Iron Dragon's Advancement Journey

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　As a mountain range stretching across the desert came into view, the lead blue dragon gestured to Casalos:

　"Iron Dragon, this is the end of our escort mission. Any further and we'll be leaving the Standing Stone Plains."

　Casaloz nodded: "Thank you for your escort. Please tell Patriarch Susserasilas that Casaloz will remember this kindness."

　The blue dragon lowered its head slightly, and then the five dragons turned and left.

　The four of them began to worry about their journey again, not because they doubted Casalos's abilities. What they were truly worried about was what would happen if the fighting became too intense high in the sky and Casalos lost his grip on the cabin.

　However, soon a group of brass dragons, who liked to bury people in the sand and talk to them incessantly, emerged, dispelling everyone's doubts. After the brass dragons left, mischievous bronze dragons appeared...

　Escorted by different dragon herds, Casalos flew from dawn to night, and then from night to dawn, crossing the desert and entering the High Forest, not far from the High Forest.

　"Mentor," Isis's voice came from inside the cabin, "how many friends do you have on the continent of Faerûn? Gold dragons, blue dragons..."

　Casalos chuckled softly: "Dragons aren't always enemies, little girl. In the course of their long lives, even dragons from different factions can form friendships for various reasons."

　"You mean you saved the lives of those blue dragons?" Midnight asked curiously.

　"Pretty much, but that's not the point," Casalos replied. "Blue dragons are very order-oriented. For them, contracts and promises are far more important than moral alignment."

　“Sounds a lot like some kind of sorcerer,” Midnight said thoughtfully.

　“Indeed,” Casalos agreed. “Some blue dragons are just as obsessed with magic and knowledge as the most fanatical mages, and may even become addicted to music or art.”

　During their casual conversation, Casalos led the four onward, finally reaching the edge of the High Forest before sunrise the following day. The sun peeked over the vast desert, casting streaks of light across the High Forest through the clouds and mountains.

　“We’re almost there,” Casalos told the four exhausted men. “This is it.”

　The dragon's head pointed towards a group of enormous mountains floating in the air, shrouded in thick fog and bathed in the brilliant gold of the rising sun. Isis and Midnight gazed in awe at the magnificent sight, like fragments of heaven floating on earth.

　"Unbelievable! I've actually seen a mountain range floating in the air in my lifetime!" the priest exclaimed.

　“That floating mountain range is the home of Vera Marandes and Diszdedrodon Silverwing. In fact, the couple has sheltered the Silvermoon Federation here for at least 500 years. Without them, the Red Dragon would have destroyed Silvermoon City long ago, but no one knows their achievements.”

　“Dragons again?” Kavoran shook his head and smiled bitterly. “I’m starting to suspect that the entire Faerûn is secretly ruled by dragons.”

　“Then you overestimate us,” Casalos replied, a hint of self-deprecation in his voice. “Dragons may be powerful, but they also have their own troubles and worries… We’re all tired, so we can only bother the couple today.”

　"They are your friends too?" Midnight seemed numb. Kevoran and Eton stared at each other in a daze, while Isi read out "Wow" without any emotion.

　Casalos watched as two enormous figures, one gold and one silver, burst out of the mist, and accelerated slightly as he flew toward them.

　“Of course, I have many friends.” Indigo light flickered in the iron dragon’s eyes: “I’d like to see who else can stand in your way of bringing the Tablet of Destiny to the City of Glory.”

　72. Those troubles left behind

　In the darkness where shadows overlapped, Cyric's wings flapped, each flap accompanied by an aura of pain. His newly formed bones and muscles were still adapting, and each movement produced a teeth-grinding creak, like mechanical parts that hadn't been oiled for years being forcibly rubbed together.

　"Damn it!" Cyric roared, his voice no longer human, but a deep, metallic hiss. "That iron dragon is flying too fast!"

　Death Hunter—that's his… his new identity. The mysterious man promised him enough power to track down and defeat any dragon, but at this moment, Cyric felt only the rage of betrayal. His newborn dragon body was as heavy as lead, and the lift generated by his wings was far less than that of Casalos's elegant and efficient flight.

　"That liar!" Cyric cursed under his breath, the eerie blue light in his eyes flickering with his emotions. "What kind of trash dragon did he conjure? It couldn't even catch up to a damned iron dragon cub!"

　Cyric barely managed to maintain flight, streaking across the air.

Chapter 327

　The arc was less than graceful. The morning sunlight stung its seemingly unusually light-sensitive eyes, forcing the death hunter to descend and seek cover from the clouds.

　Below lay a vast desert, and Casaloz and that foolish "transport pod" had long since become a tiny dot on the horizon, hurtling into the depths of the Enok Desert at a speed that only fueled Cyric's despair.

　Anger and frustration swelled within Cyric, like an ever-expanding black fog. Suddenly, a strange feeling welled up from the depths of his marrow—an instinct, an innate power.

　“Perhaps…” Cyric murmured, tentatively unfolding his bone wings covered with a semi-transparent membrane.

　On the level of the concept of shadow, the Death Hunter could sense the invisible energy surging around him. It was the power of death and shadow, an ancient magic originating from the depths of the underworld, unaffected by the chaos of the prime material world. Cyric tried to touch this power, like reaching into a cold lake.

　In an instant, Cyric's consciousness seemed to be pulled into endless darkness. He could see the scars on the sky, feel the breath of death, and hear the whispers of countless souls. And at the edge of this void, there was a path leading somewhere, a shortcut paved with shadows.

　“I see,” Cyric let out a twisted laugh, his voice filled with malicious joy. “This is true power.”

　It stopped the futile chase and landed in a crevice in the desert rocks.

　The Death Hunter's claws gripped the hard sandstone, its bony claws digging deep into the rock like a hot knife through butter. Cyric closed its eyes, letting the power of the underworld flow freely. Its body gradually became translucent, as if merging into the surrounding shadows.

　"Come, servants of darkness," it whispered in an ancient language that was neither dragon nor dragon, "in the name of blood and bone, by the power of death, I summon you to serve me."

　The desert ground began to twist, as if something was struggling to break free of the earth. One after another, jet-black claws emerged from the sand, followed by deformed heads and contorted torsos. These creatures had no fixed form; their bodies seemed to be composed of pure darkness, constantly flowing and changing, the only constant being their pair of malevolent red eyes.

　Creatures of shadow, servants of the underworld, messengers of death—whatever they are called, they have only one purpose: to obey the commands of the hunters of death.

　“Traces that iron dragon,” Cyric commanded. “Follow its scent, but don’t let it get away. Notify me when it lands.”

　The shadow creatures let out a low growl, then dispersed like smoke, disappearing into every corner of the desert.

　Cyric nodded in satisfaction, then frowned, his thorn-covered brow furrowing. He wasn't used to his new body, much less the surging underworld power within him. But this power gave him an unprecedented sense of fulfillment.

　A satisfaction that transcends life and death.

　“Melk thought he controlled my soul,” Cyric chuckled softly. “Now, who is the true master of death?”

　It looked up in the direction Casalos had disappeared, and the blue flames in its eye sockets burned even more fiercely.

　“Cassaloz… Nur’s chosen people… Tablet of Fate…” Cyric murmured to himself, “When I catch up with you, I’ll show you the true power of death.”

　Deathstalker spread its wings and took to the air once more. This time, it didn't try to catch the incredibly fast iron dragon, but instead followed the tracks left by the shadow creatures, slowly tracking them down. Casalos would eventually land, and when that moment came, Deathstalker would give it a "surprise."

　The mysterious figure who "helped" Cyric but was also cursed by him stood deep in the High Forest, looking up at the distant mountain floating in the air—"Soft Wings," the territory of the golden dragon Vera Marandes.

　“Insignificant mortal beings,” the mysterious man murmured, “are piling up grains of sand to form a tower, attempting to resist the fate of the tide.”

　He strode slowly but firmly into the depths of the forest. The trees bent slightly as he passed, as if avoiding some deadly threat. The mysterious man ignored these reactions and headed straight for an area shrouded in thick fog.

　As the fog dissipated, an ancient stone fortress came into view—Hellgate Fortress, a cursed land.

　Hellgate is not like a typical castle, tall and grand. It is more like a massive stone platform, carved with intricate runes and twisted patterns. In the center of the platform is a circular depression, surrounded by seven stone pillars, each topped with a demonic face.

　A group of druids lived around the platform, built a camp, and guarded it for generations.

　“What an ingenious design,” the mysterious man exclaimed. “Using seven anchor points to stabilize the channel and prevent energy leakage. No wonder it has remained in perfect condition for so many years.”

　He slowly strolled closer to the platform, then stopped outside the druids' guard range, carefully observing each stone pillar and each rune.

　"Sealed away countless times, forgotten countless times. But you still exist, waiting for the right time."

　He raised his head, his gaze passing over the dense forest, looking towards the distant, floating mountain range that had disappeared into the distance.

　"Not everything that exists is fixed and unchanging. Some things, like this door, are just temporarily dormant, waiting for the moment they will be awakened."

　He is smiling.

　"The watchmen are smug on their heads, the god of death is profaning life, and the god of destruction is destroying order. But they don't realize that a real change is about to happen."

　His finger traced a pale blue line in the air. The line quickly formed a complex rune, shimmering faintly, before vanishing into thin air.

　“Cirik, my poor pawn, you thought you had gained power, but in reality you have only stepped into another cage. But it doesn't matter, your mission is simple…”

　73. Even dragons can be rich or poor.

　Just as a spell was about to be completed, the mysterious man suddenly stopped what he was doing and shook his head slightly.

　"No...no, it's not the right time yet. Let them finish this farce first. When the chaos reaches its peak, when order completely collapses, when the line between life and death becomes blurred, that will be the best time to open this door."

　He looked up at the sky, his gaze seemingly piercing through the divine realm, a hint of anticipation flashing in his eyes.

　“Soon,” he whispered, “soon everything will return to its origin.”

　After speaking, the mysterious figure gradually became blurred and eventually disappeared completely, leaving only a slight, sigh-like sound of wind echoing in the forest.

　"I swear, if I had to be locked in that little box like a blind worm for another two days, I'd rather trek across the entire Enoak Desert!" Kevoran complained dramatically, stretching his aching limbs.

　"Are you sure?" Midnight raised an eyebrow and looked out the window at the magnificent view floating in the clouds. "That's the most dangerous desert in legend, even large caravans don't dare to cross it easily."

　Isis leaned back in an intricately carved oak chair, enjoying a brief rest: “That’s enough, ‘robust’ warrior. Our mentor has led us to a place far safer than the monstrous sunflowers, the harbingers of the desert, and all sorts of desert predators—a dragon’s lair floating hundreds of meters in the air.” She emphasized the word “robust,” making Kevoran momentarily embarrassed.

　Eden observed the room's decor, marveling at the elven and dwarven craftsmanship incorporated, as well as some elements clearly reminiscent of dragons: "This place is simply an artistic marvel."

　The four were currently resting in a human-sized guest room within the "Soft Wings" floating mountain range. The room was spacious and bright, with a vast sea of ​​clouds visible through the window—a picturesque view. The exquisite furniture and furnishings indicated that the hosts had put considerable care into their guests.

Chapter 328

　They even provided them with toiletries and comfortable bedding.

　"Do you think our whereabouts might be exposed?" Kavoran asked, frowning. "We've passed through so many dragon territories along the way; the news might have already spread throughout the continent."

　“You’re worrying too much,” Isis shook her head. “The intelligence network among dragons is quite closed, and there’s very little communication between chromatic dragons and metallic dragons. Besides, who would have thought we’d be riding an iron dragon, brazenly traversing the entire Enoch Desert?”

　Midnight nodded, stopping his fingers from playing with the staff: "Besides, Casaloz is no ordinary iron dragon; it seems to have some inexplicable relationship with various dragon races."

　Just then, a soft knock came at the door.

　“Please come in,” Isis replied.

　The door opened, and a short but robust dwarf woman entered carrying a large tray. The tray was laden with various snacks: fragrant roasted nut crumbs, fresh fruit, delicate pastries, and several bottles of wine decorated with silver leaves.

　“The two dragons asked me to convey to you all,” the dwarf woman said in Common with a slight accent, “that the banquet is about to begin. Please rest for a while before proceeding to the main hall. These are some simple appetizers, which I hope will soothe your weariness from your journey.”

　“Thank you very much,” Eton said, taking the tray. The dwarf bowed and left the room.

　Kevoran practically lunged at the food: "I'm starving! I've been eating dry rations for two days in that damn cabin!"

　Midnight and Isis exchanged a glance and couldn't resist picking up some food. The two-day long flight was indeed exhausting, and with limited space in the cabin, there wasn't much food to actually enjoy.

　"This little bit of food..." Kevoran groaned, closing his eyes. "How can it possibly fill our stomachs?"

　Midnight took a sip of Silver Leaf Wine: "Didn't I tell you it was just an appetizer? The main course is about to begin. Wow, this wine has a magical flavor."

　“Yes,” Isis sniffed the liquid in the glass, “it should have some magical herbs added to relieve fatigue. Don’t worry, it doesn’t smell of any harmful ingredients.”

　Midnight nodded, leaning back comfortably in his chair: "Actually, if you look at it from another angle, our journey has been incredibly lucky. We've been protected by various dragons along the way and haven't encountered any real danger."

　“Yes, it’s like walking on clouds across the entire continent,” Kevoran laughed. “But then again, who can threaten a powerful iron dragon?”

　Eden shook his head: "Don't underestimate the enemy... Beneath the seemingly peaceful journey, there may be undercurrents. We are carrying the Tablet of Destiny, the passport for the gods to return to the divine realm, and those who covet it are all... gods!"

　A silence fell over the room.

　Finally, Isis broke the silence: "You're right, we certainly can't let our guard down. But for now, let's whet our appetites and prepare for the feast. I'm very curious to see what kind of banquet those two dragons will prepare for us."

　“And Casaloz,” Midnight added, “has been gone for several hours.”

　“Don’t worry,” Isis smiled. “The mentor always has his own plans. Perhaps he’s talking to the ‘masters’ of the floating mountains about things we don’t need to know.”

　The gold and silver dragons didn't keep them waiting long; soon another dwarf—this time a man—came to guide them to the hall.

　They walked through a long corridor, the walls of which were adorned with exquisite tapestries and magical lighting. The corridor floor was paved with smooth marble, and every few steps a lifelike statue or a fine work of art would appear.

　“This place is simply a temple of art,” Etton exclaimed softly. “Every piece is priceless.”

　The dwarven guide smiled slightly upon hearing this: "The collection here comes from all over Faerûn, and some even from other planes. Our revered Dragon Lords—Lady Vera Marandes and Lord Diszdrodon Silverwing—are both art lovers. Over the past five hundred years, they have collected countless treasures."

　“Five hundred years…” Midnight repeated softly, “What a long time that is for humankind.”

　“For dwarves or elves, that’s a considerable amount of time,” the guide added, “but for dragons, it’s just a short period of time after they’ve reached adulthood.”

　Finally, they arrived before a massive double bronze door. Intricate dragon patterns were carved into the door, gleaming metallically under the magical light. The dwarf knocked, and the double doors slid open silently.

　“Please come in,” the dwarf gestured invitingly, “The dragons have been waiting for a long time.”

　The four entered the hall, and even though they had already witnessed the "luxury" of the Jin and Yinlong couple in the past few hours, they were once again shocked by the scene before them.

　"Really..." Midnight couldn't find the right word, so Isis filled in the blank for her: "Rich!"

　74. Even the "Rich Dragon" didn't build his fortune solely on his own.

　The male dwarf led the four into a vast circular hall, its ceiling covered by a massive crystal dome through which a starry night sky could be seen. Golden patterns were inlaid within the crystal, outlining the shapes of constellations. Under the control of unknown magic, these golden patterns moved, always nesting the stars corresponding to their respective constellations within them.

　In the center of the hall stood a huge round silver table, laden with various exquisite foods and drinks. The utensils serving the food and drinks were all made of gold adorned with jewels.

　On one side of the table, Casalos was conversing with two enormous dragons—one a shimmering golden dragon, the other a gleaming silver dragon. Both maintained their dragon forms, their bodies, much larger than Casalos's, exuding a majestic aura, yet radiating a benevolent aura.

　“Ah, our guests have arrived,” Jinlong’s voice was gentle and pleasant, with a touch of femininity. “Welcome to Softwing. I am Vera Marandes, and this is my partner, Diszdedroton Silverwing.”

　The silver dragon nodded slightly in greeting, its silver eyes gleaming with wisdom.

　“Thank you both for your hospitality,” Isis said, bowing on behalf of everyone. “I am Isis, and these are Midnight, Kavoran, and Eton.”

　Casalos turned his head, his indigo eyes gleaming in the candlelight: "You've finally arrived. Don't worry, I've explained our situation to Vera Marandes and Silverwing. They've agreed to help us, allowing us to rest in Softwing for a day before continuing our journey to Waterdeep tomorrow."

　“Please sit down,” Vera Marandes gestured, and the four of them then noticed that several human-sized chairs had been placed on the table.

　After they were seated, Silverwing gently blew a breath of icy air, and several floating magic lamps lit up, adding a dreamlike atmosphere to the entire hall.