"Put it down, Hil! Do you want to cause our master an unnecessary loss of elite followers? They are loyal to the master, not you!"

"Saphirette, stop! Anubis, aren't you going to do something about this?"

Milmos and Shena were both startled awake, striving to prevent an armed conflict, for they could see the bigger picture and knew that the only ones who would rejoice from internal strife were the human nations.

Hil had ultimately ingrained obedience into his very bones. He slowly lowered his weapon without a word, but on the other side, the witch Saphirette showed no signs of stopping her spellcasting.

Faced with Shena's heated attitude, Anubis, who oversaw the minor affairs of the Sinister Wing, had no choice but to mediate:

"Saphirette, obey! Otherwise, Uncle Wolf won't give you any sweets!"

Saphirette could not help but halt her spellcasting motions, and the concentrated destructive magic power gradually dissipated.

"Fine, Saphirette wants sweets. Saphirette won't vent her anger but will bottle it up inside."

After the conflict was temporarily defused, Anubis turned to Shena again:

"Sir Vattier, although we may not go so far as to start a war with the dragon kin right after arriving here, there is no doubt that—as the most numerous and powerful group in this land—collecting a bit of food and livestock is only reasonable."

His implication was that they were willing to be "civilized" about it, but that was built upon the law of the jungle.

Alvis slowly approached, carefully observing this group of foreign mercenaries.

"It's practically a continental menagerie of races," he thought. "The main body seems to be composed of various demihuman races, along with awakened higher beasts. Humans are relatively rare, but at a glance, they're abnormal fellows."

His gaze then shifted to Anubis, the leader who was arguing with Shena. This was a black-furred wolfman with two pointed ears standing upright, his face covered in over a dozen scars.

"In any case, it's not happening! What are you thinking, trying to rob a dragon that could annihilate Morey's national defenses in ten hours?"

Shena staunchly refused, clearly understanding the power disparity between the two sides.

"That's what's strange, then."

The wolfman Anubis looked towards the distant Pillar Mountain:

"To be honest, I don't think Morey's military is particularly formidable. They haven't experienced a major conflict for over two hundred years, while we Sinister Wing frequently clash with the Allied Legions and Ryton's armies, yet we continue to achieve victories time and again. Dragons? We have Zenny, a formidable dragon who has even defeated human dragons!"

His bald, clawed paw pointed to a haughty black dragoness looking down at everything before her, but Shena did not think Raphael would have much trouble dealing with this female dragon.

"Listen, you're conflating different concepts here," Shena tried to explain, but was interrupted by Alvis:

"Hello everyone! It seems I've overheard some disagreement among you. Why don't you tell me about it?"

All eyes turned toward him. They had noticed Alvis earlier when observing Milmos but had dismissed him as a mere underling then.

"Allow me to introduce myself. I could be considered Raphael's first subordinate, his strategic advisor."

Alvis did not show the slightest timidity, calm and composed before the assembled powers.

Baron Moran hurried to whisper in Shena's ear, and Shena slowly nodded, eyeing the man before them with weighted meaning.

As for the Sinister Wing, they immediately broke into raucous laughter:

"So you're saying that dragon's first recruit was you, a weakling?"

"He doesn't look too bright to me."

The black dragoness Zenny glanced at Alvis but found no sign of overwhelming power in him. She snorted and looked away.

The little girl Saphirette continued in a flat, emotionless tone: "Saphirette senses no significant magic power. Uncle, your magic reserves amount to less than one-thousandth of Saphirette's."

However, another robed leader, dressed in a black cassock with his face hidden by a hood, did not utter a single word, silently leaning on a gilded staff.

The wolfman Anubis, meanwhile, scrutinized Alvis carefully. He soon noticed that this human's posture and gait were rigid and disciplined. His gaze did not wander aimlessly, and when not speaking, he tightly pursed his lips with unwavering resolve.

This demeanor was reminiscent of career soldiers.

"All of you, shut up!" Anubis roared behind him, his guttural, wolf-like voice quickly overpowering the clamor and silencing the mercenaries.

"Can you speak for the Calamity Demon?" it asked Alvis directly.

"I believe Raphael's trust in me is no less than that given to his dragon kin followers, perhaps even greater," Alvis confidently replied.

Baron Moran and Shena quietly stepped aside, discussing matters in hushed tones.

"We of the Sinister Wing came here to protect you, risking encirclement by Ryton's armies. Is it too much to ask our employers for some food to fill our bellies?"

Anubis was clever, knowing not to cede the moral high ground and trying to justify their actions as much as possible.

"I believe you gentlemen have a cognitive impairment," Alvis said with a hint of derision. "In other words, you fail to recognize your true weight class."

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

These inflammatory words immediately infuriated the nearby mercenaries, who instantly wanted to draw their blades and slaughter this arrogant weakling.

"Don't move!" Anubis turned to subdue his subordinates before asking Alvis, "Care to enlighten us?"

"It seems that in your eyes, Morey's military is not worth mentioning. By your simple comparisons, do you view the Allied Legions as greater than Ryton's armies, which are greater than yourselves, followed by Raphael and Morey?"

"Is there a problem with that?" Anubis chuckled, the movement contorting the scars on his face into an even uglier expression.

"We readily admit we could also defeat Morey's forces. That's a fact."

Alvis nodded. "Indeed, the Contested Plains are rugged terrain crisscrossed with various factions and strange traps, with orcs roaming about. I served in the Allied Legions for thirteen years and repeatedly encountered those native mercenaries. More often than not, we came out on the losing end."

The mercenaries all showed scornful smiles, and the little witch spoke up: "Saphirette does not think those weak soldiers are very strong. Saphirette has killed many who raided innocent demihuman villages. They could scarcely fight back."

Alvis changed tacks. "However, that has no bearing on your actual combat strength. The tides of victory and defeat were swayed by geographical factors."

He began citing examples: "The Empire once launched an attack on what is now the capital of Chalaran, Mitrel—back then, it was a major orcs stronghold. They intended to help the nomads of the plains establish a nation as a bulwark against the orcs's autumn raids. My great-grandfather participated in that expedition. A force of 340,000 was mustered, and by the time they advanced to the outskirts of Mitrel, around 11,000 had perished."

The mercenaries fell silent and dropped their mocking smiles, unable to fathom the scale of the human Empire's military might.

"But the orcs did not abandon the city. Instead, they staunchly held their ground."

"Though the humans could gain the upper hand in open battles, besieging the city proved troublesome. It took a full month to breach the walls, during which the orcs continuously reinforced from all directions, costing another 20,000 casualties."

"Finally entering the city, that was only the start of the nightmare. Brutal street fighting shredded the Imperial forces into tattered remnants. Over 30,000 soldiers perished within that alien fortress. Do you understand why the human losses, despite superior military strength, only mounted with each engagement?"

Alvis stated his conclusion: "It was the issue of terrain advantage. So do not use certain battle records to compare combat strength, for there can never be an arena where the warring armies line up to charge at the referees' signal."

"Unless you can fight your way through the Contested Plains all the way to Oakenburg and eliminate the garrison here, you cannot truly claim superiority. Mere hypothetical comparisons are laughable."

The mercenaries fell into silence. The little witch spoke up, "Saphirette finds this weakling's words quite reasonable. Saphirette cannot guarantee victory on others' home ground."

The wolfman Anubis stared off towards the distant Pillar Mountain, imagining a evil dragon emerging from there, then enduring the encirclement of battle dragons, gryphons, and artillery for a day before annihilating the national defenses of a kingdom hundreds of years old.

"Could you do it, Zenny?"

The black dragoness' scornful, arrogant expression faded slightly as she reluctantly shook her head.

"Well, you do make some sense," Anubis admitted. He had indeed arrived with an overconfident, arrogant mindset, thinking so-called evil dragons were just beasts, not much stronger than Zenny.

As for the dragon kin, the over ten thousand mercenaries under his command were also battle-hardened veterans, their ferocity unmatched.

On the surface, the two sides' combat strengths appeared comparable. With might as the foundation of politics, Anubis naturally wanted to seize this golden opportunity to forge a great enterprise. Who wanted to spend their life as a mercenary always at risk of a violent death?

Just as he was about to express their power in a more tactful manner, the black dragoness Zenny and Saphirette suddenly became alert!

"Anubis, watch out! I sense an extremely powerful energy moving at high speed above us!" Zenny warned loudly while spreading her four wings. She brought her folded forelegs forward, gathering draconic magic as her sole exposed golden draconic eye scanned the skies in panic, trying to locate the source of that power.

"What? What energy? How powerful?" The wolfman was startled, for the black dragoness Zenny seemed to have inherited a special form of draconic magic from her deceased parents, allowing her to passively sense powerful energy fluctuations around her.

It was due to this ability that the Sinister Wing had discovered the little witch.

"Saphirette is perplexed, for Saphirette senses two magic powers stronger than her own. Saphirette deduces they are either dragons, or those accursed magic-draining beasts," the little witch warned as well.

Anubis grew tense from his comrades' cascading danger alerts, neurotically scanning the skies. Yet apart from a gentle breeze caressing his face like a first love's tender kiss, he saw nothing.

"What? Invisibility?" The well-traveled wolfman knew the possibility. "Saphirette, Zenny, can you detect any heat signatures?"

"No, but be on guard!" The black dragon was on high alert, recalling the feeling she got when sneaking up to the orcs's temple—the sensation of vast divine power descending upon the mortal realm.

"Great Leader, the wind is coming," rasped an ancient, withered voice.

"Paladin?" Anubis turned towards the silent black-robed priest.

In the next moment, a tempest struck!

A howling, raging storm akin to an ancient beast instantly scattered everyone present. The windblast pinned them down—the smaller figures were nailed to the ground, immobilized!

The black dragoness Zenny instantly flattened herself to shield the little witch Saphirette, lowering her head and covering them both with her wings in grim defense.

Wolfman Anubis let out a fierce howl, unsheathing the massive sword on his back and holding it in front to brace against the gale.

He managed a sidelong glance outside, catching a fleeting crimson golden blur in the sky before his ears began ringing intensely, trickles of fresh blood seeping from them.

Soon after, the furious winds began receding, as if being sucked into a vacuum, allowing the battered group to finally look around.

"Oh my goodness!"

As soon as the mercenaries opened their eyes, they saw a mountain-sized crimson golden "meteor" crashed nearby, gouging a deep crater in the earth.

Then that massive "meteor" extended razor-sharp claws to brace itself against the ground in a firm grip, the solid ground shattering like jelly to serve as a foothold for those muscular, knotted arms.

Thoom!

The impact shook the earth as the crimson golden "meteor" crawled towards them, its broad wings unfurling to blot out the morning sun, casting ominous shadows over the mercenaries' stunned, fearful faces.

A serpentine neck as thick as a python slowly twisted around from behind. Raphael's dark golden draconic eyes scanned over the mercenaries' terrified, paralyzed, panicked expressions of utter bewilderment.

When his gaze passed over the incredulous black dragoness Zenny, his long tongue extended to lick his upper and lower jaws, even his snout.

Then Raphael firmly planted his forelegs on the ground and reared up, unleashing a thunderous draconic roar!

Rooooooar!!!

His wings beat down as his belly began glowing golden, preparing for battle!

Faced with this colossal, sky-blotting evil dragon, those arrogantly boastful mercenaries who had scoffed at his power were all struck dumb, standing frozen like condemned prisoners awaiting execution.

Anubis's wolf-eyes bulged as he opened his mouth to speak, but some inexplicable force caught in his throat, leaving him gasping wordlessly like a goldfish.

The black dragoness Zenny mustered her courage to fight but could not stop her body from trembling uncontrollably.

The little witch Saphirette covered her eyes tightly, muttering to herself, "Please! Don't kill Saphirette! Saphirette doesn't want to die!"

Only the black-robed Paladin showed no reaction, silently regarding this invincible dragon.

"Well, I suppose no matter the race, they won't believe it until they see the coffin," Alvis remarked calmly, having witnessed such scenes many times before.

At the moment, he was shielding himself from the windblast, shaking his head in sardonic amusement at the mercenaries' behavior.

Shena timely intervened to mediate:

"Welcome back, great, benevolent, and most perfect of sacred dragons, Lord Raphael!"

"These are members of the Sinister Wing mercenary band that decided to come here to help the dwarves resist shameless human aggression and reclaim their homeland. Although numerous and unrestrained, they have already been inspired by your selfless upholding of justice for other races and are willing to follow your command!"

Raphael slowly closed his maw, which had been prepared to unleash his breath. He turned to address the prostrated dragon kin behind him:

"Tell me, what were you all up to earlier?"