Defeating the World with the Power of One Dragon! Chapter 485: Desire, Zolaya

Facing the red iron dragon Garoth's slit pupils that seed about to spew tangible flas, Deborah felt a brief tremor in her heart.

She couldn't help but recall those once-maddening things.

Intertwined dragon tails, sparks bursting forth when scales collided, panting breaths woven into low roars... Those scenes played out in her mind.

She instinctively lowered her gaze, avoiding the red iron dragon's line of sight.

A few seconds later, perhaps feeling that was too immature, she raised her head again.

Deborah said calmly, "The little dragons have just hatched. This is the ti they most need their mother's presence. As for you... Garoth, I've said it before, I won't interfere with your choices."

The traditional mating view of tal Dragons leaned towards monogamy.

But this tradition was never an ironclad rule. More often, it only applied between partners of comparable strength and status.

When the power gap between both parties was too great, this balance was difficult to maintain.

In fact, those few venerable tal Dragon elders all had more than one companion.

Garoth's own imnse power was already special enough. Now, as the ruler of the Aola Kingdom, he naturally attracted the gazes of many potential mates.

He had always been adept at wrestling with his own desires, not indulging in pleasure, but temptations of all kinds constantly surrounded him.

Deborah understood that if she truly spoke up, requesting he follow the ancient tal Dragon tradition, he might agree. He might even treat suppressing his instincts as a form of cultivation, deriving satisfaction from tempering his will.

But she was unwilling to do this.

Deep in Deborah's heart, a persistent worry always swirled.

She always felt that Garoth had experienced too many crises and upheavals in his youth, leaving a deep-seated lack of security within him, which was why he pursued absolute power so obsessively.

Coupled with his rare talent, which allowed him to directly receive growth feedback from training, it made it easier for him to imrse himself in endless tempering.

Resisting desires, restraining instincts.

These things that other dragons saw as tornt could be transford into nourishnt for his cultivation.

Deborah had no doubt that if one day he had to choose between "continuing to grow stronger" and "her, his partner," Garoth would choose the forr without hesitation.

His heart, which pursued strength, was as hard as iron, unshakeable.

This was also the fundantal reason he could grow from an ordinary red iron dragon into the King of Aola.

Perhaps even Garoth himself hadn't realized how similar he and his father Gorthax were in essence.

Both were dragons who could abandon everything for the sake of power.

As an observer, especially as his partner who understood him, Deborah saw this with exceptional clarity.

She feared that if this continued, Garoth would eventually discard all factors that might hinder his evolution.

Including emotions, bonds, even the most basic desires, ultimately becoming a cold, power-chasing monster devoid of warmth.

This was the outco Deborah least wished to see.

In comparison, if Garoth could occasionally choose to indulge his desires, it would actually make her feel more at ease. That would at least prove he was still a flesh-and-blood, living dragon.

The red iron dragon opposite her was unaware of these turbulent thoughts churning within Deborah.

After hearing her words, the blazing heat in his eyes visibly receded, quickly returning to his usual calm composure.

"Hmm, you're right."

His voice was steady as always. "The hatchlings indeed need you more now."

Indeed... He suppressed that intense instinctual impulse again in an instant.

Seeing this, Deborah's heart sank slightly, a complex emotion spreading through her chest.

"Garoth," she changed the subject. "I see you've been deeply imrsed in training lately. The war on the Romanian Plains has ended. You should allow yourself to relax for a while."

"For example, personally tour your kingdom, listen to the voices of your subjects."

"Or, like before, disguise your identity, take Vira, and walk through Aola's towns, experience ordinary life."

The red iron dragon shook his head. "That sounds like a waste of ti."

He paused, his gaze turning towards the distant mountains. "The war is only paused, it won't end forever."

"This world has never truly been peaceful. No one knows when the next crisis will descend. Only by continuously growing stronger can one have the right to protect everything we have now."

Deborah knew further discussion was futile.

She understood Garoth. Once he set his mind on a path, no one could pull him back.

She could only let out a soft sigh, swallowing the words that rose to her lips.

A mont later, this conversation ended.

The inner turmoil within the red iron dragon had long since settled completely, returning him to that calm, focused state. He turned back towards the training grounds, soon imrsing himself again in the fulfilling sensation of feeling his power grow with every effort he expended.

Ti flowed quietly. A month passed in the blink of an eye.

After one particularly intense training session, Garoth dragged his exhausted body back to the depths of the palace.

He entered the spacious hot spring chamber, slowly lowering his massive form into the perfectly tempered pool water.

Steamy mist imdiately rose, blurring his vision. The liquefied energy-infused water enveloped the dragon's powerful physique, slowly seeping into every crevice between scales and muscle, washing away accumulated fatigue.

Garoth closed his eyes, feeling the soothing flow of energy within him.

This was one of the rare monts he allowed himself to relax.

The pool water was specially formulated for dragon physiology, inherently high-concentration energy, infused with essences from various magical dicines with healing and nourishing effects. It was remarkably effective for physical recovery.

Before long, a team of ticulously selected serpent woman attendants silently slipped into the pool.

Each was young and beautiful, with tall, slender figures, all skilled among the serpentfolk sorceresses, their techniques proficient, their control of pressure precise.

These attendants, harboring an instinctive reverence for their sovereign, cautiously approached and began using perfectly asured techniques to massage the dragon's hard scales and muscles, helping him relax further.

Garoth's breathing remained steady, without any fluctuation.

He held little interest in these weak creatures. Their touch felt more like a routine service.

Moreover, wrestling with desire was one of his common thods for tempering his will. Contact of this level was insufficient to distract him.

However, as ti passed, among the many touches of the attendants, one began to feel distinctly different.

At first, it too followed the prescribed path, pressing cautiously and restrainedly near his spinal ridge.

But gradually, the trajectory of that touch shifted subtly.

That hand carried a certain probing, teasing intent, slowly tracing along the hard lines of his spinal ridge, fingertips lightly brushing the edges of scales, finally coming to rest on a particular sensitive spot where his shoulder blade connected to his neck—one of the few areas on a dragon where scales were thinner and nerve distribution denser.

Fingertips gently circled there, pressure varying.

Garoth didn't open his eyes imdiately, only his breathing rhythm grew slightly heavier.

The other serpent won seed unaware of the anomaly, still focused on their tasks.

And the owner of that hand, as if receiving so tacit signal of permission, grew more explicit and bold in her movents.

She began delving into the gaps between scales, roaming over the dragon's torso, testing for reactions hidden beneath that armored hide, tracing along his flank, waist, even gradually approaching more private areas.

Garoth finally slowly opened his eyes.

His gaze remained sharp as blades even within the steamy mist.

His movent was slight, rely lowering his gaze slightly.

A serpent woman was kneeling on the pool floor, cradling one of his foreclaws in both hands, gently licking the scales on the back of his claw.

Her movents were devout and ticulous, her tongue occasionally brushing the soft mbrane where scales t.

Feeling the emperor's gaze upon her, she paused, then slowly rose, breaking the surface.

Damp black hair clung to her slender neck, water droplets rolling down her delicate skin.

Her beauty was considered peerless among the serpent won, her eyes and brows carrying a natural, alluring charm.

"My King, do you like this?"

She raised her head, gazing up at the majestic, mountain-like dragon before her, her voice soft.

"You have overstepped."

The red iron dragon looked down upon her, his voice like thunder, betraying neither anger nor joy.

"Please... punish my transgression, Your Majesty."

The serpent woman bowed her head as if in panic, her body leaning forward slightly, revealing a beautifully curved, snow-white stretch of her back, which seed to emit a faint glow under the water's reflection.

Her shoulders trembled lightly, appearing pitiful and delicate.

The red iron dragon's gaze lingered on her for two seconds, then shifted to the other attendants. "All of you, withdraw."

The remaining serpent won showed no hesitation or question, imdiately ceasing their movents, slipping into the water with respectful postures, quickly exiting the pool.

They moved with light steps, leaving wet trails, silently departing the bathing area without making any unnecessary sound.

The spacious hot spring chamber fell quiet, leaving only the pervasive mist, the gurgling water flow.

And, the red iron dragon and that audacious attendant.

"Zoraya, no need for pretense."

Garoth spoke.

Under his gaze, the serpent woman suddenly gave a radiant smile, the panicked expression on her face vanishing without a trace.

Her form then warped and transford.

Her facial features didn't change much, remaining stunningly beautiful.

The serpent tail of her lower body rapidly contracted, transforming into a pair of straight, slender legs, with faint azure serpent scale patterns remaining below the knees. Simultaneously, on her arms, chest, waist, and abdon, several gem-like blue dragon scales appeared, arranged in intricate patterns. A pair of forked, lightning-like dragon horns spiraled from her temples, their tips dancing with tiny electric sparks.

Blue Dragon Zoraya.

She showed not the slightest fear. Instead, she straightened her posture, allowing her alluring curves to be displayed beneath the shimring water's surface.

The emperor's oppressive aura seed to have no effect on her.

"As expected, nothing escapes you, my King."

She said softly. "I rely wished... to personally ease your post-victory fatigue. The glorious achievents on the Romanian Plains deserve a proper celebration."

She paused, her voice lowering yet growing clearer.

"And I believe... I myself... can serve as that celebratory gift."

The pool water fell silent for a mont, only the steam continuously rising, condensing, and dripping.

Garoth slowly extended a foreclaw, his imnse shadow enveloping Zoraya.

He opened his claw, enveloping her entirely within his grasp, then raised her before his eyes.

Zoraya sat slumped in the dragon's palm, adopting a timid, fragile posture, hugging her knees with both hands, yet eting the red iron dragon's gaze without retreating.

For a long ti, she had harbored complex feelings towards this powerful, awe-inspiring Lord of Molten Iron.

Awe, admiration, longing, and a contradictory urge to draw near yet not dare act rashly.

Garoth's will was as tough as iron, rarely swayed by desire, never actively pursuing pleasure, always seeming to ignore her various hints.

But now, the situation seed to have undergone a subtle change.

After the war on the Romanian Plains, after achieving such a glorious victory, even the most resolute heart would inevitably experience a mont of laxity.

Furthermore, that tal Dragon partner had not been by the King's side for so ti.

Most crucially, that tal Dragon had actually contacted her, telling her now was the best ti to approach the King. Before this, the brass-silver dragon had always been quite wary of her.

This might be a trap. It might be to toy with her.

But after careful consideration, Zoraya decided to trust the tal Dragon.

Thus, she planned this encounter, infiltrating the attendant ranks.

During it, she once felt her mind seed to be probed, discovered, but afterward, nothing happened. Everything proceeded smoothly.

"King... please... accept this gift."

Zoraya lightly bit her lip, her cheek nestling against one of the red iron dragon's curved, sharp hooked claws, slowly rubbing against it.

Her cheeks gradually flushed, her breathing grew rapid. The electric sparks dancing at the tips of her dragon horns beca more active, crackling, intertwining with the steamy heat of the hot spring, emitting faint popping sounds.

So ripples stirred within Garoth's eyes.

He could feel the warmth, the trembling, and a certain fiery anticipation from the body within his claw.

Long-suppressed instincts stirred restlessly at this mont, engaging in a tug-of-war with reason.

"A fine celebratory gift," he finally spoke, his voice growing sowhat low and hoarse. "I accept it."

A full month later.

The red iron dragon finally flew out from the palace, reappearing at the training grounds.

His movents seed no different from usual, still steady, each wingbeat carrying majestic montum.

But upon closer observation, one might notice his flying posture was slightly more relaxed than before, his spirit no longer perpetually taut like a fully drawn bowstring.

Moderate indulgence had indeed granted him a degree of relaxation.

He quickly threw himself back into his daily training regin, as if that month's absence had never occurred. Everything returned to normal.

And within that nearly ruined forr hot spring chamber.

The Blue Dragon had returned to her true form, struggling to support herself with her forelimbs.

Scales all over her body were cracked and peeled back, threads of blood continuously seeping from the gaps, tinting the pool water beneath her a pale red. Her right foreclaw was unnaturally twisted, clearly fractured. The scales on her chest and abdon bore multiple depressions, marks of having withstood imnse force.

More severe were her internal injuries.

At least four ribs were broken, her internal organs suffered varying degrees of shock damage. Every breath tugged at her injuries, bringing sharp pain.

What had just transpired was, for her, no less than experiencing a life-and-death struggle.

This was the result of the excessive gap in power and physique between the two parties.

But no expression of pain or regret surfaced on Zoraya's face.

On the contrary, her eyes held a certain satisfaction. As she panted softly, she tried to move her body.

Those pains seed to narrate the Red Emperor's imnse power and madness, and this was precisely what she found most enthralling.

That unparalleled sense of power, that feeling of being utterly crushed, yet carefully spared at the last mont—that precise control—intoxicated her.

Sunlight filtered through the broken windows, casting several hazy beams of light.

Zoraya watched the dust dancing within those beams, her mind uncontrollably replaying the fragnts of what had just occurred.

The red iron dragon's breath, blazing like a fla, brushed past her ear; the nearly shattering sense of pressure when his hooked claws pressed against her scales... She involuntarily curled her uninjured claw, then winced slightly as the movent tugged at her wounds.

Finally, she sank into a satisfied, deep sleep.