Lord of Caldera

Chapter 182

The Hydra was known by a less familiar nickname: the dragon that's weak against other dragons. Its deadly venom, feared by all, had no effect whatsoever on its fellow dragon species. One scholar even speculated:

Perhaps the reason it's immune to its own venom lies in the very nature of dragons.

In other words, the Hydra's evolution was flawed; it developed a poison that was harmless to all dragons, not just itself.

Of course, such theories didn't matter much to Sylas. What mattered was that, if he had the dragon's traits, he wouldn't be affected by the venom.

To any dragon, that infamous poison is little more than harmless fluid. If he had faced this before his awakening, Sylas might not have been so confident, as the dragon's bloodline had been dormant for so long that the Corleone clan was barely distinguishable from ordinary humans. But now, he was certain—the Hydra's poison wouldn't harm him.

Yet that Ragnar had spilled everything. In his frustration, Ragnar had ranted wildly, revealing Sylas's immunity. The surrounding people were now eyeing him with a hint of suspicion; after all, the Corleone lineage was widely rumored to be descended from dragons.

Damn it, how do I handle this atmosphere?

Just as Sylas was about to speak to defuse the situation, a booming laugh erupted from two of the candidates, Karl and Doris.@@@@

"Is that so? A truly impressive choice!"

"A dragon, eh? Well, it's not impossible to see it that way!" They laughed so loudly they seemed nearly ready to roll on the floor.

After wiping tears from their eyes, the two choked out between chuckles, "Well then, best of luck to you. The dragon descendant, right?"

"Certainly, ha ha ha! Not even poison could affect you, right?"

Sylas gave them a blank stare. These guys really don't believe it.

It wasn't uncommon for people to embellish or even fabricate their ancestry to enhance their family's prestige, and they probably thought Corleone's claim was just that. Here in the North, far from the Corleone homeland, it seemed little more than an improbable story.

Ragnar and Logain, realizing the situation, wore mocking smiles as well.

"Indeed, we applaud your courage."

"There's no shame in being proud of your ancestors."

"Prepare to collect their remains, I say."

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"Watch your words. Are you wishing death upon them?"

"Just facing the reality. Who fights a dragon alone?"

"Unless you're stopping them, keep quiet. We don't want to hear it."

Many of the younger or more idealistic nobles glared at the pessimists, silencing them. Who knew? This might be the moment when a new hero emerged. None wanted to dampen the excitement with morbid comments.

"The candidates will now depart for the dragons' lairs. As for how they kill their targets and the proof they bring back, it's entirely up to them."

"That sounds too vague, doesn't it?"

"It's vague because it doesn't matter," Ragnar replied with a grin.

"If they want to survive, they'll fight well. If they want recognition, they'll bring back a trophy that leaves no doubt."

Just trying to pass off a claw or a scale wouldn't fool anyone. Those truly vying for the throne would endure whatever hardships it took to bring back a dragon's head.

"By the way, anyone who wants to bring food is free to do so," Ragnar announced. "Whether you pack it from here or hunt for it yourself along the way."

"Wait a moment. Are you saying we're supposed to travel to the dragon's lair alone?" asked Karl, one of the candidates. Ragnar frowned.

"That's what I've said from the beginning."

"Surely, we're allowed at least a few attendants? Not for fighting but just for basic assistance."

"You want them to serve you?"

"Yes, exactly."

Ragnar's eyes flashed with disdain. "Why don't you bring a nurse along while you're at it? She can spoon feed you meals while you suckle like a babe."