Iron Dragon's Advancement Journey

Page 97

　"Mentor, you seem to dislike Lady Silverhand very much," Isis asked softly after packing her simple belongings.

　Casalos stretched lazily, his scales shimmering faintly in the morning light: "Don't like it? Of course not. Who would like someone who's been sexually repressed for a thousand years, ambitious yet incompetent, and still relies on his electoral status?"

Chapter 305

　"That crazy old hag who stirs up trouble everywhere... You should know that the Snow Mountain was attacked by the Harpists several times, right? Those guys are still locked up in Cecita's dungeon. Why don't you go ask them if Storm Silverfinger is behind it?"

　"Pfft..." Isis chuckled, then looked towards the makeshift prison with a somber expression, her brows furrowed. "Midnight... will she really be alright?"

　“I told you not to worry,” Casalos flicked the tip of his tail at Isis’s messy hair. “They’ll be rescued in less than half a day, though it might make quite a commotion.”

　“Cirik?” Isis had a sudden thought and remembered someone.

　"Wow, you're quite the student, quick-witted." Casalos nodded in satisfaction. "Midnight, you'd better cherish your girlfriend."

　Isis blushed: "Professor! What girlfriend... I, she and I are just friends!"

　"Oh? Is that so?" Casalos narrowed his dragon eyes, clearly disbelieving. "Then who are you interested in? That warrior covered in knife wounds?"

　“Kevlar?” Isis was taken aback, then shook her head. “No… he’s just a comrade, and…” she hesitated for a moment, “I’m not sure which side he’s on now.”

　Casalos remained silent, his dragon eyes sweeping across the distant Kevoran. The cursed warrior stood beside the few elven knights left behind by Stormsilverhand, seemingly engaged in conversation. His stance was rather ambiguous.

　"Alright, we should go." Tie Long stood up, his massive body casting a shadow in the morning light. "Lie on my shoulder, hold on tight to the spine scales, time waits for no one."

　Isis hesitated for a moment: "Where are we going? Shouldn't we stay and help find Elminster?"

　"Looking for him?" Casalos chuckled. "He was banished to another dimension, not buried in the temple ruins. Looking for him here is a waste of time. Trust me, Elminster isn't that easy to kill. He'll be back in the Material Plane soon to clear things up."

　Isis's eyes lit up: "Are you sure?"

　“I’m sure,” Casalos said decisively, spreading his wings and gesturing for Isis to climb on. “Now, we have more important things to do, especially since I need to understand the changes that have occurred in you.”

　Isis nimbly climbed onto the dragon's back, finding a relatively flat spot between Casalos's wings to sit down, her hands gripping the thick scales on its neck. Once Casalos was sure she was secure, it flapped its wings sharply, stirring up dust and creating a vortex, propelling the dragon into the air as it flew eastward.

　"To be able to return so quickly after being banished to another dimension, truly worthy of being called a great sage." Isis's voice drifted somewhat in the high sky, but the Casaloz dragons' keen hearing still picked it up.

　“A great sage?” Casalos snorted dismissively, sparks flying through the air. “He still needs the magic network. Without the support of the magic network, he wouldn’t have the ability to return to the material world from the abyss on his own.”

　"Oh, how did he get back?"

　"You have a mentor, so why can't he, Elminster, have one?" Tie Long's tone was slightly teasing.

　"But if the Great Sage is already so powerful, then what about his mentor..."

　“Impressive?” Casalos interrupted her. “He’s quite good at fighting in the Elminster Tavern, but if we’re just talking about magical strength, there are plenty of people in Faerûn who are stronger than him. As for his mentor… he’s the most powerful mortal in Faerûn, bar none.”

　Isis blinked, somewhat incredulously: "Even you?"

　“Although it’s hard to admit, it’s the truth.” Casalos’s tone became unusually serious. “Don’t be fooled by appearances, little girl. The judgment of strength is never one-dimensional, especially in this chaotic age of magic, there are many secrets you don’t know…” It changed the subject, “For example, your own changes.”

　Isis paused for a moment: "My...change?"

　“Don’t play dumb,” Casalos’s voice came clearly through the wind high in the sky. “It’s not normal that you can still cast spells steadily and even heal so many wounded people when magic is completely chaotic. This means that you have some kind of power within you, a power that can create and control magic in chaos.”

　Isis was silent for a moment, her voice hesitant: "I don't know... I just did what you taught me, trying my best to sense the fluctuations of the magic network and find a stable point. If I couldn't find one, then..."

　“No, this isn’t a problem that can be solved by technique or casting spells outside the net.” Casalos shook his head, the morning light shimmering on his dragon horns. “The magic net has now curled into a cocoon, enveloping and isolating the continent of Faerûn. All spellcasters, even gods, are unable to channel magic normally. But you should clearly see that when you cast a spell, the curled magic net partially unfolds for you, which means that there is some kind of power within you that is ‘recognized’ by the magic net.”

　Isis stared wide-eyed in astonishment: "This... how is this possible? Apart from the strange and wonderful knowledge you've taught me, I'm just an ordinary mage. I don't have any special powers..."

　"Who knows?" Casalos's tone was inscrutable, clearly not intending to elaborate. "Perhaps it's fate. Now, relax, our flight speed will increase."

　Before the words were even finished, Casalos suddenly accelerated, the air stirred into vortices or smoothed laminar flows by the membrane scales of its wings, propelling the dragon, transformed into an iron-gray lightning bolt, through the clouds and hurtling eastward. The wind howled, and Isis had no choice but to cling tightly to the dragon's back, close her eyes to rest, and temporarily set aside her questions.

　Casalos flew at incredible speed, but his mind was completely elsewhere. His pseudo-Laplace's demon was operating at high speed, calculating the various possible effects of the magical goddess's power emanating from Isis and Midnight.

　After flying for about forty minutes, Casalos sensed something was wrong. The elements in the air were becoming increasingly chaotic, and irregular, thick lightning bolts were leaping through the clouds. Occasionally, small cloud clusters would spin on their own, forming miniature elemental vortices, just as they had before reaching the Shadow Valley region.

　Since it approached Shadow Valley, this chaos has not shown any trace—looking back, the sky in the direction of Shadow Valley is also evolving into a scene resembling the Chaos Sea.

　Casalos clearly sensed that the power within Isis that allowed the magic net to partially expand seemed to have become unstable. The dragon's senses detected that the magic within her was sometimes surging and sometimes stagnating, as if it were being interfered with.

　“Mentor, I feel something is wrong…” Isis also noticed the abnormality, her voice trembling slightly, “The magical fluctuations are getting stronger and stronger, and I can barely grasp them anymore.”

　Casalos squinted, his dragon eyes scanning the terrain below. They had flown about two hundred kilometers from Shadow Valley and were now over the vast Comansel jungle.

　“We need to land,” Casalos decided, adjusting his wings to begin descending. “The elemental chaos in this area is increasing; continuing to fly is too risky.”

　Just as it was spiraling downwards, a blinding bolt of lightning suddenly struck down from the clear sky, plunging straight into the ground. Then, as if it were alive, it began to crawl across the surface, forming a shimmering blue-white crack that stretched for hundreds of meters.

　“Look, this is what I meant by elemental chaos.” Casalos pointed to the strange lightning bolt. “The magical disorder has broken the balance between the elements, and the laws of nature are beginning to loosen. This place is no longer just a place where mages can't cast spells; it may even witness catastrophic elemental anomalies—haven't you seen anything like this before?”

　“No…no, the harsh weather carrying elemental power on the way from Dragon Territory to Cormir was a bit of a hindrance, but it was still within my control. After entering Cormir, even harsh weather became less common.” Isis looked at the streak of lightning with lingering fear, a sense of foreboding rising in her heart. “Should we continue eastward?”

　"You met Cormier at midnight"

Chapter 306

　"Right?" Tie Long didn't answer the question about whether to continue, but instead asked.

　“Yes, I met Midnight in Arabel, and then with them…”

　"Together with them, we went to Bane's fortress to rescue the goddess of magic, and then watched her ascend the stairs to heaven only to be killed by Heim. Her self-destruction sent the surrounding area flying into the sky for dozens of kilometers. And then we had the courage to accept her final commission to find the Tablet of Destiny."

　“How…how did you know?” Isis lowered her head.

　"Should I say you're courageous, or reckless?" Casaroz landed on a flat rock, and the moment its dragon claws touched the ground, it felt a subtle vibration emanating from the surrounding magic. Through continuous information gathering, deduction, and correction, Casaroz could confirm that the fates of Isis and Midnight were intertwined like twin stars, and separating them would even exacerbate the current magical chaos on the continent of Faerûn.

　More importantly, he rescued and taught Isis in Tindor, endowed her with the blood of a true dragon, and instilled in her a great deal of knowledge that did not belong to this world, ultimately making her a being who could directly bear the power of the goddess of magic with her body—unlike Midnight, whose goddess of magic power resided in the pendant, Isis's power was directly integrated into her flesh and blood.

　None of this was accidental. The output of the pseudo-Laplace's demon revealed that the fates of itself, Isis, and Midnight were intertwined in a complex way. The connection between Isis and Midnight was like two strands of a DNA helix, while Casalos was like RNA transcribing DNA information, transcribing and translating the code of fate into the final protein.

　The farther Isis is separated from Midnight, the worse the magical stability of the entire continent of Faerûn will become. It won't trigger a continent-wide magical catastrophe by moving away from Isis, but the farther away it is, the more chaotic the magic around it will become, just like what happened before searching for Isis.

　“We can’t continue eastward,” Casalos said resolutely. “At least, we can’t proceed this way.”

　Isis looked at it, puzzled: "Why?"

　Casalos pondered for a moment, then decided not to tell Isis the truth, as that would only add to her psychological burden. It pointed to the increasingly frequent elemental disturbances in the sky: "See? This situation is getting worse. We need to change our plans."

　"Then what do we do?" Isis rubbed her temples, feeling the magic within her becoming increasingly difficult to control.

　"You need to go find Midnight."

　"What?" Isis's eyes widened. "But she's still in prison! And Storm Silverhand—"

　“I told you Cyric would go to save her,” Casalos interrupted. “My guess is that they will escape along the Ashaba River that runs through Shadow Valley, downstream, through the Great Forest and Valley of Comansel, until the river flows into the Scarred Valley of Dragon Bay.”

　"how do you know?"

　“This is the fastest escape route,” Casalos explained. “Traveling by water eliminates the Mystron Knights’ mobility advantage and also avoids most pursuers and dangerous creatures. The Storm Silverhands can only hire skilled trackers to hunt them down. Unfortunately, Shadowvale doesn’t have any of those right now, except…”

　Isis didn't respond immediately, but instead pondered Casalos's words carefully. After a moment, she nodded: "That makes sense, but do you really think Kevoran would disregard past friendships and hunt down Midnight and the others? He's known for his..."

　Casalos sighed. "Kevlar is also a suspect in Storm Silverhand's scheme. Whatever his motives, if he wants to leave Shadow Valley and find Midnight, he has no choice but to accept Storm Silverhand's offer of employment."

　Isis frowned: "I understand now why you hate Storm Silverhand... What connection do I have with Midnight?"

　"I'm afraid you'll have to discover this problem yourselves." Casalos kept everyone in suspense, then lowered his head and used his dragon beak to open the belly of the dragon, reaching inside with his wing hook to retrieve several items.

　“This is the equipment and tools I’ve prepared for you,” Iron Dragon pushed a flexible, form-fitting bodysuit shimmering with starlight and resembling a full-body shaping latex suit; a heavy sword staff with intricate runes carved on its hilt and a nearly two-meter-long blade; several refined gems; and a bunch of other odds and ends in front of Isis. “The bodysuit uses a new technique of weaving mithril fibers with star-like textures, incorporating the techniques the Githzerai used to fight the Chaos Sea. It’s highly effective against elemental disturbances and can stabilize your magic to some extent, depending on your willpower. The staff can store and cast simple spells without the support of a magic network. It has an adamantite blade and is very heavy and sturdy. These gems contain elemental cores; if you throw them in danger, they can trigger elemental turbulence—over a large area, so be careful when using them. As for the rest…”

　Isis took the equipment in surprise: "You prepared all this in advance?"

　“I always plan ahead.” Casalos shook the dragon’s head. “I also put some other little things in the hidden pockets inside the soft armor lining. Explore them yourself.”

　Isis removed her clothes and put on new, tight-fitting soft armor in front of the dragon. Sure enough, she felt her magic power stabilize immediately, no longer fluctuating violently as before. She held the sword and staff, feeling the power contained within them, and a trace of gratitude flashed in her eyes: "Thank you, mentor."

　“Don’t mention it,” Casalos flicked his dragon tail. “Now, you need to get to the banks of the Ashaba River as soon as possible and find Midnight and the others. If all goes well, you should be able to meet up in the Valley of Scars.”

　"And what about you?" Isis asked, looking up. "Aren't you coming with me?"

　Casalos shook his head. “I have other matters to attend to. But don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on your safety.” He paused, a sly glint in his dragon eyes. “However, I suggest you prepare yourself. Kevoran might not be as friendly as you think. I’ve been observing him for a long time, and in situations like this, he’ll most likely choose to stand on the side he considers ‘just.’ He believes Storm Silverhand’s words, that Midnight is the murderer of Elminster—which doesn’t really matter, since Elminster will come out and clarify the facts. But he… might very well side with Bane.”

　Isis's expression changed: "Impossible! He's been through thick and thin with us for so long..."

　“That’s precisely why his betrayal is so impactful, isn’t it?” Casalos said meaningfully. “That’s human nature—complex and unpredictable. And in your adventure party, Kevoran isn’t the only one with problems.”

　Isis fell silent, her expression complex and difficult to decipher.

　“Alright, don’t overthink it,” Casalos urged. “Time is of the essence, you need to get going as soon as possible. I won’t see you off, you’ll have to head south through the jungle to find the Asaba River, and watch out for those pointy-eared creatures. Although most of them have left Comansel, those that remain are all thorny guys.”

　Isis packed her things and looked at Casalos one last time: "Are you really coming to find us?"

　“Of course,” Tie Long nodded. “Go, my little apprentice, your test has begun.”

　Watching Isis's departing figure, Casalos waited until she completely disappeared from sight before quietly spreading its wings and flying into the sky. It wasn't leaving, but choosing to silently follow above the clouds, observing how this intertwining of fates would unfold.

　The pseudo-Laplace's demon kept working in its mind, trying to unravel a clear trajectory from the woven web, but the result remained unclear—the turbulent chaos had affected the prediction of fate, and the pseudo-Laplace's demon was not the truly omniscient Laplace's demon after all, unable to fully see the road ahead.

　But one thing is certain: Isis and Midnight need to meet, and it needs to make sure that all of this happens smoothly.

　58. Lies

　Cyric was lurking in the darkness of Shadow Valley, as silent as a ghost.

　The morning mist had not yet dissipated, and the damp air was filled with the stench of blood and the charred remains of burning.

Chapter 307

　The taste. After a fierce battle, Shadow Valley finally enjoyed a brief period of peace. The town, having just been ravaged by Bane's army, was like a wounded soldier, barely managing to catch its breath.

　Cyric's objective was clear: Midnight and Eden were imprisoned in the rugged tower under the moonlight, condemned to death by Storm Silverhand. Avoiding the patrolling Valemen, and with the help of Leo-Elminster's assistant, he ascertained the guards' deployment and devised a rescue plan. He tried to persuade Kevoran to join him, but was refused. The warriors' obsession with "law and justice" amused Cyric. That night, he went alone, precisely ending the lives of the two guards with a concealed weapon, and fled towards the Asaba River with the "innocent," beginning their escape by water. Midnight and Eden were unaware of the guards' deaths, but he never regretted it.

　"Necessary sacrifices are for greater good," he told himself.

　Blackfeather Bridge spans the Asaba River, the only way to the Valley of Scars. The low bridge, flanked by moss-covered stone pillars, tells of an ancient history. The Light of Suren illuminates this bridge, a witness to countless legends, and also the waiting Kavoran and the Shadow Valley Harpists' Alliance pursuers behind him.

　"Didn't you talk about 'justice and justice'? Now you're chasing after credit?" Cyric stood at the bow of the ship, coldly staring at the figure on the bridge, the dagger in his hand reflecting the cold moonlight.

　Kavoran didn't respond, his gaze complex and heavy. Since Elminster's disappearance, the risk of his curse spiraling out of control had increased significantly, but what concerned him more was the truth—had Midnight and Eton really killed Elminster? Deep down, he had never truly believed it.

　"Make way, warrior!" Abloh, standing behind him, shouted impatiently. The ranger from the Harpists' Alliance was already getting restless. "Don't waste time!"

　Kavoran turned and warned, "Storm Silverhand's orders are to bring them back alive to Shadow Valley for trial, not to execute them here!"

　Ablo gave a disdainful sneer. "These murderers killed two guards while they were escaping. They don't deserve any mercy!"

　Just then, the Asaba River suddenly became turbulent, with unusual waves rising on the surface, causing the boat to rock violently. Midnight cried out in alarm and grabbed the gunwale to keep his balance.

　"Magic disorder!" she cried, sensing strange magical fluctuations in the air. "The river is affected!"

　Seeing this, Ablo shoved Kevoran aside and shouted, "Don't let them escape! Shoot!"

　Before Kevoran could stop them, three arrows were already launched from their bows, heading straight for the small boat. Cyric reacted quickly, dodging a fatal blow with a sidestep, but the arrows still grazed his shoulder. The other two arrows struck the magical shield erected by Midnight, and the already unstable boat, caught in the turbulent current and the impact of the arrows, completely lost its balance and capsized in the raging river.

　"No!" Kevoran roared, grabbing Ablo's collar. "Do you know what you're doing?!"

　Ablo sneered, "Stop pretending, warrior! You think I don't know you're interested in that mage? Now they're either drowned or swept away by the river, and you'll never see her again!"

　Kavoran felt a familiar surge of heat rise within him—a sign that the power of the curse was being activated. His muscles began to twitch, his bones cracked with a chilling sound, and shadowy spots began to appear on his skin.

　“You don’t understand, Abro,” Kevoran’s voice became hoarse and low, “my curse…unrewarded good deeds will turn me into a beast…”

　Yablo stared in horror at the changes in Kevoran. "You... what kind of monster are you?"

　“You could have survived…” Kevoran’s words had turned into a low growl.

　With a deafening roar, Kavoran's form had completely transformed into a gigantic black panther. Abro drew his short sword in terror, but it was too late. The panther pounced with lightning speed, knocking him to the ground. Abro struggled desperately, but could only watch helplessly as the panther's claws sliced ​​across his throat, blood gushing out and staining the bridge red.

　Seeing this, the other two pursuers immediately dropped their bows and arrows and turned to flee. However, in the instant the black panther pounced on them, Abrol risked losing control of his magic and barely healed the wound that had ripped his throat. Gritting his teeth, he jumped off the bridge into the river and disappeared beneath the dark surface.

　The black panther roared and chased after the remaining pursuers, disappearing into the night, leaving behind bloodstains on the bridge that shimmered with a dark red light under the moonlight.

　At midnight, he desperately clung to Etton's robes to prevent him from being swept away by the current. Etton, a priestess of the goddess of beauty, had been in a daze since the Losanda Temple incident, unresponsive to the danger around him. Cyric, however, was nowhere to be found, likely already swept away by the current.

　At midnight, she managed to grab onto a protruding tree root and pull herself and Eton ashore. Gasping for breath, she looked out over the river, but there was no sign of Cyric, nor of Kevoran or any of her pursuers.

　"No... Cyric..." Midnight whispered, a wave of despair washing over her. Whatever Cyric had done, they had been through so much together.

　Just then, a rustling sound came from the bushes. Midnight, alert, grabbed a stick, ready to fight. But what emerged was Kavoran, completely naked, covered in mud and blood, but already back in human form.

　"Why did you leave me in Shadow Valley?" the warrior asked, cupping Midnight's face in his hands.

　"Kevlar!" Midnight dodged him, a sudden surge of anger rising within her. "Leave you here? You were the one who refused Cyric's request to save us!"

　“What exactly did Cyric say to you?” Kevoran shook his head, his voice hoarse with exhaustion. “Cyric is really good at talking, don’t you think? He understands you, he knows how to make you believe him.”

　"He's lying?" Midnight's voice was filled with anguish. "You never said that?"

　“I said this before the trial,” Kevoran staggered closer, “I thought you would be acquitted. If I had known sooner, I would have helped you escape. Cyric never told me about the escape until the next day… when the bodies were found.”