The Red Dragon Lord is OP, but Insists on a Pop Culture Invasion!

It had to be said, a golden and a red dragon walking down the street was quite a striking sight.

Everyone in Winter City knew about the Red Dragon who owned a factory. But now, a Golden Dragon had appeared, and the passersby who saw her couldn’t help but speculate about her origins.

Fortunately, draconic races had a fearsome reputation. Some people kept their distance and took pictures, but no one dared to get close and cause trouble.

Getting bitten by one of them would be a lot more serious than a dog bite.

The concert was being held on the shoals by the river. The area was wide open, with enough space for over a thousand people to jump and dance to the music.

On the river’s surface, many workers were busy collecting and storing ice to rebuild the Ice and Snow Paradise next year.

Stored in a cool, shady spot, covered with quilts, and preserved with a little bit of magic, nearly eighty percent of the ice would remain even after an entire summer.

This way, they could start building ice sculptures with the stored ice next year before the river completely froze over, allowing the park to open earlier.

There wasn’t much work in Winter City at the moment, so anyone who could swing a hammer and chisel was out on the ice. A day of ice harvesting paid 10 Copper Coins.

Two workers, taking a short break, chatted as they watched the dense crowd gathering on the riverbank.

"Can you even understand that stuff they’re singing?"

"What’s not to understand? I can sing the ice harvesting shanty too." He was referring to a song from *Frozen* that was often played during musical events.

"Who asked you about that? I’m talking about the stuff they play that’s all SSSKRRT and CRASH-BANG-CLANG, with all the roaring and howling."

Zor Rock hadn’t yet achieved all-ages appeal.

"Why worry about it? There’s a lot of stuff young people like these days that we don’t get."

"Whoa, am I seeing things?" he asked, pointing at the gold and red figures on the ice wall. "Are those two dragons here to listen to the music?"

"Maybe they evolved," the other man said, taking a hard puff from his pipe. Ever since he’d realized that a whole bunch of people were coming to the Northern Domain just for tourism, nothing surprised him anymore.

’Who comes here for a vacation? It makes no sense.’

"What? Evolved?"

"You haven’t heard? Some Grand Scholar published a theory. It says something about how all species evolved bit by bit. Whatever parts you use often, your descendants will have more developed versions of those parts."

"That’s nonsense. By that logic, since I’ve been a blacksmith my whole life, my son should’ve been born with thick arms, right?" He scoffed at the idea.

"Why are you getting mad at me? Go debate the Grand Scholar. They’re having a public debate in the newspapers. If you win, there’s a reward. Your son wouldn’t have to be a blacksmith anymore."

"If I could write that many words, I would," the blacksmith said.

’Life is getting more and more inconvenient if you can’t read,’ he thought. ’Newspapers, Demon Vision, games, and that "social circle" thing... you need to be literate for everything these days.’

Even the Zog Factory preferred to hire literate workers, who earned a few more Copper Coins a week than illiterates like him.

It was impossible not to be jealous. He used to wonder why knowing how to read a few words meant someone could earn more than him.

His father was a blacksmith, and his grandfather was a blacksmith. The trade had been passed down through the generations, built entirely on honest work and excellent craftsmanship, earning them a great reputation in the city.

In his eyes, the young punks smithing in the factory had far inferior skills.

But then he discovered that those guys could build new things just by looking at blueprints, while he could only fumble his way through creating something he’d never seen before based on a description.

’They do have some skill,’ he conceded to himself.

He wanted to learn, too. Who would say no to more money? So he signed up for the night school run by the Zog Factory.

However, he had overestimated his own eagerness to learn. Plus, the classes were at night. He always went in wide awake and slept until he heard the bell signaling the end of class.

So far, the only thing he had learned was how to write his own name, and he’d only managed that by asking the teacher after the first class.

Still, it allowed him to pass as an educated man among his fellow blacksmiths.

While others used a thumbprint to sign large orders, he could sign his name.

"The priests from the Church would surely love to debate him. That Grand Scholar might just ’vanish into thin air’ one of these days."

The blacksmith’s entire grievance with the Church stemmed from his resentment that they didn’t have to pay taxes.

"This is why I tell you to read more. The ones in the Church who claim the Magic Goddess created all things with magic are just the Orthodox Faction.

"Then there’s the New Lord Faction. They claim the Magic Goddess only created magic as a part of the world, and everything else arose naturally, which makes other gods useless.

"That scholar is funded by the New Lord Faction. He’s trying to prove that the Alien Gods are useless." The man knocked out his pipe, ready to get back to work. There was a bonus for working overtime at night.

"Yeah, you know everything. If you’re so smart, how come you’re out here harvesting ice for extra cash just like me?" the blacksmith shot back resentfully.

Just as the two were about to head further out onto the ice, a voice called out from the shore.

"Hello, could I ask how much you get paid for harvesting ice?"

They turned to see several young men and women dressed in expensive furs.

The two workers glanced at each other, wondering why these people, who had spent a fortune to come to this dump, were asking such a question. They certainly didn’t look like they were hurting for 10 Copper Coins a day.

Still, out of politeness, the blacksmith answered, "10 Copper Coins during the day, plus 5 Copper Coins at night."

He was referring to the bonus for working overtime until 10 p.m.

"Here you go," the young man said, pulling out 15 Copper Coins.

The blacksmith was confused.

"Go on, take it. Didn’t you say it was 15 Copper Coins for the night? Now, give me that tool. Time to have some fun harvesting ice! How do you use this thing? Quick, teach me," the young man urged.

The two men on the ice looked at each other again, feeling thoroughly bewildered by the world.

"What else can we do? Just take it. We’ve got dragons coming to listen to music. What haven’t we seen at this point?" he urged the blacksmith. "If you don’t want it, I’ll take it."

「The evening wind blew as the sky grew dark.」

It was obviously colder at night than during the day. The crowd at the musical event huddled closely together, like a flock of penguins.

But the freezing temperatures couldn’t dampen their irrepressible enthusiasm.

Several beams of light shot into the night sky, and the crowd roared, signaling the start of the show.

Sitting on the ice wall, Zog, who had one of the only two elevated viewpoints in the entire venue, pulled an alchemically-made glow stick from the Treasure Chest Monster beside him. It was a cool, ice-blue color.

Using the Floating Disc Technique to elevate oneself was forbidden within the venue, but Zog and Furin could fly, making their "private box" on the ice wall seem particularly distinguished.

"Here," Zog said, handing the glow stick to Furin.

"What’s this?"

"It’s for cheering. You wave it around during the songs to build up the atmosphere," Zog explained. "This is the Underground Discard limited edition color. I sold a ton of these to the fans for a good price."

"You really know how to rake in the cash," Furin remarked with sincere admiration.

"Thank you for the compliment."

Amid the crowd’s cheers, the performance officially began.

The song "Let It Go" began to play as a masked female singer walked onto the stage.

By now, this song was practically the anthem of the Northern Domain. It was played every day, though usually at the end of the show—making it the Northern Domain’s unofficial closing theme. But now, they were using it to open.

On either side of the stage were two massive screens, displaying a real-time, magnified view of the performance.

As the song reached the chorus, the singer removed her mask, and the audience’s singalong immediately turned into a scream.

It was the actress who played Elsa, Gelda herself.

After the song ended, Gelda took a moment to catch her breath. Despite rigorous practice, singing that song was still a bit strenuous for her.

After a few seconds, she declared with great energy, "Good evening, Winter City!"

Her greeting, carried by an Amplification Spell, spread throughout the entire venue, only to be drowned out by the audience’s applause and cheers.

She waited for nearly two minutes until the audience quieted down a little.

"Thank you all for coming to the Northern Domain," Gelda continued. "To show our gratitude, we have even more surprises in store for you today."

Suddenly, the powerful strum of an electric guitar ripped through the air.

"Let’s welcome the best Zor Band, the representatives of rock music, the trendsetting leaders of music—Underground Discard!"