Reborn As A Evil Dragon

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*****

I stretched my body. Fortunately, the cave of the Dragon Turtle was very spacious.

I walked out slowly.

The dragon turtle guarding the entrance of the cave raised its eyelids, and suddenly, it stood up directly.

It looked at me in astonishment.

Isn't the dormant period of a true dragon supposed to last for years?

Why did my master come out after sleeping for only two days and grow so much?

The dragon turtle had lived for a long time, but it still couldn't comprehend the scene in front of it.

Then it thought of its own changes.

Yes! I have broken through the limits of my body size, and my master is stronger than me, so he can definitely grow even more.

This must be the most talented type among true dragons, but there seems to be something more.

I had long been familiar with this strange look; after all, I am a true dragon with the void feast.

This change is normal.

And I also felt the situation of my subordinates through telepathy.

---

At this time, the battle in the Saranian Kingdom was close to one-sided.

Most of the kingdom's cities had been captured, and the big nobles were the first to flee.

Don't underestimate these great nobles; the loss of the Saranian Kingdom was no big deal to them.

It just hurt a little bit, after all, they had been in business for a long time.

The Kingdom of Sarania lay fractured, yet its roots extended deep into neighboring lands. Though diminished, the remnants of its great houses clung to power, scattering across distant kingdoms, awaiting the slow but inevitable rise from ruin. Among those kingdoms, none benefited more than Del. In the chaos, Del absorbed fleeing nobles, displaced civilians, and unclaimed cities like a vulture feasting on a dying carcass.

Under the Black Dragon's command, dark creatures prowled the borders, indifferent to the political machinations of the Kingdom of Del. After all, these lands had already been plundered countless times by dragonspawn and wyverns. What remained of value? As long as Del's forces stayed out of their path, the dark creatures allowed them to rebuild in the shadows of their former glory. Yet the wyverns, blinded by their bestial instincts, saw all humans as the same—mere flesh, differing only in fatness or frailty. And so, they attacked indiscriminately.

Even Del's armies fell prey to these ruthless wyvern assaults in the early days. Geraint, the once-proud warrior of legend, had joined the fray, standing defiantly amidst the chaos. The Black Dragon had never imagined that the void feast he held would spark such a chain reaction of betrayal, war, and ambition.

Meanwhile, Turson, the half-dragon warrior whose scales gleamed like molten silver, had become a beacon for the ambitious and the foolish. His presence drew mercenaries like moths to flame. Many sought to slay him, eager to carve their names into infamy by claiming the head of the half-dragon. But Turson was no ordinary foe. His body was a fortress of impenetrable scales, and his loyal half-dragon warriors followed him like shadows, their ferocity unmatched.

Entire mercenary groups were shattered by his might, their bodies strewn like broken dolls. Yet this only fueled the fires of greed and envy. The top forces of Sarania could do nothing to contain him; Turson tore through their sieges as if they were child's play. He was a living weapon, unstoppable, unyielding.

Among those who coveted his downfall was Fisk, the arrogant son of the Jagged Mercenary Corps' leader. Obsessed with Queen Laysa of Del, Fisk's desire burned like madness. Having glimpsed her only from afar, he convinced himself that her aloofness was a subtle invitation. Yet Laysa despised him, viewing him as nothing more than a brainless brute akin to the fool Ravel. But Laysa dared not openly spurn him, for the Jagged Mercenary Corps was legendary. They were renowned dragon slayers, famed for slaying a green dragon in the deadly wastes of Coltel.

Even so, Laysa knew better than to provoke the Black Dragon who ruled the skies. She feigned sorrow for her long-dead father, unwilling to risk a confrontation that would end in annihilation. Yet Fisk misread her caution as encouragement. He sought to prove his worth through bloodshed and glory. But when he begged his father for aid, the leader of the Jagged Mercenary Corps refused.

"You want me to wage war on the Black Dragon for your lust?" the leader had sneered. "You fool. Do you not know how many archmages and warriors that beast has slaughtered like insects?"

Undeterred, Fisk turned to the one target he thought conquerable—Turson. Rallying a motley band of mercenaries eager to curry favor with the Jagged Mercenary Corps, Fisk swore to slay the half-dragon and present his head to Laysa as proof of his strength.

But Turson was not one to bow to threats. When Fisk's pathetic coalition confronted him, they met annihilation. Turson's dragon-infused might was overwhelming, his claws tearing through steel and flesh with savage precision. His impenetrable scales deflected both blade and spell, and his magic resistance rendered their most powerful attacks useless.

The battle was over before it began. Fisk, despite all his boasts, had not lasted more than a heartbeat. Turson's claws tore him in half, his blood raining down in a crimson storm as his screams were silenced forever. The remaining mercenaries fled in terror, leaving only the broken remnants of their shattered force behind.

Fisk's "great legacy" lay in ruins, his name reduced to a cautionary tale of hubris and folly. No one mourned him. And Turson, victorious once again, stood atop the carnage, unbowed, unbroken—his legend growing ever larger.

---

I felt a little speechless.

Why didn't such a precious father give him life-saving equipment, just like Ravel?

With so many things with me, among other things, there are too many scrolls.

It's a pity that this guy named Fisk had nothing to protect himself after being killed.

Could it be because the mercenaries are poorer than the king? But that is a highly famous mercenary group!

It's just that the leader of the Iron-Blooded Mercenary Group was furious, and after paying a certain price, the two top-level warriors of the Saranian Kingdom who had been hiding took the risk of killing Turson.

Because of my order earlier, Geraint still had a good impression of Turson.

So he went to stop those two top-level fighters in person.

And for some reason, the location of their decisive battle was actually a city next to the capital of the Saranian Kingdom—Saradas!

But even if this stupid guy hadn't been killed by Turson, I would have had to kill him myself. Laysa was my woman, so how dare he lay his eyes on her figure?

"It seems that I can test the effect of the Son of Death!" I said something that the Dragon Turtle couldn't understand.

After that, I didn't care about the dragon turtle and rushed directly toward the water.

Bang~

I surged out of the sea like a sharp sword, and then my huge figure disappeared through the wide, looming gate that appeared in front of me, leading to the capital of the Saranian Kingdom.

I wanted to see if these guys really didn't take me seriously, besieging and killing my dependents so openly.

---

The city of Saradas was in ruins.

There were flames everywhere.

Geraint had turned into his gold dragon body, and there were still traces of battle on his form.

The golden dragon scales bore scars.

He had been fighting these two powerful top-level human warriors in front of him for more than an hour.

From the border of the Saranian Kingdom, they chased him all the way to this metropolis.

At this time, a strong middle-aged man in silver-blue armor, holding a huge axe, looked at Geraint. His hair was also blue.

"You are a metallic dragon, the most powerful gold dragon among metallic dragons. Why do you want to help an evil black dragon?"

Abel stared at the gold dragon in front of him in disbelief. He had never heard of a gold dragon siding with a black dragon.

"Because he helped me, and you dare to capture and enslave a true dragon—a young one at that!" Geraint was not a dragon bound by morality.

To say that metallic dragons are inherently good is not enough to restrain him. He was kind and had a bottom line, but he was also a true dragon. These people had crossed his bottom line by capturing the cubs of true dragons to enslave them.

"Bayram, it seems the two of us are going to slay a dragon today!" The size of the gold dragon in front of them clearly indicated it had not reached adulthood.

If it were an adult gold dragon, they would flee as far as they could.

However, this underage gold dragon might not be strong enough to defeat the two top-level fighters.

The top-level warrior Bayram, clad in red heavy armor, wore a horned helmet with blue lenses protecting his eyes.

It could be said that he was armed to the teeth. Holding a two-handed sword, he looked eagerly at the golden dragon before him.

"Abel, you're right. The blood of a gold dragon might help us advance to the next level!" Bayram swung the giant sword in his hand.

The dragon clan was full of treasures, and the essence of a gold dragon far exceeded ordinary wealth.

"I'm curious, are you two really not afraid of him? You can't even beat me!" Geraint was genuinely puzzled.

Although he had not yet matured into a full-grown dragon, his physical strength and magical prowess had greatly improved after undergoing that "bloodletting therapy."

Even though he was still young, he held his own in battle against the two top-level fighters. Of course, the formidable bloodline of a gold dragon played a major role.

"You don't need to worry about that!" Abel felt confident, recalling the promises made by the Iron-Blooded Mercenary Group.

Bayram spoke in a low voice, "I'm not afraid to tell you that the primary target of the Iron-Blooded Mercenary Group is the black dragon!"

"What? What about Fisk?"

"Heh, I know a little about Igor, the leader of the Iron-Blooded Mercenary Group. Do you know how many women he's slept with and how many sons he has? Fisk is just one of his many descendants, and only slightly talented at that."

"How could the mighty Iron-Blooded Mercenary Group care about such trash?" Bayram said disdainfully.

The leader of the Iron-Blooded Mercenary Group was an extremely greedy and lustful individual. Such a person was indifferent to family and trusted only in their strength.

"Do you know how much wealth that black dragon has? The entire treasure hoard of the Kingdom of Del. I heard that the treasury of the Kingdom of Del was emptied by him, along with the wealth of the top-level mage Theodore and everything he plundered from the Saranian Kingdom.

"Not to mention the black dragon's original treasures. These alone are enough to entice the Iron-Blooded Mercenary Group into action! Adding our strength to theirs, do you think that black dragon stands a chance?" The top-level mage sneered confidently.

Geraint fell silent after listening.

The black dragon's treasure? From what he remembered, he hadn't seen the black dragon with that many treasures!

He had seen the dragon's family members moving things back, but only occasionally...

Seeing Geraint's silence, Abel thought he was wavering.

"Gold dragon, we admire your loyalty. If you agree to serve me for 500 years, I will let you go! I believe we will make excellent partners in the future!" Abel added hastily.

To him, no amount of wealth could compare to the value of a true dragon—especially a gold dragon. Usually, they only revealed themselves after reaching adulthood.

A gold dragon on the verge of maturing was an unparalleled treasure. With proper training, it could become a formidable ally.

Geraint snapped out of his thoughts and glanced at Abel indifferently. Did this human think he was easy to bully?

"Where did the Iron-Blooded Mercenaries go?" Geraint asked directly.

Serving a human? Geraint couldn't do it, especially not for someone so weak they couldn't even defeat him.

"Of course, they went to the black dragon's lair. Nearly all his subordinates were sent to attack the Saranian Kingdom. Naturally, the lair is empty. With the strength of the Iron-Blooded Mercenary Group, the black dragon doesn't stand a chance!" Abel pressed, attempting to unsettle Geraint.

"Damn it!" Geraint's eyes burned with fury.

He knew the black dragon wasn't in the lair. Only Argenta, Delia, and some younglings remained there.

If the Iron-Blooded Mercenary Group was truly that powerful, then Argenta...

"Geraint, kill these two for me. I'm heading back now!" A voice suddenly sounded in Geraint's mind.

"Lord Barbatos!" Geraint exclaimed in surprise.

"Follow my orders!"

As I flew toward the city of Saladas, I watched the gold dragon Geraint fight the legendary warriors as if I were watching a movie—one with spectacular special effects.

But I hadn't expected this to all be a conspiracy.

My reliance on the habitual thinking of my previous life had harmed me. In my past world, family bonds still held some value.

But this world was different. No wonder that fool died so quickly; I should have realized it sooner.

They dared to steal from me?

This infuriated me. I felt insulted, as though my intelligence had been mocked.

Moreover, there were indeed treasures in the Black Blood Valley, likely their true target. Few knew the location of my true lair, the Dark Nest!

All the wealth my family had recently plundered was stored there.

I had believed that with Argenta and Geraint present, there wouldn't be a problem.

But I hadn't anticipated such a powerful lineup targeting my home...

---

"Master Igor, the black dragon's cave is right ahead!" A thin figure knelt on the ground and reported.

A middle-aged man, towering at 2.5 meters with fiery red hair, was eating an unidentifiable piece of meat.

He was holding a naked woman in his arms, and the woman's eyes were filled with terror because another girl had also been captured by this group earlier.

But now, only one remained. She looked at the barbecue in the red-haired man's hands with horror, suppressing her nausea...

He was clad in black armor, with mysterious runes faintly glowing on it, and a two-meter-long sword strapped to his back. This was Igor the Slayer, leader of the Iron-Blooded Mercenary Group!

A few figures sat idly nearby—they were other members of the Iron-Blooded Mercenary Group.

"Then, let this black dragon be our next glory!"

Igor displayed a terrifying smile and crushed the throat of the woman in his arms.

The others paid no attention to this scene, as if they had long since grown accustomed to it.

---

At this time, Argenta and the elf Delia were surveying the surrounding scenery from the lair.

The two of them watched as the goblins busily constructed palace complexes for their Lord.

Vickers had decided that the previous palace was still unworthy of the great Lord Dragon.

Thus, he leveraged the goblins' skills to carry out fine optimizations.

*****

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