The Paladin in the Abyss-Chapter 522 - 546

Chapter 522: 546 Chapter 522: 546 Although Lancelot had become the new master of this Undead army, he had no immediate plans for them. The companions set out once more, leaving the Giant Zombies behind and continued heading toward the direction of Volstade Town in the west.

In the first few days after leaving Gorgiad Fortress, the journey went exceptionally smoothly. Apart from the occasional encounter with wandering polar beasts, the party didn’t run into any trouble. Clearly, the fortress was the destination for the Frost Giants coming from the Garden of Yser, and the massive rift was just as difficult for the flightless Frost Giants to cross, forcing Kostcheqi’s minions to choose alternative routes to provide reinforcements to the fortress.

However, as they drew nearer to Volstade, the plains once again became crowded. A large number of Frost Giant Tribes had settled around the small town, waiting for random Portals that provided raiding opportunities. These Portals mostly led to some equally frigid and snowy location in the Material Plane, offering these Frost Giants a good “landing” stage for their raiding activities.

When traveling through the sparsely populated wilderness, Lancelot’s Spirit Perception could help the team avoid enemies well, but it was not very effective in this denser population of creatures. After several dangerously close encounters with Frost Giant Tribes, Lancelot realized that heading to Volstade was impossible unless he was prepared to challenge all the gathered Frost Giant Tribes on his own, which was clearly unrealistic.

After all, they were here to find clues that could assist with their mission, not to sightsee the Iron Ice Plains. Since the Giant town was difficult to approach, they decided to bypass it.

Volstade could be bypassed, but the next destination was a place they must visit—the White Dragon Svafnir’s Lair. According to what they had seen earlier in Moradin’s Temple, the colossal lizard was guarding the entrance to the Glacial Fortress. If possible, Lancelot still hoped to find some way to avoid a direct confrontation with the White Dragon, and that way was likely to be found in its lair.

According to old Reap’s map, Svafnir’s lair was located about two hundred miles northwest of Volstade in the mountains, and to avoid Volstade, the group could only head southwest first. After covering a considerable distance, they would turn west. It took them about two weeks, making an extra round of nearly seven hundred miles in the mountains. They fought with various exotic polar magical beasts along the way and finally neared the peak where the lair was situated.

...

From a distance, their destination stood towering above the surrounding mountains, a conspicuous cleft on the snow-covered summit where the White Dragon entered and exited its lair. Fortunately, they did not have to face fierce blizzards or climb thousands of feet on the cold, slippery slopes to reach the White Dragon’s nest—old Reap reported that at the mountain’s base lived a tribe of Fencer Trolls that worshiped the White Dragon as a guardian deity. They had carved complex tunnels in the mountain, leading directly into the White Dragon’s Lair, to offer tribute and food.

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Due to the harsh climate of the Iron Ice Plains, the numbers of Fencer Trolls had dwindled over the years, and most areas of the tunnels lacked guards, so the party might find a shortcut to the White Dragon’s Lair.

On the eve of reaching the peak, the company found a spacious cave for camping. Conditions were good, and with no threatening creatures nearby, the companions didn’t spend the night in the demi-plane as usual; instead, they lit a bonfire. They roasted a ferocious rhinoceros they had caught earlier and listened to the Elves tell stories about Dragons.

“For most Adventurers, battling with Dragons is the highlight of their career, and often their last. Some of them succeed in slaying a dragon, obtaining enough treasure to retire on the spot. Still, many more realize they’re just offering themselves up as dinner the moment a dragon appears.” The Elf gently turned the skewers on the grill, making sure the fat and lean meat were adequately heated, “Frankly, if it weren’t for Lancelot, our team’s chances of becoming dinner would be a lot higher, even if the opponent is just a White Dragon…”

“Why is that?” Bruto asked, holding a cup filled with honey mead in one hand and three skewers in the other, his voice muffled. “Is the White Dragon weaker than the other Dragons?”

“Of course, as everyone knows, the White Dragon is the weakest among the colored dragons,” said Alamir as he took another skewer of meat from Lancelot and neatly stacked them on the grill, “What, don’t your Dwarves teach about dragons?”

“They do, but I basically didn’t listen,” Bruto answered proudly, “You can give me a makeup lesson.”

“I’m also interested in knowing,” Lancelot chimed in from the side, “In the world I come from, dragons only exist in fairytales.”

“Well then, where should I start? First off, there’s no question that Dragons are among the most powerful species in the Multiverse, these winged reptiles are renowned far and wide for their image as greedy and cunning predators…”

“That’s pretty much what I’ve heard in stories,” Lancelot said as he sat on the other side of the campfire, shooting inches of green-blue Sword Aura from his fingers, perfectly slicing off chunks of meat with an ideal fat-to-lean ratio from the rhinoceros’s carcass, “And they also like to transform into ordinary intelligent beings, right?”

“You’re referring to that innkeeper in Mogrondale, right? It should be an exception, because most colored dragons disdain the idea of taking the form of other races. Rather, it’s the Metal dragons, interested in fine food and art, that enjoy blending into mortal societies. But since they mostly don’t show their true selves, the image of Dragons in everyone’s minds is all spoiled by those colored dragons.”

“Is it possible that the Red Dragon we saw was also disguised?” Lancelot asked curiously, “Its real form is actually another kind of Metal dragon?”

“Based on what I know about dragons, that’s absolutely impossible,” the Elf shook his head decisively, “A dragon might disguise itself as another creature, but never as a dragon of another kind. Pride would never allow them to do such a thing.”

“Okay then,” Lancelot nodded, somewhat disappointed, “Let’s get back to the original topic, why is the White Dragon considered the weakest among the colored dragons?”

“First, the intelligence of White Dragons is significantly lower than that of other True Dragons; even an adult White Dragon’s intelligence won’t be more than…” the Elf glanced at Bruto next to him, “Our Dwarf friend here is smarter.”

“Haha, very funny,” Bruto replied expressionlessly, “Go on, their weakness must be more than just being slow-witted, right? Because you’ve had your pathetic ass saved by slow-witted me more than a few times…”