Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

Chapter 300 Curtain Call — The Flower Knight’s Request

"The big winged lizard! Dare you come down and take my sword?!"

General Wolfbar ripped through the surrounding monsters, his furious battle cry blasting out through the gap in his helmet, the roar shooting straight into the sky with unabashed defiance and challenge.

three pairs of cold dragon pupils instantly locked onto the small yet outrageously conspicuous figure on the ground.

It wasn’t because lowly creatures could provoke them into anger — the Ignas Dragon Cluster no longer fell for such petty provocations. Their focus came from a shared conclusion.

The Runic Knight’s displayed strength far exceeded that of ordinary leaders. His threat level was extremely high. If left unchecked, he could inflict incalculable losses on the Molten Iron Tribe’s follower army. Besides, dragons did not disdain one-on-one, commander-against-commander battles; mindlessly slaughtering fodder bored them.

"I’ll deal with him!"

White-scale Trixie’s eyes flashed with sharp light; eager, she volunteered.

Although the Runic Knight’s combat power was impressive — chopping through lesser monsters like slicing melons — that didn’t change the fact that he was still human, and so far he hadn’t shown anything overwhelmingly stronger than the dragons.

Trixie believed her ecological niche was above his and that she should be able to crush him.

Whoosh!

She snapped her wings closed and, like an arrow loosed from a taut bow, dove toward the Runic Knight on the ground, bringing with her an arctic gale and terrifying wind pressure.

On the ground, facing the white dragon diving down with bone-chilling cold, the Runic Knight Rod drew a deep breath.

The runes etched across his armor, on his greatsword, and on his massive shield suddenly flared, turning into the color of scorching flames — like molten metal alight.

Flame runes!

Titanic body!

Including all his equipment, Rod’s form began to swell and grow enormous.

Raging flames burst from his body, wrapping him; the greatsword in his hand turned glowing red-hot, like a branding iron pulled from a forge.

In an instant, he became more like a fire giant than an ordinary human.

His gaze turned deadly; muscles taut, he gripped the burning greatsword, trying to deliver a killing blow the moment the white dragon reached its lowest point — at worst to cripple it and shatter its combat ability.

Yet something utterly unexpected froze the Runic Knight in place.

At the same moment his breath surged and, through giant and flame runes, he transformed into a fire giant,

the white dragon that had seemed about to crush him made not the slightest hesitation. It violently twisted its wings to one side, carved an impossibly agile arc through the air, and then... decisively retreated without looking back.

"That was close! This guy has been hiding his strength!"

"His ecological niche suddenly leaped up to this level — I don’t think we can handle him."

Trixie beat her wings nervously and climbed higher, inwardly relieved that her reflexes were quick and her intuition sharp — otherwise that reckless dive would have cost her dearly.

Red dragon Samantha’s discontented roar thundered: "White-scale trash! Driven off by a human, fleeing without a fight — aren’t you ashamed to disgrace our dragonkind?!"

Ashamed? Trixie answered inside without hesitation. Keeping my life is far more important than face.

"This human is indeed not ordinary. Don’t be careless. We’ll strike together and kill him!"

Iron dragon Sorog’s calm, murderous voice resonated simultaneously in the two other dragons’ minds.

Next moment, the iron dragon and red dragon struck from left and right like two blades of death, converging toward General Wolfbar on the ground.

Seeing them move, Trixie felt her ecological niche rise as well; courage flooded her.

She let out a clarion roar and followed, joining the encirclement.

Under the deep night, three giant dragons hung like judgment in the heavens, their cold light locking onto the burning figure below.

Iron dragon Sorog attacked first.

He folded his vast wings; his huge body tore the air, imitating in memory a certain blood-brother’s meteor-strike tactic — using his heavy mass as a weapon to smash downward.

Red dragon Samantha followed close behind.

She skimmed low and fast, not expelling a direct inferno but carving a blazing ring on the ground with her body’s trajectory, like a paintbrush sketching a mad, burning halo that trapped Rod in a furnace of lethal heat.

White-scale Trixie hovered above, her throat surging with ice-blue chill; frost breath poised, sealing off any escape.

Faced with such a netted, earth-and-sky combined assault, an ordinary warrior would have no hope.

But General Wolfbar was a survivor from mountains of corpses and seas of blood — someone who had stared death in the face countless times. He was no fool; lightning-fast, a counter had already formed in his mind.

Boom!

The iron dragon crashed down like a real meteor; the ground caved and collapsed where it struck, layers of shockwaves and flying rocks exploding skyward.

Yet in the instant before the impact, wind runes on Rod’s boots flashed. Speed surged; he narrowly dodged the destructive central blow.

Using the momentum, he hurled himself up. The great shield that had been blazing in his hand instantly shifted to a deep icy-blue.

Frost runes flashed violently, releasing penetrating chill.

He curled his body behind that suddenly formed frost behemoth shield like a traveler in a blizzard, and tore through the burning ring from Samantha’s breath.

Whoosh!

Would the white dragon let this slip? The stored frost, like an unseated glacier, plunged down.

General Wolfbar remained composed. He raised his still-Forge-Red greatsword and, with a bellow, released a condensed, tangible hot sword qi that met the lethal cold head-on.

Ice and fire collided violently in midair, steam billowed into a spreading white mist, and screeching sounds filled the scene.

Relying on the exquisite and instantaneous switching between runes of different attributes, General Wolfbar miraculously resisted the dragons’ first deadly combined strike.

But that was only the beginning.

Even fiercer, continuous attacks followed.

An invisible dragon roar detonated directly in his mind.

The mental shock caused a slight, unavoidable hesitation in his movements.

In that fuzzy instant, the iron dragon Sorog’s hard, heavy body had already closed in and raised his claw, the gust from the swipe tearing the air as it slammed down.

Rod’s pupils constricted.

The surrounding flames and frost vanished in an instant, replaced by a dense earthy ocher radiance as heavy as a mountain.

His arm muscles bulged; the giant rune greatsword was hammered upward in a full-strength block.

Clang!!!

A metal report, sharper than thunder, swept the battlefield. The shockwave visibly rippled outward in rings, tossing creatures engaged in battle — friend or foe — into the air.

Sorog’s claw, powerful enough to smash a wall, was stopped.

At the clash of sword and claw, red-hot sparks rained down like a waterfall.

In his giant state, Rod’s body had swollen like a colossus, his strength monstrously amplified; thanks to his higher life level he was not simply flung away by the dragons, but the tremendous recoil still drove his greaves deep into the rock beneath his feet.

"Ugh!"

Rod growled low, veins bulging in his left arm as he erupted with greater power. The mountainous shield slammed up with fierce wind pressure and struck Sorog’s lower jaw.

The sound of hard keratin shattering was clear.

Sorog roared in pain, yanked backward by the force, nearly collapsing backward onto his knees and stumbling several steps.

Almost at the same time, Rod felt a sharp pain at his chin as if an invisible heavy hammer had hit him hard.

A mind magic — forced pain transference.

The mind sorcerer path’s spell does not deal real physical damage but perfectly synchronizes the pain endured by the caster to the target.

"Die!"

The red dragon’s roar thundered at his ear.

General Wolfbar barely turned in time, with no chance to raise his great shield or lift his sword again. Samantha’s burning claws had already been driven deep into his chest.

Thud!

The red dragon’s brute strength drove through him.

Even with the mountain rune’s heavy protection, it could not fully offset the impact. Deep cracks spidered outward across his breastplate in an instant, and he was hurled backward like a projectile from a catapult.

—!

Trixie’s chanting never stopped. A dense, razor-sharp hail of ice blades fell like a storm, showering down at the airborne Rod!

Rod clenched through the pain and tried to pivot his massive shield to protect himself, but the place struck on his chest suddenly erupted in wild, uncontrolled bursts of flame — Samantha’s explosive mark, one of the alchemist’s techniques.

His defense immediately showed a gap.

Countless ice blades took advantage of this, pinging and clanging as they struck his body. His heavy armor was scored with deep cuts and white scorch marks.

The extreme cold and the lingering blazing heat from his armor clashed wildly, producing violent sounds as white mist billowed.

He fell heavily, chest rising and falling hard, and slowly pushed himself up using his sword.

Shield in one hand, sword in the other, the Runic Knight’s eyes moved like a wounded lone wolf, constantly shifting his vigilance among the three circling dragons, daring not to make another rash move.

He was a level 16 Runic Knight — among his rank quite outstanding.

But the three opponents’ life levels were each no more than level 13.

If those opponents were human, even facing many at once he would have long since annihilated them.

Yet three dragons around level twelve, with their innate racial advantages, had driven him into such disarray.

What weighed heaviest in his chest was this: red dragon, iron dragon, white-scale... all three were in service. That far exceeded his expectations.

An adult white dragon and two adolescent iron and red dragons.

He had assumed that even if he lost, he would not be this constrained.

Who could have guessed they did not fight on brute force alone — each possessed troublesome class skills, unique to themselves.

Under normal circumstances,

aside from perhaps the longer-lived adult white dragon, the two juvenile dragons should not have professions at all.

The most terrifying part was that intelligence reports clearly mentioned the Molten Iron Tribe’s true lord was a mixed-blood... a red iron dragon.

Up to this very moment of fierce battle, he had not even glimpsed a single scale of that red iron dragon.

His mood sank deeper; he finally realized how severely he had underestimated the Molten Iron Tribe’s terrifying strength.

These dragons were nothing like the chaotic, destructive beasts recorded in lore; they could not be judged by ordinary standards.

"Reptile, your death has come!"

Red dragon Samantha uttered a low victorious roar and dove again at the Runic Knight.

Under the coordinated assault of three profession-bearing dragons, General Wolfbar was now on the brink and could only stubbornly hold on.

Other officers and elite soldiers in his force burned with anxiety, wanting to help but trapped in brutal fights of their own.

Whether top fighters, mid-level commanders, or ground troops,

this private army of the Albert family, which they had boasted of, had been completely overwhelmed by the Molten Iron Tribe’s monstrous horde.

Meanwhile,

not far away on a hilltop, the red iron dragon stood silently among the shadowed rocks.

His calm gaze pierced the noisy night, watching the chaotic, bloody battlefield below with cold detachment.

Given the current situation, he had no need to personally intervene.

Core top-tier leaders like the Serpentfolk Sword Saint and the Dragon-vein Ogres were still holding the borderlands, and not all the high-ranking followers participating here were the tribe’s main force.

Even so, the Molten Iron Tribe’s army had already forced this noble private force into near-collapse.

The dragon cluster was growing sharp in blood and fire; the Molten Iron Tribe’s edge was steadily honing.

Garoth clearly perceived his wings growing fuller.

Not every battle required his personal involvement.

True, if he acted, he could end the fight with thunder, but the followers he had painstakingly nurtured were meant to shoulder burdens — not to be coddled forever.

Challenges within his followers’ capacity should be faced and solved by them; this was their tempering and trial.

If the von Albert family had no other backup, this costly private army was destined to be annihilated here.

"Only this overt army? No hidden blades in the dark?"

The red iron dragon pondered.

His main purpose in staying was to guard against unseen assassins they might not have revealed.

But the battle had gone on without any unexpected enemy showing up.

"Could it be... I worried for nothing?"

No!

The thought barely formed when the red iron dragon’s gaze sharpened like a blade. He silently turned his massive head and looked down toward a shadow on the hillside.

A figure was approaching at unbelievable speed.

His face was young and handsome, rivaling even Gold Dragon Alberto’s human form — it was the Flower Knight who had recently scouted Ximu Town — Sharl Meinse.

Sharl had planned to keep observing, hoping to glean the red iron dragon’s true power.

But seeing the accumulating casualties and bloodshed on the battlefield, his compassion finally outweighed tactical caution.

Even knowing that exposing himself now would plunge him into extreme danger and possibly draw a deadly encirclement, he chose to appear, hoping only to stop the massacre.

"Honored Lord of Molten Iron."

Sharl did not draw his sword. He stood where he was, speaking with a tone that held a plea: "I came on behalf of the Albert family, but I mean no harm. Could we... talk?"