The dwarf alchemist gradually moved closer.
Wearing a focusing magic lens, he adjusted the focus to microscopic levels, clearly seeing the tallic texture on the dragon scales fading away, revealing the internal honeycomb-like fire elent storage structure.
This was a form never recorded in alchemy textbooks.
The thought that his discovery might be publishable made the dwarf alchemist's breathing grow rapid, his thick beard trembling with excitent.
At the sa ti.
As the flas scorched, the shattered scales turned completely molten red. Under magnification, lava-like bright red substance seeped from the honeycomb pores.
The dwarf alchemist keenly sensed danger, his expression changing abruptly.
Buzz!
The iron ring tied to his beard instantly lit up with runes, rapidly extending a layer of glowing shield that covered his body.
The shattered scales exploded like a compressed sun.
Boom!
A blast of flas and shockwave suddenly erupted, striking the dwarf alchemist and sending him flying through three rows of shelves.
Over ten seconds later.
Groni crawled out from the chaotic workshop, covered in dust and soot, his charred beard still smoking. If not for the defensive alchemical tool on his beard ring that absorbed much of the damage, his frail constitution as an alchemist would have suffered severe injuries.
Even so, he paid the price for his carelessness.
Excruciating pain ca from his left eye. When he touched his face, he only felt lted tal fras and sticky remnants of his lens.
The explosion had been too sudden - his alchemical tool activated just slightly too late, costing him that eye.
He never imagined.
Such a small scale fragnt could cause such devastating damage.
Regaining his composure, he looked around carefully.
The mithril crucible had cracked radially, the rune engraving knife shattered into pieces, and the focusing magic lens was destroyed... The physical pain was secondary - these losses hurt the dwarf alchemist's heart more.
For an alchemist, good tools were priceless.
"Damn you! Deceitful red iron hybrid dragon! I'll rember this!"
The dwarf alchemist's skin flushed red with rage, his shouts echoing through the night.
Bang! Olaf kicked open the warped workshop door, carrying a warhamr taller than himself. His gaze swept the interior like a tiger's, landing on the red-faced, one-eyed dwarf alchemist.
"Groni, what happened?" he asked.
The dwarf alchemist: "I was attacked by a wicked dragon."
He briefly explained what occurred.
After hearing the story, Olaf widened his eyes and blurted bluntly: "What dragon attack? You just carelessly blew yourself up, didn't you?"
Hearing this.
The dwarf alchemist froze, then spat out a mouthful of blood.
Being called careless by a barbarian made him feel like exploding with rage, yet he couldn't refute it.
Overco with fury, the dwarf alchemist spat another mouthful of blood. As oxygen left his brain, he stiffened and collapsed face-first, unconscious.
anwhile.
At Rampage Bear Ridge, Needleleaf Valley.
Garoth knew nothing of the dwarf alchemist's misfortune. Had he known, he would have burst out laughing.
Using flas to heat his explosive scales then examining them face-to-face? That the dwarf wasn't blown to pieces imdiately showed quick reflexes.
Even the notoriously tough and vigilant Earth Rampage Bears had been blown to charred, bloody sses during their sparring sessions with Garoth.
A physically fragile alchemist caught unprepared at close range? Any slower reaction would have ant certain death.
Unaware of events under the sa sky.
Garoth remained full of fighting spirit - his training wasn't over yet.
After careful consideration, he realized only exercising the scales outside his reproductive chamber was equivalent to adding thicker armor over a weak point - the weakness still existed. It would be better to train the weak point directly.
Thus, after ntal preparation.
Garoth took a deep breath, stood upright, and thrust his hips against a relatively young, softer needleleaf pine.
As wood chips flew, the little dragon extending from his reproductive chamber drilled a deep hole into the trunk.
Garoth's facial plates twitched violently, hissing through clenched teeth. Even with his high pain tolerance, he couldn't help grimacing.
This kind of weakness training wasn't sothing any ordinary dragon could resolve to do.
"Again! I'll make this weakness hard as steel - no, harder than steel!"
The red iron young dragon gritted his teeth and slamd forward again savagely.
Bang! Bang! Bang! The trunk beca riddled with holes, cracks spreading until it finally split apart completely.
Garoth also felt his little dragon ache unbearably, making continuation impossible. He stopped to rest before beginning another round of adaptation training.
The next day, as the first rays of dawn illuminated Needleleaf Valley.
Garoth erged from the mountain cave at the valley's center, spreading his wings.
Needleleaf Valley was surrounded by mountains on three sides, with many natural caves in the cliffs. Garoth had claid the largest, most comfortable one as his Dragon Nest.
As the saying goes, the morning determines the day.
Normally, Garoth would take flight at dawn to hunt suitable magical beasts, simultaneously honing his combat skills.
Had another dragon ruled a Rampage Bear group.
They'd likely command their subjects to hunt for them, living a comfortable life of leisure.
But Garoth didn't do this. His hunting frequency didn't decrease, because hunting wasn't just for food - it was crucial training to sharpen his combat techniques and accumulate practical experience.
Practical experience mattered greatly to Garoth.
Like that brass dragon he'd encountered before.
A young dragon over 16 years old with several alchemical tools - had it possessed sufficient combat experience, Garoth's robbery wouldn't have succeeded so easily. It was precisely because Garoth recognized its lack of fighting experience that he chose to counterattack and steal rather than retreat.
Returning to the present.
Garoth intended to take off hunting imdiately.
But his large stride aggravated the lingering pain between his hind legs, making him grimace and land again. He lay helplessly on a stone slab, deciding to rest longer.
Noticing sothing amiss.
Samantha approached on all fours, asking curiously: "My dear brother, are you injured?"
Garoth: "No."
Samantha didn't believe him: "You were walking strangely just now. Sothing's definitely wrong."
"Don't tough it out. Where are you hurt? Let see."
"I've learned a new rune - I can inscribe it on your injury to speed up recovery."
The red dragon extended sharp claws, enthusiastically moving closer.
Garoth's expression turned stern, dangerous glints flashing in his eyes: "Stay away. Test your runes on the Rampage Bears."
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