Chapter 185: Hope!

Following the direction pointed out by Gnosh Bloodaxe, the White Dragon Lord flew toward the territory of the Wildhammer Clan.

The orcs of this world still followed ancient traditions, living together in clans where each possessed its own distinct territory.

Large clans occupied lush, water-rich lands with massive herds of cattle and sheep, while small clans were left to struggle for survival on barren lands no one else wanted.

The Blood Axe Clan, located near Blade Fortress, was one such example. Although the water and grass in their territory weren't too bad, their proximity to human borders meant they constantly faced the looming threat of human armies.

Of course, the Blood Axe Clan wasn't the most miserable. The most tragic were the wandering orcs whose original tribes had been shattered by natural disasters or man-made calamities.

These vagrant orcs roamed the plains, fighting vultures and wild wolves for scraps of food. Every time they closed their eyes, they never knew if they would live to see the next day's sun.

Amid the startled cries of the plains orcs, the White Dragon Lord beat his wings and carved a path across the sky.

A few hours later, he spotted a massive orc clan with tents stretching out for hundreds of meters. The sides of the hide tents were painted with a crude black hammer symbol.

He had found his target!

The White Dragon Lord dove down, landing heavily at the edge of the encampment. He opened his massive jaws and let out a terrifying roar.

A cone of sonic force blasted from the White Dragon Lord's mouth, sweeping directly into the tents.

Whether it was the cattle and sheep kept for meat or the worgs trained for battle, all the beasts collapsed to the ground, shivering uncontrollably beneath the vicious dragon's roar.

The White Dragon Lord used the most direct form of provocation to announce his arrival.

If this tribe had a dragon's protection, the proud nature of dragons dictated that the resident wyrm would never let such a blatant provocation from a peer slide. It would inevitably charge out to duel the white dragon.

...

Inside the largest tent at the very center of the Wildhammer Clan, Ogum sat cross-legged on a black wolf pelt. He frowned as he listened to his subordinate's report.

"Chieftain, although the True Dragon is only in the Very Young Dragon Stage, it eats a clefthoof every single week. At this rate, I am afraid it will eat through all the clefthooves in the clan."

Ogum felt a headache coming on. The source of his misery was the very True Dragon he had joyously welcomed back in person half a year ago.

For a clan like the Wildhammers, with a population nearing twenty thousand, taking a step further in power was absolutely impossible without the backing of a True Dragon.

But the Wildhammer Clan's strength was in a rather awkward position. They sat at the very bottom among the large clans, meaning that powerful, adult True Dragons simply looked down on them.

Therefore, when Ogum discovered a Very Young Dragon that lacked any clan support, he had been absolutely thrilled.

Normally, Very Young Dragons were kept and raised by their elders on Overseas Dragon Island. Although he didn't know how this one had ended up wandering the outside world, Ogum knew it was a godsent opportunity.

Without a second thought, Ogum had agreed to the Very Young Dragon's conditions and brought it back.

A True Dragon's appetite was horrifying; they had to consume an amount of food equal to their own body weight every single day.

Originally, this was a burden a large clan like the Wildhammers could easily afford.

But to Ogum's dismay, the True Dragon he brought back was extremely picky. It refused to eat anything other than clefthooves.

A clefthoof was a massive beast resembling a mix between a rhinoceros and a buffalo. It possessed hard horns on its nose and head, brownish-red fur all over, and thick, pillar-like limbs. Its hooves were split, looking as if they had been cleft apart, which earned the beast its name.

Once an adult, a clefthoof could reach ten meters in length and four meters in height. They were the primary draft beasts the orc clans relied on when relocating their grazing grounds.

Orcs were a nomadic people. Whenever their herds finished grazing an area, the clan had to pack up and move to a new location to continue herding.

This was when the immense strength of the clefthooves was required. Only beasts of their tremendous size could haul the heavy wooden carts loaded with massive cowhide tents.

Without their clefthooves, the Wildhammer Clan would be stranded and doomed to die in place.

Thus, Ogum was currently in a terrible mood, though he still managed to pacify his subordinate.

"Step down for now. I will go speak with the True Dragon later."

"Yes, Chieftain."

Ogum rubbed his temples, trying to figure out how to broach the subject.

Suddenly, a terrifying dragon's roar erupted from outside the clan.

Ogum leaped up in shock.

Had the Very Young Dragon's parents come looking for it?!

The orc chieftain hurriedly stood up, threw aside the tent flap, and rushed outside.

The White Dragon Lord watched as a heavily muscled orc wielding a black one-handed hammer walked out with a group of warriors, and the dragon frowned.

To remain entirely unresponsive to such a provocation...

Did this large clan really not have a True Dragon?!

But the White Dragon Lord didn't know where the other large clans were located either, so he decided to ask the approaching orc chieftain.

As Ogum drew near, he stared at the White Dragon Lord's massive body, entirely astounded.

With a build like that, this creature had to be among the most robust of all True Dragons.

Steeling himself, Ogum walked forward.

"Respected True Dragon, what brings you here?" he asked in Orcish.

The White Dragon Lord looked at the somewhat timid orc and paid it no mind. This was the typical attitude ordinary races displayed when facing a giant dragon.

"I have come seeking my own kind."

Ogum's heart skipped a beat, but he quickly suppressed his rising panic.

"We do not have any of your kind here. If you are looking for other True Dragons, you could check the Soulsplitter Tribe. They serve a great True Dragon. The Soulsplitter Tribe is located..."

Hearing Ogum's suddenly accelerating heartbeat, the White Dragon Lord narrowed his eyes.

This orc was lying!

The second half was true, because a lie with such specific details wouldn't survive the slightest scrutiny. That meant the first half was the lie.

Holding back the dragon breath building in his throat, the White Dragon Lord lowered his massive head right above the chieftain. Golden, diamond-slit pupils stared down at the orc.

"Is that so? Deceiving me comes at a very steep price!"

Looking at the dangerous glint of blue gathering in the white dragon's maw and feeling the terrifying chill radiating from it, cold sweat dripped down Ogum's forehead.

Damn it, he already knew!

"Ahem, I just remembered! Half a year ago, a Very Young Dragon did arrive at the Wildhammer Clan. I will take you to see it right now. But before that, please allow me to offer a gift as an apology for the misunderstanding."

The White Dragon Lord raised a scaly brow. He extinguished the frost breath in his throat and looked at the orc chieftain with an amused, half-smiling expression.

Seeing the white dragon pull his head back, Ogum let out a massive sigh of relief. Thank goodness he hadn't just been squashed flat by a single claw.

Wiping the cold sweat from his brow, Ogum ordered his nearby subordinate.

"Quickly, go fetch those magic crystals! They are hidden beneath my seat."

The subordinate acknowledged the order, hastily vaulted onto a worg, and sprinted toward the center of the camp.

A moment later, the orc rode the worg back, clutching a black wooden box. The box's surface was carved with gorgeous, intricate patterns—clearly a far cry from the rugged, utilitarian style favored by the orcs.

Looking at the box in the orc's hands, the White Dragon Lord was overjoyed.

Because from within that box, he sensed a long-absent pulse of elemental fluctuations.