Show Them a Fierce One - chapter 14

Here’s a little-known fact: the Dragon Race rarely uses Magic Potions. In fact, many dragons have lived for thousands of years without ever knowing what a Magic Potion is.

Thanks to their unreasonable physical resilience, the Dragon Race possesses such formidable anti-magic properties that Magic Potions and similar magical items simply fail to produce their intended effects on them.

When dragons are injured, their options for healing are truly limited: either they tough it out with sheer willpower, or pray for a miracle. Whether it’s a Magic Potion or the healing spells of the Church of Light, neither offers much help. Fortunately, the Dragon Race’s self-healing ability is extremely strong, which has kept their already rare population from becoming endangered.

As Red Dragon Beowulf once said, just give him a few years and he’ll regrow his wings. This trait of consuming mana to restore themselves applies to both their limbs and internal organs.

So, technically speaking, unless you can kill a dragon in one blow, it’s actually quite difficult to finish one off for good.

Before leaving Dragon Island, Red Dragon Beowulf had never even heard of the term “Magic Potion,” nor could he comprehend the concept. Injured? Isn’t that something you can just lick and heal? Sick? Every shiny gem in the dragon lair on Dragon Island will bless you.

Strangely enough, he does know about alcohol. After sneaking a sip of mead from his elders for the first time, he was instantly hooked. He’d even witnessed wounded human adventurers on Dragon Island pouring strong liquor on their blades to dig out poisoned flesh…

And so, a misunderstanding was born.

The Red Dragon has always believed that “Magic Potion” and “Cocktail” are simply different names for types of alcohol, since in his view, both are liquids that require strict procedures like mixing, blending, and stirring. It’s just that the former tastes terrible, while the latter is a gift from the god of commerce. Yes, he’s not only a dragon who loves to drink, but also one who loves Cocktails.

Anuo, unaware of all this, simply replied to his classmate, “I-don’t-know-how.”

“My Dragon God, you haven’t learned bartending yet?” The Red Dragon chatted with his Elf classmate through the iron bars, his expression lively and animated. “I should’ve guessed. Honestly, brother, it’s not a very useful class. If you’re like me and just want free drinks, let me advise you to give up early. I’ve tasted every sample ‘drink’ in the professor’s office-let’s just say, if he opened a shop, he’d starve himself.”

The Red Dragon’s chatterbox nature was on full display in his enthusiasm. At the same time, his likes and dislikes were clear: the amber-eyed woman is a Dragon Knight-he dislikes her, and the red-haired human she brought is also annoying; the purple-eyed Demon Race member who signed a contract with him is a good demon-he likes him, and the Elf brought by the Demon Race was once his classmate-double the affection!

It was only at this point that Beowulf remembered to ask, “Oh, right, Contractor, what’s your name?”

Leya, listening nearby, nearly had a brain hemorrhage, wishing she could roar at the Red Dragon’s walnut-sized brain: When you left home, didn’t your elders on Dragon Island tell you not to sign contracts with strangers? You don’t even know their name!

“Ludwig.” Ludwig smiled and gave a simple self-introduction, also reporting Anuo’s name, “He’s Anuolaide. I assume you haven’t been classmates for long and don’t know each other well yet. I’ll have someone help you handle the follow-up; you just need to quietly accept the punishment from the sheriff’s office.”

“No problem, don’t worry, consider it another favor I owe you.” The Red Dragon youth really isn’t the type to stir up trouble; most of the time, he’s law-abiding. All his negative emotions were reserved for today.

In fact, Beowulf’s easygoing nature made him quite popular at school. He’s not so proud that he refuses all help-he just refuses help from the Dragon Knight.

This brings us back to the issue of the two factions on Dragon Island.

The Conservative Faction of the Dragon Race believes that the relationship between dragons and Dragon Knights isn’t one-sided; dragons aren’t mere tools. Many dragons dislike taking human form, but their massive bodies make delicate tasks difficult, so human agility comes in handy-Dragon Knights help them file their claws, polish the scales on their backs… It’s quite comfortable.

The Free Dragon Faction can’t deny this, so they simply propose, “No matter how convenient, we don’t need it.” As the strongest of the new generation in the Free Dragon Faction, Beowulf would never accept help from Leya.

Leya the Knight was helpless, even if she could swear to the Dragon God that she had no intention of boasting about helping Beowulf.

“You don’t know how, but the humans around you might.” The Red Dragon youth bared his teeth at Prince Adam; he’s not completely clueless, just devotes his limited wits to fighting his “enemies.”

The Third Prince shrugged noncommittally. Of course, he’d want credit for his good deeds-how else would he win the support of the voters?
The Glory Empire has always had a rather peculiar rule compared to other human nations-although the country is a monarchy, every new king is elected by all citizens from among all princes and princesses. For every heir who wishes to inherit the throne, the very first thing they learn at the academy is how to please the voters.

And boasting about what they have done for the citizens and the nation is already an instinct engraved in their bones and blood.

Soon, visiting hours at the detention center were over. When the group of four left, Beowulf’s friends were already waiting in the small building of the security office. Most of these people were students from the Sky Fortress-some came to pay bail, some to plead for leniency, and some to testify that this really was Beowulf’s first offense. He loved to drink, yes, but he had always been a good dragon…

Beowulf was truly well-liked.

That afternoon, the security office announced their punishment.

Considering that Red Dragon Beowulf was a first-time offender, had shown good remorse, and that multiple victims-including the school-had issued statements of forgiveness, and… since the Miss District truly had no relevant laws or regulations regarding drunken flying, they decided to impose the following penalties on Beowulf: “Five days of detention, one year of traffic safety law study, and a five-year flight ban (except for special circumstances involving life safety).”

It was a result everyone could accept.

Ludwig’s subordinate, the “Great Demon Mother” Radia, dutifully took over the follow-up handling of the Red Dragon’s punishment, including but not limited to: paying the various compensations to the school and injured pedestrians on his behalf, checking his recitation of traffic safety laws, and using devilish training to further improve the Red Dragon’s already impressive abilities.

The last part was something Anuo couldn’t quite understand, just as he didn’t understand what kind of contract Ludwig had signed with the Red Dragon.

“That contract was just to scare him,” Ludwig said, not blinking an eye. “If you don’t pay a price, how can you learn pain, right? As for the training, do you know that the entry ticket to the Six Races Grand Competition is Origin Power?”

Anuo nodded-of course he knew. He’d watched the crystal recordings of past Six Races Grand Competition events on the Falres Continent many times; he was a true fan.

As the grand event held once every six hundred years on the Falres Continent, the Six Races Grand Competition was, at its inception, a microcosm of the millennia-long divine wars. Everyone wanted to be the boss, everyone wanted to call the shots, but the devastation brought by large-scale magical wars nearly destroyed the continent that everyone depended on for survival. Thus, the gods bestowed the divine contract, and the Six Races Grand Competition was born.

There was still competition among the races, but casualties were minimized.

Although it’s called the Six Races, it doesn’t mean only six races compete. Rather, from countless participating races, the six strongest on the continent at the time are selected. The results of such a competition indirectly determine the power structure of the continent for the next six hundred years.

The last Six Races Grand Competition ended with the Elf Race, Dragon Race, Demon Race, Sea Race, Human Race, and Orc Race as the top six.

Minor races such as Dwarves, Treants, and Undead have been sharpening their skills over the years, eager to return to the summit.

And the entry ticket for competitors in the Six Races Grand Competition is Origin Power. The sacred codex engraved with the divine contract automatically selects the few newcomers from each race who have developed the strongest Origin Power over the past six hundred years.

“Beowulf may not be the brightest, but his magical strength is formidable. There’s a high chance he’ll become one of the Dragon Race’s Electors this year,” Ludwig said offhandedly, revealing a secret that most people on the continent still didn’t know. “Ah, wait, does the Dragon Race call them Electors? I think, like humans, they’re called…”

“Heroes!” Anuo blurted out, already very familiar with the term.

“Yes, the Heroes of the Dragon Race and Human Race aren’t entirely tied to internal power structures. Such a strange rule, isn’t it?” At least, for the Demon Race, who believe in survival of the fittest, it’s strange-in the Demon Realm, the strong rule everything. Ludwig fiddled with a chess piece in his hand and continued, “I just wanted to help a classmate get some early training.”

So that’s how it was. Anuo suddenly understood.

Ludwig continued, seemingly offhandedly, “By the way, are you interested in improving yourself too?”

Anuo looked at his friend in confusion, thought for a moment, then pointed at the moon outside the Dormitory at night and asked, “Do-you-think-it-looks-like-cheese?”

“Huh?” This time it was Ludwig’s turn to be baffled. What kind of non sequitur was that?

“That-is-how-I-feel.” You asked a really silly question. Anuo gently expressed to his friend: I’m a well-known Prince Brother who’s a total slacker-why should I worry about training for the Six Races Grand Competition? I just need to sit in the audience and wave a flag, right?

After sleeping until the next day, Anuo suddenly remembered-oh no, he hadn’t made it to the chapel again. How was he going to explain that to his sister? Help!

Author’s Note:

*Great Demon Mother Radia: Derived from Caribbean local mythology, the full name should be Radia Blis. Most likely only the name will be used, and there will be significant differences from the original myth.