"The current Clan of Molten Iron is like a beggar holding a golden bowl," Garoth thought silently.
Selling raw mineral resources for processed goods ant incalculable loss of value, but given the clan's current state, this was the only viable trade thod.
This was also the reality for regions like the Ser Wilderness, convergence lands, and Permafrost Tundra.
With backward alchemical industries, they could only endure layers of exploitation, selling local resources cheaply to obtain expensive processed goods, while nations with advanced alchemical industries amassed vast quantities of basic resources through trade alone.
The nobles of the Lothrian Federation enjoyed calling wilderness clans "beasts" or "barbarians."
This ntality reflected the contempt of developed regions toward backward areas.
"The current situation is hard to change—we can only pin our hopes on future developnt."
After staying in the sulfur hills a while longer, Garoth explained the importance of alchemical industry to the red dragon Samantha. Without developing a powerful alchemical industry, their wealth would continue leaking away daily.
The re thought of wealth constantly slipping through their claws made the red dragon gnash her teeth. She wished she could split each day in two, devoting all her ti to advancing alchemical industry.
This served as powerful motivation for her.
Given draconic laziness, without proper incentives, she would surely work in fits and starts.
After leaving the sulfur hills, Garoth didn't return directly to Dragon Valley.
Having spent nearly all his ti on training and evolution, he decided to take a rare break by touring his territory.
Beyond the sulfur valley,
Garoth passed by the Giant's Ruined Fort.
It remained in ruins, though so of the decayed, cracked foundations had been replaced with new stone slabs.
The fort occupied an excellent location. The iron dragon Sorog had intended to renovate it using the relatively intact foundations, transforming it into a fortress suitable for giant creatures.
Initially,
he brought a group of followers to quarry and polish stone materials for construction nearby. But work halted soon after when they exhausted the small stone deposit they'd found.
Later,
Sorog personally searched for better stone deposits but instead accidentally discovered the gray magnetite mine, leading to subsequent events. After that, Sorog entered his dragon sleep, leaving the giant fortress project suspended.
"Let Sorog oversee this when he awakens."
Garoth rely observed briefly.
Supervising followers to build a fortress wasn't a task befitting the King of the Molten Iron Clan.
Soon after, Garoth arrived at the armored rhino ranch, where ogres were busy taming the beasts.
Under the watchful eyes of his comrades, an elite ogre warrior spat out the animal bones he'd been chewing. His several-ter-tall fra lumbered toward the center of the enclosure like a moving mountain of flesh.
A bone-armored rhino pawed the ground nervously, each hoof the size of a bowl kicking up clouds of dust with every stomp.
Not much larger than the ogre and not fully grown, it was at the perfect age for taming.
"Co at , beast!"
The ogre stomped the ground so hard his lower legs sank into the earth—a gesture the rhino interpreted as challenge, much like how they themselves threatened enemies by pawing the ground.
Enraged, the rhino lowered its head and charged at the ogre's abdon with its thick, sharp horns.
With a roar, the ogre grabbed the rhino's horns with his massive hands, engaging in a direct contest of strength.
As bestial bellows erupted, the ogre's muscles bulged violently, veins writhing like earthworms beneath his skin.
The rhino's front legs began trembling as its powerful neck was gradually forced sideways. Watching ogres pounded their weapons enthusiastically, making the ground shake beneath their feet.
Finally,
after several minutes, the ogre slamd the rhino to the ground.
When the beast rose again, its eyes held new wariness toward the ogre.
Instead of pressing his advantage, the ogre pulled out a salt block from his waist and crouched, beckoning the rhino forward.
When the rhino finally lowered its head to lick the salt from the ogre's palm, the spectators erupted in cheers, celebrating their comrade's successful taming.
Over a year had passed since the war with the Bloodhoof Clan.
After taking over the armored rhino ranch, the Starbreaker Maul warhost soon gained a new troop type—heavy cavalry—whose numbers had grown steadily during this period.
Unlike the light cavalry of the Crimson Iron Riders, they lacked mobility, serving purely as heavily armored shock troops.
As the vanguard of the Starbreaker Maul, when these knights and their monstrous mounts clad in full armor charged headlong into battle, they could smash through enemy formations like a raging flood.
"Ta armored rhinos beco mounts while untamable ones provide excellent at. But their breeding and growth aren't simple—the ranch needs more formal managent."
Garoth didn't land, rely observing from high within the thick cloud cover.
The Molten Iron Clan's utilization of ranches like this remained highly inefficient, leaving much room for improvent.
For example,
selecting the strongest, finest specins as breeding stock.
Using controlled breeding to optimize bloodlines over generations, or capturing other rhinoceros-type magical beasts for crossbreeding.
There was also formulating "milk powder," determining optimal pasture-to-blood-at ratios to shorten calves' growth cycles, and more.
Even culled individuals could serve purposes beyond food.
Their horns, bones, armor plating, even dung could be collected and repurposed separately.
Garoth had general ideas about such ranch managent, but implentation would be troubleso. With no ti to handle it personally, he planned to delegate it later to a clever subordinate.
Leaving the rhino ranch behind, Garoth continued his aerial inspection.
His wingbeats cast shifting shadows across various strongholds below until nightfall, when he finally returned to Dragon Valley.
This thorough inspection made Garoth realize:
While the Molten Iron Clan had grown substantially, many areas remained in their infancy with vast potential yet untapped.
"I still seem to be in the primitive accumulation phase,"
Garoth mused, gazing at the twin moons casting their cool light.
The red iron dragon felt no impatience, only serenity—until an overwhelming drowsiness suddenly surged over him like tidal waves, making his eyelids grow heavy.
He wasn't surprised by this fatigue.
The dragon sleep of adolescence had arrived.
He'd already issued orders—during this period, the Molten Iron Clan would sheathe its claws, developing quietly without showing its fangs until his awakening.
Afterward,
Garoth first summoned the brass-silver dragon.
"You're entering dragon sleep?"
Deborah asked, observing the drowsy red iron dragon.
Garoth nodded, telling her: "Deborah, you're the only tal dragon in Dragon Valley, but compared to other evil dragons—"
He suddenly pressed a foreclaw against her shoulder armor. "—I trust you more."
"You're a reliable companion. I'm counting on you to stand guard during my sleep—allow no creature to approach or disturb ."
His expression was solemn and grave.
For the first ti, the brass-silver dragon felt truly valued.
She froze montarily before nodding fiercely, clenching her claws. "Rest assured, I'll guarantee your safe passage through the dragon sleep period."
Garoth repeated similar ssages, tailored to each dragon's temperant.
After instructing his chief subordinates on various precautions,
he finally retreated deep into Dragon Valley.
Behind Sorog's sleeping place lay a newly excavated cave.
Garoth entered, folding his wings and curling up. His wing mbranes wrapped around his vitals like curtains as consciousness gradually faded.
"This dragon sleep's duration is uncertain, but at minimum it will advance to young adulthood. I hope no major variables erge during this ti," he thought.
Wyrmling dragon sleep typically lasted three to five years—his had taken six.
Adolescent dragon sleep was longer, usually five to eight years.
Garoth estimated his would likely exceed eight years.
By draconic standards this wasn't long, but in the outside world it was enough for many changes—and variables—to occur.
This displeased Garoth, yet remained beyond his control.
"Elusive fortune, favor just once."
As drowsiness overwheld him, this muddled thought accompanied Garoth into slumber.
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