mountain and looked around. "There are no settlements in sight."
Windsong Plateau possessed distinctive scenery, but it was not a mountain meadow in the traditional sense. The land was like shattered stone split apart by a giant axe, chunks hanging between the mountains and facing one another across ravines and cliffs. Even herding had become a difficult task.
Dragons possessed excellent eyesight, yet after looking beyond ridge upon ridge of mountains, they saw no clan villages. There were occasionally a few lonely wooden huts, like grass growing from cracks in stone, each taking root on its own. There were scarcely any traces of intelligent life.
The Nickel Dragon landed with a flap of his membranous wings.
Heavy-Metal Dragons awakened their magic very slowly. Even after entering the Hatchling Dragon stage, only Bido, who belonged to a small dragon species, could currently glide over short distances.
"How was it?"
Kelaili glanced at the landing Nickel Dragon and asked.
Bido folded his membranous wings. Not only did he not answer Kelaili, he did not speak to Ferrum either. He simply took out the parchment scroll from beneath his neck, spread it over the ground, and narrowed his eyes as he studied it.
It was a hand-drawn map of Windsong Plateau. The date marked at the bottom was the year 8139—ten years ago, during Lord Zane's rule. When it had been made, the young dragons had not yet been born.
After looking for a while, Bido swiftly crawled over to the antelope Ferrum had finished eating. He dipped his hooked claws in sheep's blood, carefully compared the map with his memories, then began to smear and draw.
After quite some time, the Nickel Dragon finally let out a long, stifled breath. The serious expression faded from his face, and that slightly arrogant, smug look resurfaced.
"Boss Ferrum."
His tone was bright and soaring as he said to the waiting Chrome Dragon beside him, "The eastern side is roughly like this. I haven't checked the west yet. As you said, we'll first make a usable terrain map. Once we settle down and build our nests, I'll get a good hide and redraw it properly, stroke by stroke."
Back when Bido had become enemies with Ferrum and been taught a lesson so severe it nearly stripped him to the bone, he had appeared respectful and fearful on the surface. What he truly thought inside, no one could say.
To prevent hatred from growing over the long years and to avert hidden danger, Ferrum had simply forced the fellow to stay by his side, keeping him under his nose and under control.
Now, that decision had undoubtedly been correct.
Throughout this journey, Ferrum had focused on improving himself, Moqi had been lazy, and Kelaili had been slow. Thus, nearly all the intelligence gathering and clan negotiations along the way had been handled by Bido. The Nickel Dragon always had a few selfish motives and would pocket a few copper coins when the opportunity arose, but he had always kept within bounds.
So Ferrum did not bother holding it against him.
"I know the red dots you marked indicate traces of intelligent life. They appear to be scattered settlements. Didn't you find any large settlement?"
Ferrum looked at the map and asked in a low voice.
Heavy-Metal Dragons conquered land in a direct and brutal manner: first find the largest local settlement, then use violence to seize and control it, force the tribal leaders to bow their heads, and everything afterward would naturally fall into place.
"Not so far. Perhaps this is how the mountain clans avoid Lineage rule."
Bido shook his head, still looking at the map. "Although we haven't found any large settlements, now that we've drawn the map, we can see a few clues."
"The main clans in the eastern region are Mountain Goblins and Cave Dwellers. Boss Ferrum, look."
He pointed here and there. "The Cave Dwellers are all south of the stream valley, while the Mountain Goblins are in the north. Their range of activity is larger, but even after crossing the river, they only brush past the Cave Dwellers' territory. They do not intermingle, as if deliberately avoiding each other."
"There is a faint boundary between the Cave Dwellers and the Mountain Goblins." Kelaili lowered his head to look, speaking in a muffled voice.
"The Overlord is right."
The Nickel Dragon also called Kelaili Overlord. After the little group had shouted it back and forth for years, Cobalt-Blue Overlord was no longer a title but had become Kelaili's nickname. In the end, everyone called him Overlord as casually as they called Bido "Black Spot."
Bido judged, "That means they should still be organized. We've only just arrived, so we can't see clearly yet."