Iron Dragon's Advancement Journey

Page 184

　"The biggest problem is that you simply don't understand dragons. You don't understand our attack methods, our thought processes, or how to survive with such a significant size disadvantage. Your past victories were largely due to luck—you only encountered arrogant and foolish young dragons."

　"So how do you plan to train us?" Dorn asked, his tone challenging.

　Agatha smiled slightly: "You'll find out starting tomorrow. But before that, I want to tell you the most important principle."

　She paused, making sure everyone was listening attentively: "If the dragon you're facing doesn't arrogantly choose to land and toy with you, but instead cautiously launches a flight attack, you have absolutely no chance. Zero. Understand?"

　Will tried to argue, but Agatha raised her hand to stop him.

　"I know what you're trying to say—haven't you killed dragons before? Yes, but those dragons all made the same mistake: underestimating their opponents. They thought mere humans weren't worth taking seriously, so they landed to taunt you, giving you opportunities to get close. But what can you do if you encounter a cautious dragon that stays in the air, attacking with its breath and dives?"

　Silence. Because the answer is obvious—there's nothing that can be done.

　"So," Agatha continued, "the first lesson you must learn is how to exploit dragons' arrogance and pride, how to lure them to the ground with words, actions, or even feigning death. Remember, for small creatures like you, getting dragons to the ground is the prerequisite for everything."

　That night, Dorn lay in bed unable to fall asleep for a long time. Although his body had been healed, the pain he remembered remained vivid. He began to realize that this training might be far more brutal than he had imagined.

　At four o'clock the next morning, a piercing dragon roar echoed throughout the camp. The four of them practically rolled out of bed, hurriedly put on their gear, and rushed out of the room.

　Waiting for them were Aisen and two other Ayatirons.

　"Today's training objective: Survive an attack from a three-headed dragon for one hour," Eisen announced. "The rules are simple—we will attack with all our might, but we won't intentionally kill you. Of course, if you choose to die, that's a different story."

　Before they could react, the attack began. The three sub-iron dragons acted simultaneously, one responsible for air suppression, and the other two attacking on the ground.

　Just as Dorn was about to organize a defensive formation, he was forced to scatter and flee by a lightning breath. He rolled to dodge, but ended up rolling right into the attack range of another dragon. A huge dragon claw came crashing down on his head, and he could only raise the iron golem's arm to take the hit.

　Click!

　The metal arm emitted an ominous cracking sound, and Dorn felt as if his entire arm was about to be destroyed. But he had no time to check his injury, because the tail of the third dragon had already swept across.

　"Scatter! Don't huddle together!" he shouted, but before he could finish speaking, he was swept away.

　This wasn't training; it was a one-sided massacre. The four men were tossed around like balls, utterly helpless. Pavel tried to cast a healing spell, but each incantation was interrupted. Renn's harpoon flew out, but didn't even scratch the dragon's scales. Will tried to find a blind spot in the dragon's defenses, but quickly discovered there wasn't one—the three-headed dragon's coordination was flawless, leaving no blind spots.

　An hour felt like an eternity. By the time Eisen announced the end of training, all four were completely unconscious. Dorn's iron arm was utterly destroyed, Pavel's robes were torn to shreds, Ryan had a broken leg, and Will had passed out.

　"A terrible performance," Eisen commented. "You made the mistake all beginners make—trying to fight a dragon head-on."

　The treatment resumed. This time, Dorn noticed more details—the healers weren't using ordinary healing spells, but rather composite divine magic that combined multiple effects. While healing their injuries, they were also strengthening their bodies.

　"Can you feel it?" the high priest in charge of treatment said. "We're not just healing, we're transforming. Every injury and recovery is an opportunity for evolution."

　Sure enough, after the treatment, Dorn felt subtle changes in his body. His muscles were firmer, and his bones seemed stronger.

　"This is just the beginning," Agatha said as she appeared in the medical room. "Same time tomorrow, same training. Until you can hold out for an hour."

50. The dragon trains the man, and the man trains the dragon.

　"This is impossible!" Will finally exploded. "We're just humans, how could we possibly withstand an attack from a three-headed dragon for an hour?"

　"Who said you had to tough it out?" Agatha retorted. "I said 'survival,' not 'confrontation.' Learn to run, learn to hide, learn to use the terrain, learn to let the dragons fight each other. Use your brains."

　On the third day, the same training session began, but this time the four were smarter. Instead of trying to regroup, they scattered and fled, using the woods and rocks as cover to buy themselves as much time as possible.

　The effect was immediate—they held out for fifteen minutes before being wiped out.

　"There's been progress," Eisen unusually offered a positive assessment, "but it's far from enough. Do you know where the problem lies?"

　"Are we... still just holding on?" Pavel asked tentatively.

　"That's right. You're playing defensively, not creating opportunities." Eisen pointed to one of the drakes. "Like this one, it ignores everyone else while chasing Will. At that moment, Rein could easily attack its hind leg joints; it wouldn't cause much damage, but it would be enough to distract it."

　"But..." Renn wanted to say something.

　"No buts. In real combat, any method that can give you even one more second to live is worth trying."

　On the fourth day of training, Agatha personally participated. She transformed back into her dragon form, her enormous tungsten dragon body radiating an aura of oppression.

　"We're going to do something different today," she said. "I'll be on the ground, but you'll have to figure out a way to get me airborne. Hint: What is the thing dragons can't stand the most?"

　This question made the four of them think. Suddenly, something occurred to Dorn: "Was it...an insult?"

　"Clever." Agatha gave a dangerous smile. "Then, let's begin. Provoke me as much as you dare."

　This is a special lesson. The four must learn how to verbally provoke the dragon's sore spots, how to be threatening enough to make the dragon take them seriously, but without actually enraging it to the point of losing its mind.

　"You old dragon!" Will was the first to try. "Your wings can't even fly anymore, can they?"

　Agatha didn't move.

　"Too weak," she commented. "The longer a dragon lives, the better it can control its emotions. Try something more ruthless."

　Their attempts became increasingly outrageous. From questioning the dragon's power to mocking its wisdom, and then to insulting its lineage, Agatha remained unmoved, instead offering insightful commentary on their phrasing.

　Until Dorn said, "What, scared? Scared of being hurt by us 'lower creatures,' so you dare not fly up and fight head-on?"

　Agatha's eyes changed.

　"Very good." She slowly spread her wings. "You've succeeded. Prepare to face the consequences."

　Over the next twenty minutes, Dorn learned firsthand what it meant to "talk the talk." Agatha's attacks were precise and ruthless, each blow landing precisely on the most painful but not fatal spot.

　But the lessons were incredibly rewarding. They learned how to gauge situations, how to observe a dragon's reactions, and how to find a balance between provoking it and courting death.

　On the fifth day, the training content changed again. This time it was a theory lesson, held in a huge indoor training arena.

　"Now that your bodies are gradually strengthening, it's time to learn real combat skills." The instructor was a singing dragon, her voice surprisingly melodious. "First, how much do you know about dragons?"

　"It can fly, it can breathe fire," Will muttered to himself, "and it especially likes to eat people."

　Ge Long laughed: "With this level of understanding, no wonder you were beaten so badly. Listen carefully, today I'm going to teach you an analysis of dragons' fighting patterns."

　She unfurled a huge chart with detailed annotations of the dragon's body structure.

　"Dragons' attack methods can be categorized as follows: breath attacks, physical attacks, dragon's might suppression, magical abilities, and special abilities. Each category has different countermeasures."

　"Let's talk about breath first," Golong said, pointing to the chart. "Different types of dragons have different breath weapons. Red dragons use fire, blue dragons use lightning, green dragons use poison gas, black dragons use acid, and white dragons use ice. But did you know that the form of their breath can change?"

　She demonstrated on the spot that a breath she exhaled could sometimes be in a straight line, sometimes in a fan shape, and sometimes even curve under her control.

　"This requires additional magic power, so most dragons don't use it often. But in crucial moments, an unexpected breath attack can be fatal. You must learn to judge the type of breath attack by observing the dragon's preparatory movements."

　What followed was a long and detailed explanation. The frequency of the dragon's chest rising and falling when preparing to exhale, the characteristics of energy gathering in its throat, the pre-breathing time for different breaths... every detail could determine life or death.

　"Remember, you can't directly defend against the breath attack of a young dragon or higher," Ge Long emphasized. "The only way is to evade. And the key to evasion lies in anticipation."

　She had the four of them take turns simulating being exposed to her breath. Through repeated practice, they developed a conditioned reflex.

　"In terms of physical attacks," Golong continued, "biting, clawing, tail sweeping, and wing attacks are the basics. But the truly dangerous ones are combination attacks."

　She demonstrated a series of attacks: feigning a bite to attract attention, then actually striking the side with her claws, while simultaneously sweeping her tail to prevent escape, and finally finishing with a wing strike. The entire sequence was fluid and flawless.

　"This is just a basic combination. Experienced dragons will improvise based on their opponent's reactions. What you need to learn is to find that fleeting opening in this continuous attack."

　The training lasted a full day. The four men were exhausted, but they had to admit that the knowledge they gained was indeed useful.

　On the sixth day, Dorn had a special conversation.

　Agatha found him alone on a cliff outside the camp. As the sun set, the dragon-shaped Agatha was bathed in the golden afterglow.

　"Do you hate me?" she suddenly asked, "like you hate the red dragon that killed your parents?"

　Dorn remained silent for a long time. During the six days of hellish training, he had cursed the dragons more than once. But now, faced with Agatha's direct question, he found himself unable to simply say "yes."

　"I don't know," he finally answered honestly. "At first, it was hatred. But now... I don't know how to define this feeling."

　"That's progress," Agatha said. "Hatred can be a source of power, but blind hatred will only lead to your death. Tell me, when did you first awaken your dragon-slaying power?"

　"Fifteen years old," Dorn recalled. "That red dragon killed my parents and destroyed my village. I cried for three whole days in the ruins until I passed out. When I woke up, I felt that power."

　"Emotions are stirred, dreams are awakened." Agatha mused. "Clearly signs of divine blessing. Interestingly, this power can also be passed on to your companions."

　"Which deity do you think it is?"

　"I don't know," Agatha said frankly. "That's precisely what should make us wary. What is the purpose of a deity hiding their identity, granting mortals powers specifically against dragons?"

　She turned to Dorn: "Have you ever considered what would happen if this god turned his attention to Athelon in the future?"

　Dorn was stunned. He had never considered this possibility.

　You mean...?

　"I mean, we train you not just to fight dragon liches," Agatha's tone turned serious. "To stimulate and study your dragon-slaying powers is also to prepare for a possible future. If one day a large number of dragon slayers do emerge targeting Atheros, at least we'll know how to deal with it."

　"Aren't you afraid I'll tell others about this? Or..." Dorn paused, "...maybe become your enemy in the future?"

　"Can you?" Agatha asked in return.

　Dorn opened his mouth, but found himself unable to answer. In just six days, he could no longer simply categorize these alpha dragons as "enemies." They were harsh and cruel, but also honest and fair. More importantly, they treated him as a warrior worth investing in, not a tool to be disposed of at will.

　"See, even you're not sure," Agatha seemed to see through his thoughts. "That's why I choose to be honest. It's better to be open and honest than to be suspicious of each other. Strong people should have their own way of interacting."

　These words made Dorn think deeply. In the past, his world was black and white—dragons were enemies and had to be eliminated. But now, he began to realize that things were far more complicated than he had imagined.

　"May I ask you a question?" Dorn mustered his courage.

　"Ask away."

　"Why do you want to help us? I mean, the real reason."

　Agatha was silent for a moment, then said, "Because I believe the world needs balance. The greed and destruction of the chromatic dragons must be stopped, but that doesn't mean all dragons deserve to die. I hope that one day, dragons can truly coexist with other races, instead of being forever in opposition."

　"Is...that possible?"

　"I don't know," Agatha Christie readily admitted, "but if you don't even try, you'll never succeed. Training you is for both the present threats and the future possibilities."

　As night fell, two figures—a dragon and a human—lingered on the cliff for a long time. This conversation changed Dorn's perspective on training and his understanding of dragons.

　On the seventh day, the training entered a new phase—intensive professional skills training.

　"Physical prowess alone is not enough." The one in charge of training Dorne was a legendary warrior, also a half-dragon. "Your swordsmanship is too crude, and your use of the Iron Golem's arm is utterly terrible."

　The training that followed was an eye-opener for Dorn. He realized that the Iron Golem's arms weren't just for increasing strength; through special techniques, they could resonate, significantly enhancing their destructive power.

　"Watch closely," the instructor demonstrated. "The power doesn't start in the arms, but in the feet. The power of the earth travels up through the legs, accelerates at the waist, is transmitted through the shoulders, and finally explodes in the arms. Combined with the mechanical structure of the Iron Golem..."

　boom!

　With a single punch, a large hole was punched through the steel training dummy.

　"This is just the basics. The real essence lies in how to make the power to slay the dragon resonate with the Iron Golem's arm."

　Dorn studied with an insatiable thirst. He practiced each movement hundreds of times until it became muscle memory. His clothes were soaked with sweat, but he dared not slacken his efforts in the slightest.

　Meanwhile, Pavel is undergoing a different kind of training.

　"Your problem is that your spellcasting is too slow," said a priest of archbishop rank. "Facing a dragon, you don't have time to chant slowly."

　"But divine magic requires devout prayer..."

　"Wrong!" the instructor interrupted him. "The essence of divine magic is faith, not words. A true master can cast a spell in an instant. Watch—"

　The mentor said nothing, only closed his eyes. The next moment, a dazzling holy light erupted from his body, instantly enveloping the entire room.

　"Can you feel it? There are no lengthy prayers, no elaborate gestures. Only pure faith and will."

　Pavel was shocked. He had always thought that divine magic could only be performed through proper rituals, and now he realized how superficial his understanding had been.

　"But this requires immense mental strength and absolute faith in the divine," the instructor added. "The training ahead will be very painful. Are you ready?"

　Raine's training focuses on diversifying his attack methods.

　"All you can do is throw harpoons?" His mentor, an elven ranger, said, "That's too simplistic. Come, I'll teach you real ranged combat skills."

　Bows and arrows, crossbows, slingshots, throwing knives, javelins... each weapon has its unique uses. More importantly, it's about choosing the most suitable attack method based on the situation.

　"Ordinary arrows are useless against dragons. But if you aim for vital areas like the eyes and joints, and use special arrowheads..."

　The instructor demonstrated various special arrows: armor-piercing arrows, explosive arrows, grappling hook arrows, smoke arrows...

　"Remember, your goal isn't to kill the dragon—you're not strong enough for that. Your task is to harass, distract, and create opportunities."

　Will's training was the most unique.

　"What is the essence of the Wanderer?" His mentor was an ordinary-looking halfling.

　"Stealth? Ambush?"

　"Neither," the mentor shook his head. "It's survival. A good wanderer is one who survives."

　The training that followed was completely unexpected for Will. Instead of practicing stealth or ambushes, it was about learning how to take a beating.

　"You're too fragile. One Dragon's Might could paralyze you. So the first thing you need to learn is how to maintain your mobility in all kinds of adverse situations."

　Will is "tortured" in various ways—intimidation, paralysis, dizziness, fear... He has to learn to overcome every negative state.