Dracotitán

"There's no need for this!" Seeing a group of green dragons kneeling in submission to Muria, the golden dragoness, Kaslana, communicated with some helplessness to Muria, "They are a group of chromatic dragons, not worthy of becoming your followers."

As a lawful good golden dragon, Kaslana inherently looked down upon the chromatic dragons with a mix of pride and prejudice. Among the metallic dragons, silver dragons, ranked second, could evenly match a red dragon of the same age, not to mention golden dragons.

Kaslana was confident in her absolute superiority over any chromatic dragon of the same age.

"Moreover, brother Muria, with your status, many metallic dragons would willingly follow you. You really don't need to accept a group of green dragons."

"Metallic dragon clan." Muria pondered silently, looking at the mature woman with green hair and the two soul-level green dragons kneeling before him, along with thirteen gold-level green dragons.

Not all green dragons were willing to follow Muria. If he were the descendant of an evil dragon king, these green dragons would undoubtedly defect en masse and join Muria.

But he was a golden dragon, making many green dragons uncomfortable, as the nature of good dragons differed greatly from that of evil dragons. Generally, a green dragon would choose to follow a more powerful dragon of its kind rather than a dragon of another species.

"Even if I were a descendant of the Dragon King, not many metallic dragons would follow me," Muria shook his head upon hearing the golden dragoness's words. "After all, we metallic dragons are accustomed to being solitary."

Dragons, being apex predators, typically leave their parents' protection once they attain a certain strength, find their own territory, and live independently.

Among the chromatic dragons, except for blue and green dragons, which tend to live in communities, red and black dragons are solitary, coming together only during mating seasons to find a mate.

As for white dragons, labeled as a disgrace to dragonkind, their situation is unique, with some living in communities and others living solitarily, mainly due to their own making. After all, those wishing to gain fame by slaying dragons often target white dragons first.

The communal living of blue and green dragons is largely due to the influence of Tiamat, the mother of evil dragons. Indeed, among her followers, these two types of dragons have the highest proportions.

"If you are unwilling to follow me, that's fine," Muria, after much thought, gestured to the green dragons who were contemplating or had made up their minds, "Just stay put and wait for the Emerald Mother to ransom you."

The fifteen chains, branched from the Nebula Chains, clanged, releasing those green dragons willing to follow Muria, granting them freedom.

"I have a question!" Muria raised an eyebrow, looking at the fifteen green dragons: "You all are followers of Tiamat, aren't you? Are you nominal followers or devout followers?"

"Cough, Lord Muria, I am just a nominal follower," the very old green dragon Fiona coughed out.

"I am also a nominal follower."

"Me too."

After asking around, Muria found that all the green dragons willing to follow him were nominal followers, meaning they could easily convert to another deity—slightly better than the modern people who would kneel before any deity they saw.

"What level of followers are you?" Muria's gaze turned to the seventeen green dragons bound tightly.

"Lord Muria, they are all devout followers of Tiamat. I have seen them offering copper coins as tributes to the statues of the Mother of Chromatic Dragons."

Being a dragon and offering copper coins to one's deity indeed counts as true devotion.

Offering silver coins indicates extreme devotion.

Offering gold coins would undoubtedly classify one as a fanatic.

However, over tens of thousands of years, such dragons have been even rarer than world-renowned dragons like Atreus, numbering only a few. Devout followers are almost the limit for dragons. Going beyond that is nearly impossible.

After all, most beings that worship deities are weaker creatures and races. In a world filled with danger, the weak can only pray to deities for protection and a chance to survive.

But dragons are born with immense power. As long as they survive their early stages, they can live comfortably. Ordinary disasters are merely spectacles for them, unable to harm them.

Thus, the stronger a creature is, the less likely it is to worship deities.

"Understood," Muria nodded, then turned his gaze towards the city outskirts, where a crippled red dragon awaited his conquest.

...

"How have you considered it?" Muria crossed the sky, accompanied by the golden dragoness, looking down at the nearly lifeless Crimson Wing Otris—the Demonslaying Sword embedded in it continually drained its power.

"Are these green dragons willing to submit to you?" Red dragon Otris looked up at the fifteen green dragons surrounding Muria, somewhat shocked.

"Yes!"

"If I am unwilling to submit, will my fate be the same as those green dragons you have captured?" Otris gestured towards the seventeen green dragons bound together by Muria.

"What good do you think awaits you?" Muria looked amusedly at the red dragon Otris. "I've bound these green dragons because the Emerald Mother, Ysera, might pay to ransom them back. But who would pay to ransom you if I bound you?"

"..." Otris fell silent. Who would ransom him? As a lone dragon, he was self-sufficient, but that also meant no other dragon would care about his fate.

Parents? Otris vividly remembered being ruthlessly expelled from the dragon's lair by his parents right after entering adolescence, marking the start of his nomadic life.

Siblings? Given the survival rate of red dragons, Otris doubted any siblings were still alive.

Offspring? Indeed, he had mated with several strong female red dragons, producing several clutches of eggs, but like his parents, he kicked them out once they reached adolescence.

Setting aside how many of his offspring were still alive in the world, even if he found them, they probably wouldn't care about his life or death, just as he had done in the past.

Thus, with a hint of hope, Otris looked at Muria: "Can I ransom myself?"

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