harleyscars Page 158
Page 158
Casalos was leading Kara in clearing out the last batch of undead creatures; these skeletal figures were puppets controlled by some old man. It was their existence that allowed Charleson to uncover the old man's true nature.
"The seventh wave." Kara gracefully shook off the bone fragments from her wing membranes, the flying debris whistling through the air and scattering in a whirlwind whipped up by her dragon wings. "The strength of these undead creatures increases so predictably, from skeletons to death knights, it's almost like they're deliberately testing our strength... Didn't you dislike fighting on the ground?"
"That old bastard knows we're coming, this is his way of intimidating us." Casalos shook his head. "If I could fly, that old bastard probably would never show his face again. Besides, this isn't even a fight."
"A show of force?" Kara chuckled. "An ancient relic that's been hiding in the shadows for tens of thousands of years, actually thinks he's something."
"Don't underestimate it. None of those who have lived this long are simple. This fellow, known as the 'Hermit,' is one of the oldest beings on the entire continent of Faerûn, besides the gods."
They continued deeper into the valley, and the surrounding scenery grew increasingly eerie. The once lush vegetation gradually withered, as if its life force had been completely drained away. Scattered on the ground were the skeletons of various creatures, some looking quite fresh, others already weathered into powder. A stench of decay and death permeated the air, making the dragon instinctively uneasy.
"This place really makes dragons uncomfortable," Kara wrinkled her nose. "The concentration of negative energy is almost as high as a necromancer's laboratory."
"Normal." Casalos surveyed his surroundings. "A creature that has lived for tens of thousands of years has accumulated enough deathly aura to pollute the entire area. But this also means we've found the right place."
The valley deepened, and the road became increasingly rugged. Strange symbols were carved into the rock walls on either side, some resembling ancient script, others mere meaningless graffiti. Casalos noticed that these symbols spanned a vast range of ages, the oldest possibly tens of thousands of years old, while the newest appeared to be several hundred.
"It seems we're not the only ones visiting it." Kara also noticed the traces. "These symbols... there's Common, Dwarven, Elvish, and some I don't recognize at all."
"That's normal," Casalos repeated. "The longer you live, the more you naturally know. The fact that Samasser was able to find it means it's quite well-known in certain circles."
Finally, at the end of the valley, they saw a massive rock face. This rock face was as smooth as a mirror, a stark contrast to the rough rocks around it. Even more eerie, the surface of the rock face seemed to be slowly writhing, as if it were not hard stone, but the skin of some living creature.
"This is it." Casalos stopped and raised his voice. "Come out, hermit. Stop hiding, I know you're in there."
The rock wall continued to undulate, but there was no response.
"I'm here to ask a few questions," Casalos continued. "If we cooperate, everything will be fine. If we don't cooperate..."
It didn't finish its sentence, but the threat was already quite clear.
The rock wall finally reacted. A crack appeared out of nowhere, growing larger and larger until it formed an opening large enough for a large creature to pass through. From the darkness, a figure slowly swam out.
It was a gigantic creature over a hundred meters long. It had a serpentine body, but a pair of tattered dragon wings grew from its shoulders—the wing membranes were long gone, leaving only a skeletal supporting structure. Although its forelimbs were degenerate, they still retained sharp claws, each as long as a spear.
The most bizarre thing about it is its appearance. Its body, which should be covered with scales, is covered with protrusions that resemble bone fragments. These "scales" are not ordinary keratin, but real bone structures, each one like a bone spur growing from the inside, giving it a morbid and terrifying feel. Its head is even more bizarre, with features of a snake and the majesty of a dragon. One of its two backward-curving horns is broken, and the other is covered with cracks.
Shattered Serpent Dragon - Hermit.
"What a rare guest." The enormous serpentine dragon lazily raised its head, its eerie green vertical pupils filled with languor and disdain. "It's been so many years since a dragon has disturbed my peace. These youngsters these days are getting more and more ignorant of etiquette, lacking even basic manners."
Its voice was like the friction of rocks, carrying the vicissitudes of time. With each word it spoke, the bony scales emitted a subtle friction sound, which sent chills down the spine of the dragon.
"Politeness?" Casalos sneered. "Are we that familiar? Or do you think I'll give you a friendly look just because I use some honorifics?"
Before the words were even finished, its body had already moved. The teenage Iron Dragon literally transformed into a bolt of lightning, instantly traversing a distance of tens of meters and leaping to the tip of the serpent dragon's bone stump.
The hermit clearly hadn't expected its opponent to be so direct. It tried to back away, but it was too late.
boom!
The immense impact shook the entire valley. Casalos's four claws pressed firmly against the serpent dragon's head, the tremendous force slamming it into the ground. The hard rock shattered like tofu under the impact, sending debris flying and dust billowing, creating a crater several meters deep in the ground.
"What—" The hermit was completely stunned. It had lived for tens of thousands of years and seen countless dragons, but no dragon had ever dared to treat it like this. What shocked it even more was that this iron dragon, which looked to be only in its adolescence, possessed such outrageous strength.
It struggled, its massive body twisting and turning, trying to break free from Casalos's hold. Its bony scales rose, sharp as knives, attempting to slash at the dragon claws pressing down on its head. But Casalos's scales were harder than it had imagined; the bony spikes could only leave shallow scratches on the silvery-white scales.
"Stop struggling," Casalos said coldly, raising his other forepaw high, its tip radiating terrifying power. "I ask, you answer. Too much nonsense, and I'll tear these bones out of your way one by one."
The hermit still wanted to resist, but Casalos had lost patience and slashed with his wings.
Click!
A crisp cracking sound rang out, and the hermit let out a painful roar. It wasn't ordinary pain; it was an excruciating agony that struck at the very soul. Its bony scales were not merely defensive organs, but an integral part of its long life, each scale connected to its nervous system.
"Stop! Stop!" The hermit finally gave up resisting, lying at the bottom of the pit, green blood trickling from the corner of its mouth. "What do you want?"
Casalos eased his pressure slightly, but remained poised to attack again: "It's simple, answer a few questions. Answer honestly, and you can keep your old bones."
Kara watched this scene silently from the edge of the pit, her scales trembling slightly and emitting a strange buzzing sound. Casaloz's "fight first, then talk" attitude made her tremble all over, and she couldn't help but tighten her thighs: that's right, when dealing with an ancient monster that has lived for tens of thousands of years, conventional negotiation methods are indeed useless.
"You…" The hermit struggled to raise his head, his pupils, seemingly imbued with spiritual power, reflecting both anger and fear. "Fine, you win. Ask away, what do you want to know?"
"First question," Casalos looked down at it, his tone flat and devoid of any emotion, "In recent years, have any human mages come to you to inquire about the Dragon's Madness Lock?"
The hermit's vertical pupils contracted slightly. It had been playing the role of a charlatan for many years, and countless people had come to it with questions, but the young Iron Dragon's question was indeed somewhat unexpected.
"How did you know…?" It instinctively wanted to ask, but seeing Casalos's slightly raised wing, it immediately changed its words, "Yes, a human mage did come by."
"When?" Casalos pressed.
"Let me think..." the hermit tried to recall. For it, which had lived for tens of thousands of years, the events of a few years ago were as clear as yesterday. "It was probably two years ago, in the summer. Yes, two years ago, I remember it very clearly, because that day was the day I shed my scales."
Two summers ago—Casaros quickly calculated the timeline and deduced the progress of Project Samaster. If information on the location of the Dragon Maniac Lock had already begun two years ago, then combined with the recent surge in resource procurement…
"What did that human mage look like?" Casalos continued to ask.
"Very ordinary," the hermit replied. "Medium build, brown hair, looks to be in his forties or fifties. He wore a grey robe, nothing special. If it weren't for the unusual question he asked, I wouldn't remember him at all."
Samasser was clearly in disguise; as the Harpists' League's most wanted criminal, he certainly wouldn't show his true face.
"What else did he ask you?"
"It's all about the Dragon's Madness Lock," the hermit said with a hint of disdain. "The principles of the lock, its location, how to move it, and all that. Does he think I know that? Those cheap, pointy-eared contraptions, how could I possibly know!"
In the hermit's mind, elves were the true "inferior beings".
Although the Serpent Dragons are classified as sub-dragons by contemporary scholars of Faerûn, and even most dragons today consider them so, they are actually a very ancient and dominant race, once the rulers of the continent of Faerûn. The rise of the dragons was achieved through bloody wars, but even the dragons were merely newcomers in the eyes of the Serpent Dragons… Yes, the old man Casaloz found was a deserter from the war between the dragons and the Serpent Dragons. (The last two lines appear to be unrelated and possibly machine-generated text.)
"What did you tell him?" Casalos pressed.
"What could I tell him?" the hermit asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "I just told him things everyone knows—the cycle of Dragon Frenzy, which occurs roughly every hundred years; the symptoms during an outbreak, where all dragons go berserk and attack each other; and some patterns I've observed over the years, such as the places that are affected first each time Dragon Frenzy strikes."
"Anything else?"
"And..." the hermit paused, "Oh, right, I also told him that if he really wanted to know the secret of the Lock, it might be more useful to go to those winged, pointy-eared descendants. After all, it was something their ancestors created, and they might still have some records of it."
What was his reaction?
"He seemed quite disappointed," the hermit recalled. "He probably felt like he'd made a wasted trip. But he said something strange as he left."
"What did you say?"
"He said, 'Looks like we still have to find that tentacle-covered creature.'" The hermit scoffed. "Tentacles-covered? Hmph, who knows what that is. But I'm curious, you don't want to ask me about the secret of the Dragon's Mad Lock? That's something specifically designed to deal with you."
"Do you think you can answer my question?" Casalos scoffed. "Do you know the location of the Arctic Fortress, the specific structure of the Enchanted Lock spell, or the source of the Dragon Madness Curse?"
It swayed the tip of its tail, pondering the meaning of "the tentacle-covered creature," and roughly knew where Samasser had gone afterward.
"Is that all you know?" Casalos finally confirmed.
"That's all." The hermit nodded. "Now, can you release me?"
Casalos gave it a deep look, then released its paw. The hermit immediately scrambled out of the pit, cautiously retreating back into the crevice, however…
"What's going on?" the hermit suddenly stopped. "You brat, what have you done?"
"I only agreed to let you go, I didn't say you could leave, did I?" Casalos sat up on the ground, turning his head to look at the old snake that had lived for tens of thousands of years.
10. Strong
"What do you mean?" The shattered serpent dragon narrowed its eyelids, its eerie green vertical pupils shrinking to slits. The bony scales crackled and rubbed together, like thousands of fragments of bone colliding. Each sharp sound was a harbinger of death, echoing through the valley. Its massive body arched slightly, its spine bulging like a mountain about to erupt. Its tattered wings instinctively spread halfway—covered with the scars of time, some revealing the bare bone. This was the prelude to battle. "You really think I'm afraid of you…?"
Before the words were even finished, its colossal body, exceeding a hundred meters in length, suddenly twisted. In that instant, the entire valley trembled. The rock walls shattered under the immense force, countless fragments of rock shooting out like cannonballs, each carrying kinetic energy capable of piercing steel. The air was torn apart, emitting a sharp whistling sound. Simultaneously, a putrid aura of death spewed from its mouth—negative energy accumulated over tens of thousands of years, dark and viscous, flowing through the air as if it were a tangible substance. Wherever it passed, even the rocks began to decay, turning into a grayish-white powder that drifted away. This deathly breath was enough to instantly afflict any living creature with a deadly disease; even a dragon would find it difficult to withstand.
Casalos merely shifted slightly, his movement as graceful as dodging a falling leaf. A dim, luminous glow emanated from his silvery-white scales, a light that was neither dazzling nor swaying. The deadly pebbles struck him, clanging softly before sliding off without leaving a scratch. As for the deathly breath, it was instantly dissipated by some unseen force upon contact with his body, like ice meeting the sun, dissipating into a harmless black mist. Even the ground beneath his feet remained completely unaffected.
"Of course you're not afraid of me." Casalos took two steps forward slowly, positioning himself in front of Kara and shielding Goron behind him—seemingly casual, yet full of possessive intent.
It tilted its head, its iron beak making a slight clicking sound, like the Grim Reaper sharpening his scythe, its tone mocking, but more so condescending, "As an ancient guardian of mysteries who has lived for at least 35,000 years, breaking through the shackles of its own race to achieve its advancement, how could it fear a mere teenage iron dragon?"
The shattered serpent dragon suddenly froze. As if struck by lightning, its entire body trembled slightly. It slowly withdrew from its stance, preparing to attack again, its eerie green eyes fixed on Casalos, a complex mix of emotions flashing in its pupils—shock, anger, and a barely perceptible fear. Thirty-five thousand years—has it really been that long?
So ancient that it had almost forgotten it itself, a time of glory belonging to the ancient era, a testament to the most glorious period of the Serpent Dragon race. And now, a young Iron Dragon had uttered that ancient legend, one that no one knew anymore.
The air suddenly became heavy. Several distinct yet strangely synchronized dragon auras spread from all directions, surging into the valley like an invisible tide.
The dragon's might shared the same origin as the iron dragon before the serpent dragon, yet it didn't directly originate from Casalos; rather, it came from many other beings. From the cracks in the rock wall, from the shadows, and even from the depths of the passage it had just escaped from, one figure after another slowly appeared.
The first to appear was a kobold—no, it could no longer be simply called a kobold. It stood nearly two and a half meters tall, its entire body covered in large, silvery-white dragon scales similar to those of the Iron Dragon, its once slender frame now incredibly strong. Dragon wings unfurled from its back, like the cloak of a triumphant general. What shocked the Serpent Dragon most was its weapon: a dragon-striking spear over six meters long, the magical aura emanating from its blade even stinging the Serpent Dragon's senses of arcane magic.
"My lord!" The kobold half-dragon bowed fervently to Casalos.
From the serpent dragon's perspective, its voice was filled with an almost fanatical loyalty, and its eyes burned with the flames of faith, as if it were determined to give everything for Casalos.
Next came a grey dwarf half-dragon. He retained the robust physique typical of dwarves, but his height exceeded two meters, making him look more like some kind of giant. Silvery-white dragon scales completely concealed his original greyish-black skin, creating a striking contrast, making him look like he was wearing a magnificent suit of armor. A matching, enormous dragon scythe made the serpent dragon scales shimmer.
"The will of iron and fire will forever follow you, great ruler!" the gray dwarf roared, his voice as powerful as a war drum. His eyes held no cunning or treachery, only a burning desire for battle.
More half-dragons emerged, along with goblins, trolls, and even Kotō murlocs...
"Crush your enemies, tear apart all obstacles!" The roars of the half-dragons shook the heavens and the earth, their ferocious fighting spirit almost tangible.
Twelve figures, twelve legends. They formed a perfect circle, trapping the shattered serpent dragon in the center. Each half-dragon exuded an aura of legend, a power that transcended the boundaries of the mortal realm. But what truly made the serpent dragon tremble was the fanatical loyalty they possessed.
The hermit, drawing upon his 30,000 years of experience, assured him that it wasn't the result of coercion or brainwashing, but rather a heartfelt worship and devotion. The shattered serpent dragon's pupils suddenly contracted to pinpoints. Having lived for over 30,000 years and witnessed countless powerful beings, the scene before it still deeply shocked it. Not merely because these half-dragons were incredibly powerful—though the twelve legends were indeed a force to be reckoned with—but because their very existence was an impossibility.
For a dragon vein sorcerer to fully awaken the power originating from the dragon within them is no easy feat, and completing the advancement from a dragon vein creature to a half-dragon is an even more fundamental transformation of life itself. It requires not only immense power, but also a profound understanding of the dragon bloodline and specialized methods. Yet these twelve half-dragons before them have all completed this transformation, and they appear so perfect, without any distortion or flaw.
The dragon blood on their bodies was so pure and so dazzling that it could only mean one thing: Casalos possessed a complete method to awaken the dragon bloodline hidden within dragon-blooded creatures—a feat that seemed to have never been accomplished in the age of dragons.
"But you're afraid of them." Casalos's voice pulled him back to reality from his shock, his calm tone carrying an undeniable certainty.
The Shattered Serpent Dragon wanted to deny it, but the words wouldn't come out. Its body trembled slightly—not entirely from fear, but more from a complex mix of emotions. Anger, resentment, and a deep sense of powerlessness intertwined, creating an indescribable bitterness.
"Over thirty thousand years of languishing on the brink of extinction have worn away all the proud edges of your ancient, domineering race," Casalos continued, each word piercing the serpent dragon's heart like a sharp blade. Its voice wasn't loud, yet it echoed clearly throughout the valley. "You've grown accustomed to compromise, accustomed to retreat, accustomed to living in the shadows. Even when I trampled you underfoot, you never truly resisted, merely putting on a show. Now, facing twelve legendary half-dragons, can you still muster the resolve to fight to the death?"
The shattered serpent dragon's body began to tremble violently. Its bony scales rubbed together frantically, producing a piercing noise, like thousands of insects gnawing at bones. It opened its mouth, revealing gleaming fangs, each as thick as an arm, still coated with corrosive venom. A low roar came from deep within its throat, a resentment emanating from the very depths of its soul.
It wanted to refute, to prove that it was still the ancient overlord who once made even the dragon race tremble. It wanted to tell this arrogant young dragon that the honor of the serpent dragon race could not be desecrated.
but……
Its gaze swept over the twelve half-dragons. The kobold half-dragons were praying in hushed tones, their voices filled with religious fervor; the gray dwarf half-dragons were pounding their breastplates, producing rhythmic metallic clanging; the goblin half-dragons were exchanging words, occasionally letting out excited screams; and the troll half-dragons were stretching their muscles, the cracking of their joints echoing throughout the room.
They were all waiting, waiting for Casalos's command. At the Iron Dragon's command, they would pounce without hesitation, tearing it to shreds with their dragon-slaying spears. Those weapons… the Skeleton Serpent Dragon could sense the terrifying energy contained within them; they were definitely not ordinary magical weapons.
More importantly, it's really old.
Thirty-five thousand years have not only smoothed its edges but also exhausted its sharpness. The warrior who once dared to challenge the dragon's dominance is long gone, leaving only an old man hiding in a cave, making a living by selling a few mysterious knowledge. It can't even remember when the last real battle was—perhaps a thousand years ago? Two thousand years ago? Those memories have become blurred.
"I'll give you two choices," Casalos's voice interrupted its thoughts. The iron dragon continued its advance, its silvery-white scales becoming even more dazzling as the sun rose higher. "The first choice is to return to my territory with my retinue and serve as my historical advisor, using your knowledge and experience accumulated over thirty thousand years. In this way, besides that elusive 'freedom,' you will retain the wealth you've accumulated over thirty thousand years, your exalted status, and the life you cherish most."
The shattered serpent dragon's body trembled slightly. A historical advisor—this proposal had taken it by surprise. It had initially assumed the iron dragon desired its life, or to forcibly enslave it, turning it into a servile lackey. But now it seemed the other party valued the knowledge within its mind more, and was willing to grant it corresponding status and treatment.
"If you refuse," Casalos's tone suddenly turned cold, as biting as the polar wind, "then I'll kill you right here, and have them use their psychic powers to extract every memory from your soul, bit by bit, without leaving a trace. Then I'll store those memories in a crystal for me to examine at my leisure. As for the remnants of your soul…" it sneered, "let them drift in the void until they completely dissipate."
The twelve half-dragons took a step forward simultaneously.
boom!
The sheer force of their synchronized movements sent shivers down the entire valley. Spiderweb-like cracks appeared in the ground, and rubble tumbled down. They raised their dragon-striking lances, the tips aimed at the shattered serpent dragon. The runes on their weapons began to glow, energy began to gather, and the air was thick with the smell of ozone—a sign that powerful lightning was gathering.
"For the great ruler!" The twelve half-dragons roared in unison, their voices so powerful that the mountain walls trembled.
"What will you choose?" Casalos's voice returned to calm, as if his previous threat was merely stating a fact.
The Broken Serpent Dragon fell into a long silence. Its head slowly lowered, and its massive body ceased its attacking posture. The erect bony scales began to slowly flatten, emitting a soft rubbing sound. As the scales adhered, a shocking sight appeared.
Between the scales, strange creatures swarmed. Mucus, like glue, held them to the serpent dragon's body, while various fungi grew wildly in the dark, damp environment, forming colorful patches. Moss covered large areas like a green carpet, while lichen displayed a grayish-white, net-like structure. Most bizarrely, there were clusters of fine hairs, swaying gently in the breeze, as if they possessed their own life. (The last sentence is a nonsensical string of characters and doesn't translate directly.)
The entire shattered serpent dragon resembled a fallen ancient tree, its body covered in various parasitic plants and fungi. This was its true form—an ancient being that had lurked in darkness for so long that its body had begun to decay.
The shattered serpent dragon slowly raised its head. The anger and resentment in its eyes subsided, and its vertical pupils, which were enough to make any humanoid creature tremble, became clear, revealing a sense of relief as if it had finally laid down the burden that had weighed on its heart for tens of thousands of years. Perhaps realizing its predicament, or perhaps finally accepting reality, its body began to undergo further changes.
Its body began to slowly coil, forming an irregular circle. The process was slow, each movement seemingly incredibly difficult. The creatures parasitizing it emitted various strange sounds, some screaming, some groaning. The enormous head slowly lowered to its lowest point, exposing its most vulnerable neck. There, the scales were sparsest, and the pulsating blood vessels beneath could even be seen.
This is complete surrender. There are no rituals, no fancy gestures, just the most primal and direct expression—giving one's life into the other's hands.
"I... choose the first one." Its voice was hoarse and low, as if forced out from the depths of its throat. Each word seemed incredibly difficult to utter. "I'm willing... to be your 'historical advisor.'"
Having said this, the Broken Skeleton Dragon seemed to have exhausted all its strength, its massive body lying on the ground. Its bony scales made no sound, and even its breathing became faint. It lay there, awaiting its fate.
Casalos nodded in satisfaction. The sincerity of the Shattered Serpent Dragon was very clear. When an ancient being that had lived for more than 30,000 years was willing to put aside all its pride and dignity, such determination could not be faked.
"Very good." Casalos waved his wing claws, his tone returning to calm. "You made a wise choice."
It turned to the twelve half-dragons: "Pack it up, take it and its treasure back to Dragon Territory, and have the elders arrange a suitable residence for it. It is my historical advisor, so treat it appropriately. The food must be fresh, the dwelling spacious and comfortable, and it must be equipped with enough servants."
"Yes, Your Majesty!" The half-dragons bowed respectfully, their movements so synchronized as if they had practiced it a thousand times.
11. Specific time
Perhaps influenced by his past life, even as a dragon, Casalos is not used to accepting overly fanatical worship.