The Red Dragon Just Wants To Do As It Pleases

David had become known among his subordinates for his signature opening move—he always started by emptying his lungs of flame.

After a seaside barbecue, those 'Children of Battle,' who must have possessed the audacity of a bear or leopard to even think of targeting an Elf ship, suddenly suffered heavy casualties.

However, since they discovered the 'anomaly' that was David relatively early and escaped quickly, dispersing in an instant, the majority of them managed to get away.

Frustrated, David, who possessed overwhelming power, stomped his feet in vexation.

But having already sampled the heads of Ogres and Rosinde, he truly couldn't bring himself to feast on these Barbarians who rarely bathed. Consequently, he didn't use the Authority of Gluttony to gather intelligence directly.

And so he once again fell into his routine state of Wrath...

Even David's Silver Dragon father, Attilicia, had gradually grown accustomed to his explosive temper, which often saw him instantly go full throttle, unleashing his fiery breath.

As the Drow used fishing nets to retrieve several severely scalded Barbarians from the water, the captives, barely cooked to medium-rare and not even subjected to a proper interrogation, immediately confessed everything.

These Barbarians, who hadn't yet had the chance for battle-induced adrenaline to block their pain, only wished for a swift death.

With such severe injuries, even if they were let go, they probably wouldn't live long enough to reach their tribe's Shaman.

After all, being Barbarians, they lacked any real custom or culture of deliberately hiding secrets, nor was there any need for them to do so.

But as the interrogation concluded and the information became clear, the two Drow couldn't help but look at each other in astonishment, and then at a similarly stunned David.

"Master... the current situation seems to be something like this."

So the origin of this bizarre development was none other than I, David Uthos, myself!

Just as the High Elf Yevgeny had initially worried, some things, once broken, are hard to return to their former state. This included, for instance, the pricing and rules that once favored sellers in the market, or the initial impressions people formed.

Previously, in the eyes of the Barbarians, the High Elves were like Divine Envoys from overseas. They left an impression of being advanced in weaponry, powerful in combat, undefeated, and inviolable.

But this impression was utterly shattered during the battle at the South Foothills of the Katjana Mountains, when David, the Crimson Hatchling from the sky, crushed it instantly.

From that day on, the Barbarian tribes around the mountains began to hear about this battle. They slowly realized that the lofty, long-eared High Elves were not as invincible as they once imagined!

Just a single Crimson Hatchling had routed an entire Elf battalion.

Just like that!?

Barbarians born and raised on the Old Continent—whose clan ancestors hadn't slain a few stray Hatchlings?

They had even slaughtered adult White Dragons before.

If someone had the guts to go to a large market near the Holy Temple of the Father of Battle and shout, "Who the hell is a Dragon Slayer?" they could probably get a dozen to stand up immediately.

After all, a Hatchling is still a Dragon, isn't it?

Besides, if one were to chop off a Dragon Beast's head, others might not even be able to tell if it was a True Dragon or not, right?

In short, due to the prevalence of Chromatic Dragons across the Old Continent, 'sham Dragon Slayers' were ridiculously common.

But it was precisely this kind of analogy that instantly dragged the image of the High Elves from the clouds down into the mud.

This time, the Barbarians collectively remembered the hardships they had faced under the arrogant exploitation of the High Elves, as well as the humiliation of having their heads and dignity trampled underfoot.

They all expressed a desire to settle the score with the High Elves.

Quite coincidentally, a tribe of Barbarians living on the edge of Pafila's territory saw an opportunity.

While out hunting, they came across around three hundred unarmed High Elves who seemed to be escorting some sort of cargo.

Malicious thoughts immediately took root in their minds.

But just as they prepared themselves for a tough fight and charged forward, before the battle had even properly begun, lo and behold, the several hundred High Elves dropped their cargo and scattered on the spot.

They left behind stacks upon stacks of gold and silver treasures in wooden chests made of raw logs, a sight that directly dazzled the eyes.

The Barbarians even began to suspect that these Elves had just stolen a young Dragon's hoard.

As such an abundance of treasure flooded into the Barbarian markets, rumors—boasted by those who claimed to have overcome an Elven army—began to spread.

The High Elves had already been pushed into the mire by David. Now, in the eyes of these Barbarians of the North—at least in the eyes of those lower-class Barbarians with little experience—they were no different from Goblins.

And so, they sharpened their knives and turned their hungry gazes toward the Elves.

Meanwhile, after a few encounters with these High Elf prisoners of war, who had become incredibly weak, the rumors that High Elves were less combat-effective than Goblins became even more entrenched.

"Wait! The treasure they're talking about... could it be the tribute Nifadora paid to me?" David asked, a growing sense of unease making him somewhat slow on the uptake.

"...Yes," the Drow Mage replied timidly.

With a loud BANG, a furious David almost tore the ship apart on the spot. "Who the hell gave them the courage to plunder the treasure of David Uthos! And that damned Yevgeny! Such a major incident, and she didn't report it to me through Hiatt immediately? I think she's been living a little too comfortably lately, hasn't she?"

"She did report it! She reported it to Chief Hiatt the very same day!" In utmost fear and anxiety, the Drow's tongue nearly tied itself in knots.

Seeing David's expression change abruptly, the Drow Mage hurriedly continued her explanation, "But Master, you were in seclusion in the Duke of Silver's workshop, practicing alchemy at that time! Chief Hiatt did try to contact you, but she couldn't get a glimpse of you for a whole week!"

Whether that High Elf slave had lived comfortably this past year, the Drow Mage didn't know. But if she couldn't help Chief Hiatt absolve herself of blame right now, her own currently comfortable life was likely to come to an abrupt end!

"And after that week? Was the matter just dropped!?"

Concerning his own treasure, David did not intend to let anyone off the hook.

"After a week, Lady Nifadora, who was aware of the matter, had already retrieved most of the treasure. She made up for the loss by plundering several Barbarian tribes near her territory, even ending up with a surplus. She also said that, considering your mood, she decided it would be best to wait until you returned to the territory to personally report the situation. That's why we temporarily refrained from mentioning it to you."

Nobody expected that this wait would turn into over a year.

Hearing this, David finally quelled the urge to crush the Soul Prism with one claw.

It seems that under my tutelage, these two Elven slaves have become quite effective. They've shown no transgressive behavior for nearly two years.

But Nifadora, that female Green Dragon... her actions... While certainly considerate, it really gives off the vibe that she's under the illusion of being the head matriarch, doesn't it?!

A lewd thought! PFFT, PFFT, PFFT! Dismissing the absurd imagery of a large dragon crushing a little dragon, David quickly banished the somewhat overly exciting notion from his mind.

I'm still just a hatchling, a dragon child! Dragons shouldn't be—at least, they can't be—so perverse. I must have misunderstood Nifadora's intentions.

After all, it concerned treasure, treasure that was originally hers. Before leaving, he had given her temporary administrative authority over the Dragon Nest camp.

Her handling of the situation was indeed within her rights.

If he had heard the news back then, at a time when even scraping all his scales wouldn't have yielded more than about a thousand Gold Coins, driven by Wrath, he might indeed have rushed straight back to the Old Continent...

In that case, I really should reward this sensible female Green Dragon properly.

With these thoughts, David's Wrath began to subside.

But hearing this intelligence, he felt that these Barbarians, who seemed to have gotten a taste of easy gains, had become far too bold recently.

Looks like I'll have to find some time to teach them a lesson the hard way.

It was time to make these primitives, still eating raw flesh and drinking blood, understand clearly.

Right now! Who the hell is the true master of this Old Continent, of Skanis? That, of course, is I, David Uthos Sed Ponga! And my dear mother—the Crimson Calamity... Pafila...