Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon!

Chapter 562 Crowned-Level Reinforcement, Resurrection Forbidden, Trait Mutation 10

Garoth’s awakening battle had finally come to an end.

The invading legendaries—those who died had died, those who surrendered had surrendered—none escaped; each paid a heavy price for their choices.

The ordinary legendaries were locked deep within the Red Emperor Capital’s dungeons, while the few surviving crowned-levels were directly taken into the Sanctuary, suppressed and watched over by the Sanctuary’s Holy Spirit and Dragon Spirits, awaiting judgment.

The commotion from this battle was not small.

Before long, news of the Red Emperor’s awakening and the way he swept aside his enemies with an almost destiny-like presence spread across the Atlantis Continent like a storm, reaching the ears of nearly every sentient being.

Some said they had seen the Red Emperor stand against ten foes at once, his dragon wings unfurled to blot out the sky.

Some said those crowned-levels crumbled before him like hatchlings, utterly helpless.

Others said the battle had been so fierce that the heavens themselves changed color, the sky rent open.

The rumors grew wilder, but everyone agreed on one thing—the Red Emperor had returned, and he was stronger than before.

The peoples of the Northern Borders cheered and celebrated for this.

They were now part of Aola’s commonwealth; whatever honored Aola honored them too, so naturally they took pride in the Red Emperor’s might.

In taverns, markets, and fields, people discussed the fight everywhere.

Some fervent worshippers had already started calling him “King of Atlantis,” a title that spread through every town in the Northern Borders within days.

It seemed as if he were destined to rule the continent.

The reaction among the southeastern kingdoms’ alliance was the exact opposite of the Northern joy.

Many kingdoms were shrouded in a heavy, oppressive atmosphere.

Especially in the Farrel and Latona kingdoms, nearly everyone was anxious, trembling as they awaited the Red Emperor’s response.

Who would have imagined an entire clique of legendaries, including crowned-levels, would be annihilated?

In the past, such news might have driven people to sell off property and flee with their families to other realms.

Now it was different.

Atlantis was vast, but for those who had offended the Red Emperor, there was nowhere to run.

The North belonged to Aola; the southeastern kingdoms could not protect themselves; the west was engulfed in chaos stirred by dragon warfare—who would dare harbor enemies of the Red Emperor?

They could only wait in fear for destiny to unfold, living each day on edge.

In Farrel’s royal court, the king had not slept for days, waking each morning to check for signs of Aola troop movements. The Latona nobility clandestinely convened, trying to devise a plan to both save their houses and curry favor with the Red Emperor.

Meanwhile, Aola showed no particular reaction beyond jubilation.

They did not need to.

The whole Aola Kingdom basked in the emperor’s return, celebrating as one nation. Flags were raised, flowers placed before gates; children imitated the legendary poses of the Red Emperor as they chased and played in the streets.

Within the Dragon Pearl, the scene was similarly solemn and celebratory.

Outside the vast halls, Aolan dragons and lords sprawled about in their places.

Some reclined on specially arranged cushions, half-closing their eyes as they enjoyed delicacies; some stood and conversed with others about details of the battle; others simply lay across high beams, tails dangling, swaying gently with each breath.

Some figures moved busily among the great beasts.

These were the attendants of the dragon court.

Without exception, these attendants were trained dragon-blooded servants—agile and lithe.

They carried huge trays, negotiating between claws and tails to bring plates of food to every dragon and lord. Even the smallest trays were as large as human dining tables.

The trays were piled with various rarities.

Whole roasted cattle glistened and crackled on the surface, honey-glazed hams shone with fat, the whole rock-sheep still steamed, and there were giant barrels of wine and fruit pulp.

The air filled with the rich aromas of roasted meat, spices, and aged wine.

In the center of the hall, dancers performed.

Dressed in vivid skirts, they spun to the music; the lead dancer moved with graceful lightness, her skirt blooming like a flower as she turned.

The feast had continued for days.

From the moment the Red Emperor returned, the entire Aola Kingdom had plunged into revelry.

The legendaries who had witnessed the emperor’s majesty spread word across every corner; thus the nation celebrated as one for the king’s awakening.

One feast followed another from the palace to the borders; there was no sign of it ending.

Here in the dragon court, the feast belonged exclusively to the great dragons and lords—highest in status and most boisterous.

The Red Emperor himself joined the celebration with his subjects.

He reposed on the main seat, larger than any dragon at the feast.

His scales were deep-colored, each plate shield-sized, layered thick across his massive frame. His horns curved backward, tips sharp as lances; his eyes half-closed.

Even when resting silently, he exuded an indescribable oppression.

Before the Red Iron Dragon lay dozens of massive trays filled with high-energy foods.

Black oil crystals gave off a dim glow; refined gold and mythril ingots flashed a metallic chill; fist-sized top-quality gems—red, blue, green—were piled into little mountains.

He had been eating for a long time.

From the start of the feast he had not stopped.

After sleeping for decades, his body was greatly depleted. Though he had displayed crushing power in the awakening battle, it did not mean he had returned to full prime.

He had won splendidly, but his inner energy had reached a critical line.

Now that the fight was over he needed to replenish quickly to restore himself to peak condition.

Garoth had spoken many brazen words, but the caution etched into his bones remained.

The more utterly the crowned-levels had been defeated before him, the more uneasy he felt—fear that one day he might meet a similar end.

Those crowned-levels were once titans of the world; to fall so miserably before him made him shiver inwardly.

Who could guarantee perpetual dominance?

So he would not stop growing stronger; he sought the ultimate peace of mind.

The surrounding dragons and lords were discreet, refraining from interrupting.

They knew the emperor needed recovery; a few blunt ones who tried to propose toasting him were pulled back by companions.

Only when Garoth’s eating slowed and he exhaled a long breath, finally lifting his gaze from food to the lively feast, did Iron Dragon Gordon edge closer.

He was much smaller in size than Garoth, though still burly compared to other dragons. He came to the edge of the platform, wagging his tail lightly.

“My dear brother, you finally slowed down.”

“I thought you were going to devour the dragon court’s reserves. Your appetite is enviable.”

Gordon looked at Garoth’s un-bulging belly with admiration in his eyes.

Garoth tapped his belly, producing a deep sound.

“My appetite improved much this awakening,” he said.

More precisely, it had evolved.

Garoth’s stomach now resembled an ever-burning furnace.

Whether meat, black oil crystals, metal, or gems, once consumed they were digested in extremely short order and nearly completely depleted—his energy conversion rate had soared.

So efficient, he could replenish his battle losses mid-fight by eating.

He called this evolved trait the “Furnace Stomach.”

“My appetite actually got much worse,” Gordon said with a helpless shake of his head. “After you slept, Sorog and Samantha fell asleep soon after; I was the only one awake.”

“For all this time I’ve been managing the kingdom.”

“At first I was thrilled—finally in charge! But slowly I realized this isn’t easy.”

He counted on his claws:

“Endless matters every day.”

“This lord comes to request help with territory disputes; that envoy comes to negotiate trade; border patrols need arranging; resource allocation must be managed; new lands need development planning... I’m swamped.”

“Several times I’d just lie down for a quick rest and urgent matters called me up.”

“Gradually, I had no time to enjoy food.”

Garoth studied him and asked, “Do you feel worn out now?”

Gordon nodded heavily, nodding so vigorously his head thudded.

“Yes! Far harder than I imagined.”

“When Sorog handled these things before, I thought it wasn’t much—he’s an Iron Dragon; I can do it too. Just sign a paper and make decisions—what’s so hard?”

“Once I took over I found all those small things hid countless considerations.”

“A wrong decision can summon trouble.”

“A couple years ago a small duchy petitioned for tax relief after a snow disaster; I approved it. The news leaked and other duchies immediately came to cry poverty to me.”

He paused and added,

“Especially these years before you woke, I couldn’t sleep for worry—afraid you’d wake to find a kingdom in shambles. How could I face you?”

“I truly don’t know how Sorog did it for so many years without rest.”

“His management looked effortless, as if things resolved themselves while he barely blinked. Only when I did it did I see how absurdly capable he was.”

Garoth smiled faintly and said, “Because it’s his dream. On the path of chasing a dream and turning it piece by piece into reality, one does not feel boredom.”

Just as he enjoyed improving himself, Sorog enjoyed governing.

Seeing the Aola Kingdom thrive under his stewardship gave Sorog great satisfaction.

By contrast, Gordon shared some similar feelings but not as purely as Sorog.

“What’s your dream, Gordon?” Garoth asked.

Gordon was taken aback, then tilted his head thoughtfully. He had considered this question many times; his answer was usually the same.

He wagged his tail and chuckled, “Cling to my brothers’ strong legs and enjoy dragon life to the fullest.”

“Of course, when you were asleep and needed me, I gladly shared the burden. When you woke, I’d bask in your glory and continue enjoying life.”

“That’s enough for me—no heavy thinking, no heavy responsibilities.”

He said it with self-righteous pride, as if this were a profound dragon philosophy.

Most dragons took pride in grand deeds to prove their value. To be like Gordon, comfortable accepting patronage, was rare among dragons—almost a scarce trait.

“That’s fine, pretty relaxed.”

Garoth did not deny him.

He picked up a metal ingot, chewed it, the crunch ringing—metal crushed between his jaws before he swallowed.

“During my slumber, did any Sky Cities fall?”

“No.”

Gordon shook his head, tail tapping the ground lightly.

“Over the years, Halden seems to have turned the tide, pushing demons back. Those floating cities are steadier now; none have shown signs of malfunction.”

“Not a single one?”

“Right. Not once.”

Gordon affirmed and then remembered something, adding,

“Also, Halden once sent envoys requesting an audience with you.”

“I asked what for but the envoy wouldn’t tell me—said he must speak to you in person.”

“I figured you were still asleep and had them wait. They waited years; when you still didn’t wake, they left, saying they’d come back when you did.”

Garoth’s aura flickered slightly.

If Halden had truly pushed back the demons and removed that threat, ordinary life across Atlantis would benefit—countless lives spared from war.

But for him, it might not all be good.

Garoth never forgot that he rose from chaos.

Before he slept, Halden was consumed by the demon calamity and had no attention for the surface; they even abandoned the central continent.

It was precisely Halden’s predicament that opened space for his development.

Otherwise, the Aola Kingdom confined to the Romanian Plains could never have satisfied his needs.

If Atlantis returned to its old order, how would Halden view a growing kingdom? How would they regard a crowned-level dragon who displayed destiny’s might while still young and growing?

Would they see it as a threat?

Would they try to eliminate a potential rival?

Garoth knew Halden cooperated with him out of dire need; if demons were truly driven back and crisis resolved, he could shift from “ally” to “liability.”

He kept these thoughts private.

He looked at Gordon and asked, “Anything else major happen while I slept these fifty years?”

Gordon thought and said, “Two things are worth mentioning.”

“Speak.”

“First: the White Scourge in the Cold Water Ocean.”

Gordon’s expression grew serious; even his tail stilled.

He lowered his voice: “Wanfa White Dragon has been stirring up trouble in the Cold Water Ocean; her arrogance is far greater than before.”

“She used to conceal herself, moving in shadows. Now she hardly hides, hunting legendaries openly—sea, sky, coast—any legendary she encounters won’t escape.”

Garoth’s aura tightened.

Wanfa White Dragon.

A destiny dragon—few destiny-ranked exist on planet Bernardo; Wanfa was one of them, bearing titles like Hitherfell the End of Winter and White Scourge.

She had taken the Cold Water Ocean as her hunting ground.

Gordon’s face hardened as he continued,

“The kingdom has stationed forces along the far-north coastline just in case. I dispatched extra patrols and arranged legendaries on rotation. People watch the sea daily; if anything abnormal appears they signal at once.”

Garoth nodded slightly.

“Keep a tight eye on the Cold Water Ocean,” he said. “You don’t need heavy garrisons—withdraw some legendaries, send more scouts, set up eyes. Track her movements.”

“Wanfa White Dragon targets legendaries, not ordinary beings.”

“As long as we don’t lead legendaries to her maw, she won’t necessarily provoke us. And if she truly attacks, ordinary legendaries won’t hold.”

“Understood.”

Gordon nodded and then resumed with the second matter.

“Second: the Lord of Thunder and the Raging Tides Dragon Domain.”

Garoth changed into a more comfortable posture, foreclaws crossed, head rested, and asked, “They fought?”

“Yes, they did.”

Gordon spoke with a hint of schadenfreude.

“The Bronze Dragon King of the Raging Tides Domain never joined the fray, but even so, the Lord of Thunder was thoroughly thrashed.”

“The Metal Dragons coordinated well, advancing and retreating in step, crushing the Blue Dragon hosts into rout.”

“I heard the Breckton Kingdom lost three legendary dragons, and encouraged by the Metal Dragons, those once oppressed kingdoms rose up—today one declares independence, tomorrow another expels its garrison.”

“Breckton is in chaos now.”

“The Lord of Thunder can handle the front but not the rear; life is hard for him.”

Garoth listened quietly.

Within dragon domains, aside from destiny dragon kings, some crowned-level dragons were also formidable.

Even if the Bronze Dragon King did not intervene, if the Metal Dragons resolved to oppose the Lord of Thunder wholeheartedly, it would be a serious headache.

Breckton’s rule had long been heavy-handed; popular resentment had brewed. When the Raging Tides struck, internal fires erupted unsurprisingly.

Gordon watched Garoth’s expression and continued:

“Most amusingly, the Lord of Thunder once sent a dragon to beg us for help—wanted us to send troops.”

“Oh?” Garoth’s eyes narrowed with interest.

“That was over a decade ago,” Gordon said. “A blue dragon came as his envoy. The terms were generous, but I refused.”

He looked at Garoth with a bit of difficulty in his tone:

“At the time I thought you were asleep; the kingdom should not entangle itself in disputes of that magnitude.”

“No matter which side we helped, we’d offend the other. Best to stay out and let them fight it out.”

“Brother, I did right in refusing, didn’t I?”

Garoth nodded, a flash of approval in his dragon eyes.

“Right. You did well.”

Gordon visibly relaxed, tail wagging again.

“I agonized for days after refusing, couldn’t sleep, fearing I’d erred. Now hearing you approve, I’m relieved.”

He paused, then sighed:

“During these years managing the kingdom, I lived on edge, afraid something would go wrong.”

“Look—haven’t my scales faded? I’m so tired. I couldn’t even enjoy fine food or proper rest; several times I’d barely shut my eyes before urgent matters called.”

“Now that you’re awake, I can finally put the burden down.”

At this, Gordon happily flicked his tail, eyes narrowed in delight, already picturing how he’d enjoy life.

That could not do.

Besides, wouldn’t you hand the reins off?

Garoth glanced at him calmly and said,

“No. The task of maintaining the kingdom’s daily operation remains yours for now.”

Gordon’s face fell instantly; his tail stopped wagging, ears drooped.

He protested, “Brother, you can’t do that! I’ve slaved for decades—I deserve rest, right? Sorog and the others can take over when they wake. You’re the emperor—why should I keep managing?”

His voice held grievance; his eyes were wide in disbelief.

“You did exceedingly well.”

Garoth’s expression turned serious, interrupting him.

“Listen, during my sleep you kept the kingdom in meticulous order.”

“You managed resources well; the kingdom remained secure; external affairs were handled adeptly... your ability surpassed my expectations.”

Gordon’s mouth opened then closed. He wanted to speak but didn’t know what.

“When Sorog and Samantha awaken they will be astonished by your performance. They’ll see that during their slumber you single-handedly held the kingdom together. Not everyone could do that.”

“Brother...”

“Therefore, continue. The kingdom’s affairs remain your responsibility.”

Garoth said, watching Gordon intently.

“Gordon, let me see your limits. As my brother, I believe you can do even more—to make the world remember none of us were mediocre.”

He paused, then asked, “Do you accept?”

Gordon was silent a moment, then straightened his chest and answered solemnly:

“I accept!”

His voice rose higher than before, his scales brightened, and a new gleam lit his eyes.

“Don’t worry—I will govern the kingdom well! I won’t disgrace you!”

Garoth nodded in satisfaction.

He waved a claw and said, “Go. The feast isn’t over. Enjoy wine and food, then begin again.”

Gordon lifted his head, turned, brimming with spirit as he strode toward the feast’s center.

His steps were light, tail high—completely different from his earlier exhausted posture.

Halfway there he turned and nodded at Garoth, then strode among the dragon throng, his cheerful laughter soon ringing out.

Garoth watched his back, the corners of his mouth tilting.

Sometimes getting dragons to work doesn’t require force—just telling them they’re important is enough.

Time passed.

Days later the feast wound down.

The great dragons and lords rose one by one, exchanging farewells.

Some who were friendly nudged each other with heads or tapped companions’ backs with tails.

Massive silhouettes flew across the sky, blotting out the sun, then scattered to the corners of the world. Attendants began clearing the aftermath, collecting empty trays, cleaning marks from the floor, wiping the stone slabs scarred by claws.

The hall gradually fell quiet.

Garoth left early and entered his private little world.

It was an independent space with no others—only him. Barren land stretched to the horizon; the sky was gray, with neither sun nor stars, the silence broken only by wind.

The Red Iron Dragon stood upon this wasteland.

He stretched his body and assessed his condition inside and out.

In size, his full length had increased from around fifty meters before his sleep to fifty-six meters.

A six-meter gain might sound trivial, but for such a behemoth it was a total remake.

Not only length.

Width, height, and thickness had all increased in tandem. His trunk grew more massive, limbs more powerful; his wings spread wider, and muscular texture showed through the thick scales.

His tonnage had risen at least thirty percent.

“My weight... should be around sixty thousand tons,” the Red Iron Dragon thought.

He had not precisely measured, but his estimate was likely close.

Length and weight aside, Garoth focused his mind and sensed his Dragon Pearl.

Now a mixed piece of news stood before him.

“My Dragon Pearl evolved too, but its outcome is skewed.”

“Its energy reserve increased; upon revival it can fully restore me to peak state, not just near-peak. The problem is... I can no longer resurrect using the energy stored in it.”

Garoth’s face reflected deep thought.

Perhaps because before sleeping he had trained excessively to develop the Explosive Qi trait, each training session had stimulated the Dragon Pearl and driven an unexpected evolution.

Its contained energy had become extremely active.

If previously the Dragon Pearl’s energy was like a calm lake—absorbed perfectly for revival—now its energy was like a raging sea, storming, impossible to use for healing.

Forced absorption would tear the body apart instead of repairing it.

Inability to resurrect was catastrophic.

But why he called the news ambiguous was because his own trait had changed.

Undying Life.

No matter what wounds or restrictions, even if the body were torn to pieces, or even under suppression preventing resurrection... you still live on until your energy is entirely exhausted.

“Before I could at least resurrect once via the Dragon Pearl; now it’s until my body’s energy is depleted.”

Garoth did not need repeated tests to understand this effect.

His current Undying Life trait was simple in essence: he would ignore lethal damage.

As long as he had not exhausted his energy, he would not die.

Previously, being killed often meant fatal injuries—beheading or being torn apart—that directly ended his life regardless of remaining energy.

Now it was different.

Unless he completely burned through his energy, he would not die. Even if his body were splintered, as long as a sliver of energy remained, he could persist with consciousness, manipulate the fragments, and continue fighting.

“This is actually an enhancement, even a metamorphosis, though it means I can’t repeatedly trigger rebirth via the Dragon Pearl. There are pros and cons.”

Garoth thought.

The Born-from-Death trait had also changed—it had fused with Unyielding Perseverance and grown stronger.

Born from Death.

Most damage would no longer impose weakness, slowness, or dizziness.

The lower your life, the closer to death, the more power you could unleash—across the board increases. When infinitely close to death, you could erupt with power far beyond your limits.

“Not only those two—other traits changed and were strengthened on the original basis.”

Garoth shifted attention to his other traits.

Colossus Stance.

Rage, Bloodburst, Crimson Lotus...

Your body can super-giantize in these states, gaining massive boosts to life ceiling and attributes. These three combat states can now all be triggered simultaneously without internal conflict; instead they enhance each other, weaving into a more ferocious torrent.

“Perhaps because in fights at the legendary level I rarely activated these states in sequence.”

“Usually I ignited them all in the shortest time.”

“Now it’s effectively a three-state fusion, a direct qualitative change. Previously, state conflicts meant three parts of power could only output two and a half; now they can output four, even five.”

Garoth pondered.

He should name the new state of threefold unity, but he had not decided yet; he wasn’t in a rush—there was time.

Before long Garoth reviewed his traits.

Overall, it came down to three traits—Born from Death, Undying Life, and Colossus Stance—having undergone major changes, leaping to a brand new level from their prior bases.

Other traits remained stable, with no major alterations.

“From legendary to high legendary is a matter of quantity; high legendary to crowned-level is a qualitative change. Sodrian’s time power strengthened upon crowned ascension, a qualitative mutation.”

“From crowned-level to destiny, destiny to Immortal... trait count won’t increase but decrease—fusion, refinement, sublimation.”

Garoth thought on what the inheritance had mentioned.

Ordinarily, only one trait or aspect of a domain would qualitatively transform when ascending to crowned-level.

In him, three items leapt simultaneously.

More unusually, the fusion and refinement that should happen at the destiny stage occurred early.

Was this good or bad?

Garoth considered and thought it probably good—early fusion meant earlier and stronger power. As for inability to resurrect via the Dragon Pearl, with a new Undying Life trait, perhaps he did not need the Pearl as before.