CHAPTER 66: CHAPTER 65: TURNING POINT

After learning all this, David understood the ’value’ of the gift Nifadora had brought.

These were potential followers! And it would be best to subjugate them as soon as possible.

It wasn’t that he was concerned about his poor Chromatic Dragon kin, who might be harassed by the Barbarians at any moment. As a Red Dragon, not reveling in their misfortune already demonstrated a sense of ’racial honor.’

Just as Nifadora had said, if he allowed the situation to develop, the troubles plaguing the Chromatic Dragons of the Old Continent could very well become his own.

The reason was simple. Although the High Elves had cracked the follower ritual countless years ago, it had been of little use to them. Coupled with their Pride, they had simply shelved it.

But if this ’backdoor’ to the follower ritual were to spread among the Highland Barbarians, or even the humans of Central Earth... Or, to exaggerate slightly, if some legendary wanderers with too much time on their hands and a penchant for chronicling their observations took it to other planes and disseminated it...

Then, whether he, David, admitted to it or not, the Chromatic Dragons would most likely pin the blame on his draconic head.

After all, he was the first unfortunate Dragon whose blood had been used by Barbarians in such a manner.

If he didn’t resolve the issue at its source before it spread, it was possible that in a few hundred years, his ’glorious record’ might earn him a special mention with the Chromatic Dragon Queen Tiamat herself.

If his reputation soured, his future path would likely become much more difficult.

Even the Githyanki Red Dragon Knights, who sometimes acted as Astral Mercenaries, might refuse his paid requests to hire their services. If his reputation among Chromatic Dragons became too terrible, they could easily decline, perhaps claiming, ’We’ve just accepted a contract to annihilate a Heart Snatchers’ city-state.’

With the notorious Pride of the High Elves serving as a cautionary tale, David had no desire to repeat their mistakes.

He recalled that when the Magic Enigma Lock was cracked by a dragon and replicated to guard lairs, the High Elves had engaged in numerous conflicts over who should bear responsibility.

Even during the chaotic later stages of the Crown War, Elf Kings had frequently used the matter as a pretext for declaring war.

In terms of how badly blame was assigned, that incident was probably second only to The Catastrophe of Sasserine—the explosion of the Magic Power Well (which was under construction at the time).

And although taking action might seem like cleaning up the dragons’ mess—after all, this follower ritual was most likely leaked by some ancient dragon sage who couldn’t resist the High Elves’ sugar-coated incentives—it wasn’t without its benefits.

For David, who was desperately short of manpower, this was a godsend—like being given a pillow when one is sleepy.

Honestly, he hadn’t held much respect for these weaklings who kowtowed to the High Elves, only daring to harbor resentment without voicing it.

But now that they had actually managed to benefit from that unreliable, cracked follower ritual and survive, David had to reassess them.

He wouldn’t even need to bother selecting the first batch of warriors. This group of Highland Barbarians had likely already undergone a preliminary screening through that batch of Dragon Blood.

Those who had successfully endured it were probably already comparable to new recruits in the neighboring Warhammer setting who had passed physical tests for fitness, strength, and endurance, as well as at least a psychological assessment of their willpower.

As long as he, the Master of Dragon Blood, personally presided over the ritual, he could quickly obtain a group of followers with considerable combat power. The results would depend on how much of his own blood he was willing to expend in the ceremony.

These would be far more reliable than those High Elf prisoners of war, who constantly teetered on the brink of mutiny.

Even those who only underwent the most basic Dragon Blood enhancement ritual would be akin to a weaker version of new Space Marine recruits, having effectively completed the equivalent of the first three critical enhancements: a second heart, skeletal reinforcement, and muscular augmentation.

If this were quantified in game terms, it would grant at least a +1 or +2 bonus to Strength and Endurance, roughly a one-fifth attribute increase for an adult.

Genetically, Highland Barbarians already possessed about 2 points more Strength than ordinary humans.

Undergoing a formal follower enhancement ritual conducted by him, the Master of Dragon Blood, could potentially grant them another 1 to 2 points.

And if they then took up a suitable combat profession...

David grew increasingly eager at the thought.

Only one problem remained, a perplexing and rather troublesome one.

David turned his head towards the Green Dragon Nifadora and asked in the Dragon Tongue, "Has he told you what sort of grudge or grievance he holds against me?"

The Barbarian before him was the key to a shortcut. If David couldn’t handle him, he would have to expend considerably more effort.

At this critical juncture, just as he was about to depart for the New Continent, he truly didn’t have the time to deal with such a ’minor inconvenience’ in a drawn-out fashion.

"You killed his loved one," Nifadora stated truthfully.

"Oh." David remained outwardly unfazed. It was probably one of the Barbarians who died in the battle at the South Foothills, he thought.

Judging by the hatred in the man’s eyes, he was likely someone capable of deep affection.

Since reconciliation was impossible, it seemed he had no choice but to eliminate him and find another solution.

"It seems to be an Ogre named Monado," Nifadora added after a moment’s thought.

An Ogre?! His loved one?! Barbarians and Ogres?

David was utterly shocked. He felt he’d truly seen it all now.

He also finally recalled which loved one it was—the Ogre chieftain who had indeed posed a significant threat to him.

He couldn’t help but look at the fiercely glaring man, thinking with a strange sort of admiration, Brother! You’ve got some real guts to get involved with an Ogre...

While it was true that the broad chests and ample buttocks of Ogres had tempted quite a few dragons in heat to pounce, in other respects, even dragons found their appearance rather unappealing.

David took a deep breath. He looked at this man—this Barbarian who would couple with an Ogre—and spoke to him solemnly in the Barbarian tongue, "I have learned of the enmity between us from this Green Dragon. Since the tragedy has occurred and hatred has taken root, let us settle it today. Speak, warrior. Before you depart, do you have any last wishes or final words?"

The Drow attendant promptly removed the chain gagging the Barbarian, Rosinde.

The man, initially furious and resentful, seemed surprised that a Red Dragon would treat a condemned prisoner with such solemnity. He calmed somewhat and, after a moment of thought, asked in a rather dazed voice, "I want to know... how did Monado die?"

David replied truthfully, "We encountered each other in the wilderness. They intended to eat me. After a battle, I consumed them. That is all."

"You... consumed her? Truly?" The Barbarian suddenly grew agitated.

If the Drow hadn’t been holding his chains, he might have lunged at David’s legs.

"You heard correctly. I consumed her," David repeated with uncharacteristic patience.

"Then... are her remains still intact? If it’s possible... could her skull be returned to me?" Rosinde asked, his tone almost a humble plea.

What on earth is this fellow planning?

...? The situation was developing in a way David hadn’t anticipated.

Seemingly noticing David’s confusion, the Green Dragon Nifadora leaned closer and whispered near his auditory membrane, "According to Ogre beliefs and traditions, they decapitate their deceased kin and bring the heads back to their tribe. Then, using a secret ritual, they crush the skulls and brew them with a specific type of mushroom into a soup, which they then consume.

"They believe this allows them to ’see’ the departed tribe member once more. They also hold that the dead, in this manner, become one with them, living on eternally within their bodies.

"It’s even possible they believe the deceased might be reborn from their own body, perhaps as a second head.

"I believe he might be intending precisely that. Perhaps this is a turning point."