Tale of the Red Dragon Without Dragon's Might-Chapter 48 - We Can Too

They only occasionally emerge from the forest to rob, but spend most of their time inside the abandoned fortress…

We discovered that Red Dragon quite early, but nobody believed it.

It never robbed us or demanded tribute,” the Civilian Captain said.

“Back then it was just a Young Dragon and too weak.”

“So who killed your comrades?”

The Human Warrior opened his mouth but found himself speechless for a moment.

“Having been out in the world yourself, do you really believe a Red Dragon would benignly spare you?” The Human Warrior quickly thought of a response to the Civilian Captain’s words, “That’s no Blue Dragon, nor a Green Dragon, but a Red Dragon—the tyrant of the mountains, evil and cruel, chaotic by nature.

When it’s in a bad mood, it kills; in a good mood, it still kills, without any reason.

Right now, it just hasn’t troubled you yet…”

The Civilian Captain fell silent, well aware of the Red Dragon’s bad reputation as the most quintessential Evil Dragon, whose only interest is in burning, killing, and looting.

Creatures that serve Red Dragons live in fear, spending most of their time flattering the Red Dragon just to survive.

“We’re here now, and we have a grudge against it.

We can help you,” the Human Warrior took a deep breath.

“Once we leave, you’ll have the confidence to face it.”

“I don’t know why those Orcs claim the Red Dragon as their master, giving it a strange nickname.” The Human Warrior paused briefly, “But we saw with our own eyes that the Red Dragon dwells in a lair halfway up the mountain, and when we attacked it, none of the Orcs interfered, nothing at all.”

After a long silence, the Civilian Captain finally spoke, “Dragons can fly, what is your plan for dealing with that?”

“We have a very powerful Ranger, and your deputy captain is also a strong Ranger, both Half-Elves…

Can you throw a spear?

A skill that I possess, it’s impossible for you not to be proficient,” the Human Warrior continued, “I noticed that your village has a well-preserved Spear Crossbow.

Can it be dismantled?”

“I admit that Red Dragon is cunning, and this is our first encounter with a Red Dragon that flees.

If not for its scales being too red, shining brightly, we would have suspected it was a Green Dragon,” the Human Warrior said, “But no matter how much it flees, when we prepare to ascend to its lair, it returns.

Dragons do not easily abandon their nests.”

“If it comes to it and we fail, everyone will just have to relocate,” the Human Warrior sighed.

The Civilian Captain stared intently at the Human Warrior, who met his gaze without a hint of evasion.

Turning away, the Civilian Captain had to admit, he was truly tempted.

Indeed, could anyone remain indifferent to a Red Dragon living nearby?

…

…

Two flowers bloomed.

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Leon, preoccupied with thoughts, woke up particularly early the next day, not sleeping in as usual until noon, and even later.

Today’s plan was to attack the Hobgoblins’ camp.

Leon had assumed that the Orcs would have surely awoken already, waiting for him to rise and set out, yet many Orcs had not even gotten up.

Leon merely nodded towards Dekka and the Orc Leader promptly led his men to give those still not awakened Orcs a beating.

“Come in.”

“Aren’t you coming in?”

“Do you want me to stuff my shoes into your mouths?”

Leon didn’t care how Dekka was trying to rouse the undisciplined Orcs, he just ate on his own, flaunting a whole wild boar.

This forest wasn’t really large; half an hour’s travel from the abandoned fortress in the south to the Hobgoblin camp in the north.

Without logistical support, the Orcs actually moved quickly, but for Leon it was still a bit too slow.

Halfway there, Leon couldn’t bear it any longer and decided to take the lead.

“You all take your time, I’ll go ahead and scout the enemy situation.”

Saying that, Leon spread his wings and flew up, reaching the Hobgoblins’ campsite overhead after a few casual flaps.

What was called a Hobgoblin campsite was strictly speaking a Goblin campsite, with a round formation, crisscrossing broad roads, a warlord’s command center, Hobgoblin barracks, and a messy distribution of Bugbear dens which were just large burrows.

Lastly, the tent-like goblins’ huts.

Leon swooped over the Hobgoblin campsite, not only to scout the enemy but also to intimidate them.

Certainly, he was a Young Dragon, and a large one at that.

He’d just entered the Young Dragon stage and was nearly eight meters long in total, and now probably around nine meters, although his body length was just over three meters.

When the wings that spanned more than ten meters were unfolded, he was indeed a colossal creature.

Just circling overhead the campsite and diving down with a roar, Leon noticed all the goblins trembling and readying their bows.

One of them in the watchtower even fell down due to Leon’s approach, but this didn’t have much effect on the Hobgoblins who emerged from the barracks or on the Bugbears who came out of their dens like wild beasts.

“A Red Dragon?” The tall Hobgoblins Warlord walked out of the command center, looking up at the sky.

Leon, seeing the Hobgoblins Warlord, slowed his flight and circled the command center.

“Submit or die,” Leon threatened, as it was essential to deliver such an ultimatum, “My great army will be here soon.”

Leon gazed down at the Hobgoblin campsite, already having a battle tactic in mind.

He’d play dirty and first use the Sword Control Technique to eliminate the goblins on top of the watchtower, and with no room to hide in the confined space of the tower, his Flying Sword would leave them nowhere to dodge.

Then he would take the opportunity to kill the Hobgoblins Warlord in one fell swoop, and finally subdue the rest of the Hobgoblins.

“Are you talking about those Orcs?” the Hobgoblins Warlord asked.

“Yes,” Leon replied.

“We are much stronger than those brainless Orcs,” the voice of the Hobgoblins Warlord still thunderous, “We are the prestigious first legion under the Red Dragon.”

“Uh…” Leon, whose brain hadn’t caught up, flew out of the Hobgoblin campsite unconsciously.

I haven’t even made a move yet, and you’ve already submitted?

The situational awareness of the Hobgoblins Warlord was frighteningly good, even making Leon suspicious of deceit.

But, in fact, this was a normal occurrence.

If Orcs can submit, why can’t Hobgoblins?

An Orc came running, babbling about their master being the Red Dragon, but no shadow of the Red Dragon was seen, and no matter how eloquently you speak, with no submission, there’s only the battle.

They are an evil race that relies on strong, malevolent creatures as their true path.

By the time Leon descended to the Hobgoblin campsite, the Orcs were already nearing.

Dekka was still oblivious, gently tapping the Big Iron Shield with his Hard Head Hammer.

“Wait for me; I want to duel their warlord alone, nobody else interfere.”