Chapter 34 | Born as a Dragon, Sorry About That?

In the blink of an eye, the blade was right before his eyes.

The young beastkin showed no fear whatsoever.

Staring intently at the human man before him, whose features were twisted into a grimace, he etched this hideous face deep into his mind.

After his death, if he was fortunate enough, he might transform into an undead.

He would definitely return to seek vengeance.

“Whoosh!”

“Clang!!!”

Just as the blade was about to split Cezar in two, a sharp whistling sound pierced the air!

Immediately following it, a shower of sparks erupted!

The man holding the broadsword took half a step back, his hand gripping the weapon turning numb.

“Damn it, what the hell was that?!”

Everyone turned to look, only to see a crudely made stone spear embedded quietly in the ground nearby.

Its stone tip had already shattered into fragments from the impact, scattering all around.

“Need some help, kid?”

A voice belonging to none of those present rang out.

The voice was somewhat old and raspy, yet exceptionally firm and heavy.

It was like a heavy hammer striking the hearts of everyone present.

Looking up, they saw a figure standing atop the crest of the sand dune, though no one knew when it had appeared.

The bright moon shone brilliantly behind him,

making him look like a true god descending to the mortal realm.

The bearded man, who had been incredibly arrogant just a moment ago, swallowed hard.

One of his subordinates nearby suddenly whispered:

“It looks like an old kobold.”

“An old kobold?”

The bearded man froze. Looking closer, he realized that it was indeed just a hunched-over old kobold.

“Fuck! Scared the shit out of me.”

Wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, the bearded man pointed his broadsword at the figure atop the dune and cursed,

“Drag that old kobold down here! Playing god like that... I'm going to slaughter him with my own hands!”

By now, Cezar had also clearly seen that the newcomer was merely a kobold.

For a race even weaker than his own green-skinned beastkin, he did not believe this kobold stood a chance against these humans. Thus, he roared,

“Run!!!”

In the next moment, however, his cries ceased, and he froze in place.

He watched as the hunched body of the old kobold suddenly began to swell.

Accompanied by a series of grating, bone-snapping sounds, his form underwent a terrifying transformation.

He had become a half-dragon kobold.

His golden vertical pupils locked onto Cezar's face.

At this moment, the young beastkin felt as if he were gazing upon the great ancestors recorded in the ancient legends of his people.

His grandfather had once told him that they, the beastkin, were not always so weak.

Back then, they were heroes who dared to wage war against the gods!

“Fuck! It's a dragonborn!”

One of the humans roared mid-charge.

“Don't panic! It's just a dragonborn kobold! Charge together and kill him!”

The bearded man licked his lips.

A dragonborn's corpse was an excellent magical material. Bringing it back would yield a handsome sum.

But right at that moment, pairs of golden pupils began to emerge from behind the dune.

One, two, three...

Soon, the dune was entirely covered with kobolds!

Their constantly swaying dragon tails and the black scales covering their bodies left no doubt about their identity.

They were a pack of dragonborn kobolds.

The bearded man finally began to panic.

He spun around, trembling, intending to flee, only to find that another pack of dragonborn kobolds had appeared behind them at some point.

At least a hundred dragonborn kobolds had completely surrounded them.

“Fuck!”

He only had time to curse once before the kobolds, following a wolf-like howl, pounced on them.

With sharp claws and pointed teeth, they clashed with the humans in a frenzy.

Some tried to run, but the kobolds pursued them with unimaginable speed.

They were tackled to the ground and subjected to a bloody mauling.

Even their sturdy iron armor was left with deep bite marks, and their helmets were ripped off entirely.

Overwhelmed by the sheer numbers, powerful physiques, and beast-like savagery of the kobolds,

these men quickly lost all of their former bravado and fell into a complete disadvantage.

The young beastkin watched the scene in a daze.

“Well, kid, do you yearn for this kind of power?”

Cezar looked up to see a dragonborn kobold standing beside him at some point. It was the very same old kobold who had saved him.

He opened his mouth, but ended up asking a different question.

“Who are you? Why did you save me?”

“Hehe,” the old kobold chuckled.

“I am merely an insignificant vassal serving under His Grace.”

“As for why I saved you...”

He shook his head.

“I simply did not want His Grace to lose an excellent soldier.”

With that, the old kobold turned his gaze back to the battlefield.

The bearded man, after dragging a few of his own men to block the kobolds in front of him, was now scrambling away on all fours.

“Come, let's go have a look.”

Confused, Cezar allowed his hand to be taken as they followed the fleeing man at a leisurely pace.

It was as if they were merely taking a stroll.

...

Scrambling all the way and having even discarded his sword, the bearded man fled back to the oasis in a pathetic state, only to find that the others had already mounted their wind camels.

A group of young beastkin children were tied together with ropes, seemingly waiting only for them to depart.

He rushed over, collapsing to the ground, and gasped out,

“B-Boss... there are... k-k-kobolds!”

Dane was sitting atop his wind camel, wiping his beloved sword with a handkerchief.

Seeing his subordinate in such a state, he grew alert. Stopping his actions, he slid down from the wind camel, squatted beside him, and asked,

“What happened?”

Gasping heavily, the bearded man's eyes widened as he yelled,

“Run! There are kobolds!”

Hearing this, Dane clicked his tongue.

“A bunch of kobolds scared you into this state? You useless piece of trash. Where are the others?”

“Th-They! They!”

The bearded man swallowed hard, but before he could continue, a chorus of wolf-like howls echoed from behind.

Turning his head with a tremble, he saw a pack of kobolds rapidly charging toward them.

At this point, he couldn't care less about anything else. He scrambled onto Dane's wind camel, yanked the reins, and bolted.

Dane was about to curse, but as he clearly saw what was charging at them, his eyes widened in shock as well.

“Fuck! Why are there so many dragonborn kobolds in the God-Forsaken Land?!”

With that, he hastily dragged one of his subordinates off their camel, mounted it himself, and fled in a panic.

Seeing their boss run, the others quickly followed suit, completely abandoning the young beastkin they had worked so hard to capture.

In this barren desert, the most convenient mode of transportation was indeed this three-humped camel known as the wind camel.

Yet, these slavers who specialized in abducting beastkin were shocked to discover...

Why the fuck were these dragonborn kobolds running faster than wind camels?!

“Awooooo!!!”

The kobolds were howling wildly!

As if equipped with motors, they ran with their tongues lolling, catching up to one wind camel after another.

They forcefully dragged the riders down from their mounts!

Amidst screams and roars of fury, this band of human traffickers who traveled back and forth to smuggle beastkin had the honor of joining the yellow sands.

They had become brand new corpses.

...

Near the oasis, the young beastkin was draped over the old man's corpse, weeping bitterly.

“Grandpa!!”

“Grandpa, wake up!!!”

Cezar shook the elderly beastkin desperately as he cried.

But the increasingly cold body would never rise again to pat his head, nor would he ever puff on his pipe while telling him those legendary tales.

Those were stories that existed only in beastkin folklore.

“Now, do you yearn for power?”

Cezar lifted his head, his gaze meeting the golden vertical pupils of the dragonborn kobold.

“I do!!”

he cried out, his voice choked with sobs.