Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon! Chapter 277: Contrast, the Dragon's Fishing Law Enforcement

Dusk slowly draped the land like a delicate veil, painting the horizon in brilliant hues.

The sunset blazed like fire, its heat spilling across the sky, laying a magnificent, resplendent tapestry over everything.

Inside Scorchsteel Fortress, the dragon gathering that had been going on for so ti was winding down. The clamor subsided, and the air settled into a dust-settled calm.

"Deborah."

The red iron dragon slightly tilted his enormous head, lowered his voice, and asked the brass-silver dragon lying quietly on the stone dais beside him, "Are you as fond of singing and dancing as that energetic Gold Dragon? Or..."

A hint of curiosity glead in his eyes: "...do you have other preferred 'roles' you like to lose yourself in?"

Taking on humanoid guises to live and adventure among humans.

That habit was far from being a unique eccentricity of Alberto the Gold Dragon.

It was almost a shared little fascination tucked away in the hearts of many tal Dragons—only that in depth of indulgence and willingness to fully commit, other tal Dragons tended to be more restrained and reserved compared to a Gold Dragon’s near-forgetful hunger for performance.

"No."

The brass-silver dragon Deborah answered crisply. "And to be honest, I'm not all that interested in singing and dancing themselves."

She paused slightly, as if recalling sothing, then continued thoughtfully: "Although, speaking of that, it does remind of my parents—they... seed to have had similar 'role' experiences."

"I heard quite a few amusing stories from them about their youthful adventures."

She adjusted her reclining posture and continued, "My father, Edri, most enjoyed playing a witty, sowhat flirtatious troubadour who loved plucking the lute in taverns."

"And my mother, Serena, took pleasure in playing a noblewoman of lofty birth and favorable standing—aloof, cold, and almost never smiling at anyone."

A witty, flirtatious Edri? A cold, stern Serena?

Images of those two dragons as Deborah had described them flashed through Garoth's mind.

Edri always seed grave, burdened with thoughts—stern-faced and calculating; while Serena’s real personality was almost identical to the Deborah before him now—mischievous and quirky, hardly matching the word "aloof" at all.

When tal Dragons shifted into human shapes, they seed especially fond of clothing themselves in personas that sharply contrasted with their dragon-nature—deliberately embracing that sense of contrast.

Garoth mulled it over in silence.

Like Alberto—his human form a bright, exaggeratedly passionate adventurer; yet once he resud his Gold Dragon true form, he beca severe, obsessive, even sowhat heavy.

The brass-silver dragon gracefully bowed her head.

She took a sip with the tip of her tongue from the sweet, fruit-scented ad a server had offered, moistening her throat, then eagerly resud the tale of her parents' "glorious years."

"When they were young, they liked traveling together, performing this carefully staged role-play."

"The 'troubadour' was always flashy and ostentatious. No matter which town or village they entered, he loved to stand in the center of a lively tavern or market and sing with dramatic flourish a self-composed tale about helping a rebellious noblewoman elope."

"And the 'noblewoman' would be dressed in opulent finery—neck adorned with glittering gemstone necklaces, earlobes weighed down with heavy gold earrings, wrists and hair piled with countless priceless trinkets... The two would travel together with not a single proper guard or servant in sight."

At this point, Deborah couldn't help letting out a crisp, light laugh:

"The result... almost without exception, there were always those greedy-eyed, ill-intentioned 'bad sorts' attracted to such a tempting pair, circling them like sharks drawn to blood, eager and scheming."

A mischievous light sparkled in her eyes. "As for the outco, naturally there was rarely any surprise."

"Those 'bad sorts' who ca forward of their own accord would often be turned against, leaving them robbed, ruined, and utterly humiliated... I heard a large portion of my parents' first earnings from their adventuring days ca from doing exactly that!"

A classic bait-and-enforce case.

Using themselves as sweet bait, waiting for twisted, greedy prey to take the hook.

This was one of the favorite and most expertly used tricks among tal Dragons.

By contrast, transforming into terrifying, attack-inviting beasts and waiting for others to strike first—then retaliating and extorting via so-called justified defense—was crude and sowhat low-grade.

That crude thod was used less frequently by tal Dragons.

They reserved it only for when an evil target was firmly identified and they were too lazy to design a more subtle trap.

"It sounds like you find it interesting."

Garoth said.

"Of course I do!"

The brass-silver dragon responded without hesitation, as if it were self-evident.

"Isn't it marvelous? You can cleverly punish the wicked hiding among the populace, uphold a little justice, and have ill-gotten gains delivered to your hands—two birds with one stone!"

She gently swayed her elegant draconic head and added her view.

"However, if you do it in a rough frontier where customs are brutal and rules are chaotic, like the old convergence lands, malice among intelligent species is often as naked as a beast—adventures there are a bit plain and unexciting."

She paused, then continued with relish: "But if you stage it in a highly civilized, orderly prosperous kingdom..."

"To see those usually well-dressed, sanctimonious 'decent people' tear off their hypocritical masks and reveal their true intention to sin, only to discover that the 'fat sheep' they eyed is actually a well-hidden 'great shark'—"

"At that mont, the look on their faces would be absolutely, absolutely spectacular!"

She finished speaking and fixed her gaze on the towering red iron dragon beside her, surveying his size and temperant, pondering for a few seconds as if plotting a sche.

Then the brass-silver dragon excitedly proposed:

"Garoth, if we ever get the chance, we should try this ourselves."

"You could play... hmm... a big, strong, simple-minded oaf with little cunning, and I could play a seemingly naive, even sowhat foolish, wealthy daughter."

Mischief danced in Deborah’s eyes, as if she could already see the scene.

"Imagine two greenhorns—clueless about the world but carrying a pile of valuable trinkets—roaming those seemingly civilized towns. For the greedy scum lurking in the shadows, that would be an irresistible temptation! They’d definitely attract plenty of 'volunteers' to take the bait!"

Garoth listened to Deborah's vivid description and felt a flicker of interest.

His massive draconic head gave a slight nod in response. "That does sound rather amusing."

In leisure after his daily grueling training, being able to, like these tal Dragons, 'bait-and-enforce' in a slightly theatrical way—both to exercise the body and observe human affairs—would be a unique form of entertainnt and a pleasant diversion.

But...

That thought flashed briefly and was imdiately suppressed by more practical concerns.

He was not one of those tal Dragons naturally sheltered by the order-aligned camp, comfortably safe; he was a Hybrid Dragon with evil-dragon blood running in his veins—exposure in civilized lands could easily ignite relentless pursuit and killing.

A carefree life of assuming human forms at will and traveling through intelligent realms to play at role-playing... for him, it was far too distant and presently unachievable.

"That was exhilarating!"

At that mont a robust, satisfied shout ca from the center of the hall—Alberto in humanoid form.

He had just finished his final, grandiose, forceful dance step.

Now his golden curls were plastered to his smooth forehead with sweat; his brow was dotted with fine beads of perspiration. Heat rose from his body as if he had just fought an intense battle. His chest rose and fell, breath a little shallow, his stamina seemingly drained to the brink.

One had to admit: that exhausted state... was convincingly portrayed, down to the smallest detail.

Alberto lightly leaped back onto his own huge stone dais.

Soft, bright magical light shimred around him.

Wrapped in that glow, his lanky human adventurer fra appeared to inflate, stretch, and reshape as if pumped with air.

When the light dispersed, the imposing, resplendent Gold Dragon body—coated in dazzling golden scales—had replaced the human guise and once more stood proud.

In an instant his entire deanor transford—gone was the sunny, exuberant young adventurer; he condensed and settled back into the dignified, severe, and obsessively fixed-eyed Gold Dragon.

"Tonight I enjoyed myself, Garoth."

Alberto turned toward the red iron dragon and lowered his enormous head slightly in a solemn gesture of thanks.

"Thank you for your generous hospitality."

He paused, then said, "As for promises—promises are things that, no matter the hardships ahead, must be pursued to their end with all one's might!"

"Before our respective paths inevitably steer us into opposition, Garoth, if you ever encounter any enemy you cannot face alone, send a signal. I, Alberto Aurelius, will co as fast as I can and do everything in my power!"

Although he had been Garoth's vanquisher a short while ago, the words left his mouth with resolute confidence and commanding montum, as if he were the one with absolute power capable of shielding Garoth tenfold.

Undoubtedly, the recent defeat had not truly dented the Gold Dragon’s pride and arrogance.

Reality had barely struck him yet.

Of course, Alberto’s attitude and promise were a net positive for Garoth.

This Gold Dragon was extre, arrogant, and obsessively unpredictable... but it was undeniable that one who had adopted the Saint-Dragon path took his oaths seriously.

And.

He evidently felt a unique trust and recognition toward the red iron dragon who seed to appreciate his ideals.

Having such a powerful ally—soone who honored promises and might erupt into extraordinary power for ideological reasons at critical monts—could, in the future tempestuous Ser Wilderness, produce unexpectedly crucial results.

The two dragons exchanged and confird ans of sending ergency communications across vast distances.

With the dragon hosts departing, the second-level gates of Scorchsteel Fortress slowly closed.

On the towering cliffs above Dragon Valley, the night wind howled with the savannah's scent.

"I will set out soon."

Alberto looked south. "To Ser Wilderness! There I will personally lay the foundation and build my inviolable 'Golden Order.'"

Just as the Gold Dragon beat his wings, preparing to rise and fly toward the unknown road ahead—

The red iron dragon, as if suddenly rembering sothing important, called after him: "Alberto, wait!"

The Gold Dragon paused in midair, folding the wings he was about to flap, and turned his head in puzzlent to Garoth.

"What is it?"

Garoth faced Alberto’s questioning gaze and calmly voiced his request: "Before we part, may I personally feel the might of your 'Divine Smite'?"

He emphasized in a firr tone: "Please, show no rcy."

The Saint-Dragon’s Divine Smite surpassed an ordinary paladin's power. When Alberto had used it earlier, Garoth had felt a trace of danger and had restrained it with a Dragon Qi arm, preventing the Smite from landing on him.

Now he wanted to test the Divine Smite on himself.

The Gold Dragon licked the still-healing wound near his jaw, complex emotions flickering across his eyes—both puzzlent at Garoth’s unusual request and a righteous excitent at the chance for a rematch.

He gave a heavy nod with his massive head: "Strange request, but no problem! I accept. I will give it my all as you wish!"

In that earlier humiliating battle where several evil dragons had ganged up on him, his injuries had been severe.

Most of those wounds were caused by the red iron dragon present now! Although great divine arts like "Holy Healing" and "Reverse Injury" had nded him in ti, his body still bore many torn and shed scale scars, leaving him humiliated in appearance.

Now he had a legitimate chance to "strike back"—even if only symbolically. Who would refuse?

"Then... ready!"

Alberto let out a low, rumbling dragon roar.

A strange hum of energy filled the air.

Chains of Conquest Oath runes, glowing with holy golden light and composed of pure energy, rose and bulged on the Gold Dragon’s right forearm like living things, weaving together and converging swiftly.

In an instant,

A gigantic war-halberd materialized in his dragon claw, solidified from sacred oath-energy, gripped tightly in his grasp!

The next mont:

"Di!vine! Smi—te!"

Accompanied by Alberto’s powerful, sanctified roar, the halberd flared with intense molten light, tracing a scorching, radiant arc through the air toward the red iron dragon.

Garoth did not dodge. He raised his chest, where his Frostburst Scales had not yet recovered, to et the strike.

Clang—tearing!

After withstanding severe resistance, the halberd ripped through scales, leaving a long mark on the red iron dragon’s body—large but not deep—its surface tangled with lingering luminous remnants.

The red iron dragon rely shook his body.

"Hmm." Garoth's voice was calm and even a little relaxed. "I don't feel anything particularly special."

He said.

"I was not wrong! Those who agree with my principles are not truly evil."

Seeing this, Alberto was first surprised, then his trust in Garoth deepened substantially.

The Divine Smite enhanced by the Conquest Oath should, against beings aligned with evil, add multiple tis of physical damage in the form of radiant punishnt derived from divine sources—an agony that seared to the bone and soul, enough to make the fiercest demon wail.

Yet Garoth’s reaction—

Only a bodily shake, not even a frown, his tone utterly casual as if swatted by a mosquito.

That could only an the holy radiant damage aid at evils had no effect on him, or its effect was negligible.

The Divine Smite does not lie.

This ant that the red iron dragon was not a creature of the evil alignnt.