The alley entrance was quiet.

The last rays of the setting sun slanted across, stretching Garoth’s silhouette until it was very long.

He did not show surprise or reverence at her title, only slightly lowering his brow, as if accepting her self-introduction.

“Green Queen.”

He repeated the title once, then asked,

“The Green Dragon Queen who occupies the Arotala Continent came all the way to my capital just to stroll the streets and compare beauty with my daughter?”

Garoth had long heard of this Green Dragon Queen.

Caravans and adventurers crossing the sea from Arotala would occasionally bring back snippets about her.

It was said she had reached legendary rank before her prime phase, a dragon with exceptional talent who for a long time remained obscure, quietly holding back her followers, patient to a fault.

Until the meteor shower fell from the sky.

When Arotala sank into chaos,

the Green Dragon Queen seized the opportunity, displaying extraordinary wit and strength, rising as fast as a comet.

She recruited kin, gathered followers, annexed territory, and in a short time built a force no one could ignore: the Viridia Kingdom.

In draconic tongue, the name means the land of verdant green.

Translated into the Common Tongue, it became the Greenwild Kingdom.

Some even called Cerora the Green Emperor, contrasting her with the Red Emperor far across the Atlantis Continent,

but she disliked titles born from other dragons.

She used her influence and that of the Greenwild Kingdom, and over time turned the title into “Green Dragon Queen,” shortened to Green Queen.

This fixation on titles is very common among dragons.

At the same time, Cerora smiled faintly.

“Strolling was incidental. This kingdom is more prosperous than I imagined.”

As she spoke, her gaze swept over the buildings on both sides, over the towering walls and spires.

“I read accounts of Aola before coming, but seeing it with my own eyes made me realize those records were not exaggerations—if anything, they were conservative.”

“Your kingdom impressed me.”

“As for comparing beauty... that was an unexpected pleasure.” She paused, a trace of appreciation flashing in her eyes. “Your offspring are interesting, completely different from all red dragons I know.”

Garoth did not reply.

He only watched her quietly.

Cerora understood that look.

Because she treated circumlocutors the same way.

Those who stammered before her, trying to hide true intentions with words, often grew flustered under such a gaze.

Those who remained calm under it were either fools with no guile or true opponents.

Cerora pondered for a moment.

She said bluntly, “I came to look for an exit strategy.”

“An exit strategy?”

“Arotala’s situation is getting worse.”

Her smile faded, her tone turning solemn. “At first, the continental chaos gave me a chance to rise, but now it’s become too dangerous.”

“The Fury Curse is spreading; orcs under its influence grow crazier in battle. The whole continent is like a boiling pot; nobody knows where the next bubble will burst.”

She paused, voice growing sterner.

“From reliable channels I can confirm the Nausil Empire is constructing starships of super-giant scale—far beyond normal wartime needs. They seem prepared to abandon Arotala, or at least ready to evacuate in the worst case.”

“My kingdom can protect itself for now.”

“Viridia’s location is relatively remote and neighboring forces check one another, but who knows what tomorrow brings? I do not want to wait until things happen and regret not preparing in advance.”

Garoth was silent.

He lowered his lashes slightly, digesting the information.

Arotala had deteriorated to that degree? By comparison, Atlantis—threatened by the Abyss—seemed almost tranquil.

Across from him, Cerora continued.

“So I wanted to see Atlantis with my own eyes, to see Romania, to see the Red Emperor Capital, to see...” Her voice paused as she looked at Garoth, “to see whether Viridia and Aola might cooperate.”

Garoth was silent for two seconds.

“You left your followers and your kingdom and personally came to another continent,” he said slowly. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll return and find everything changed?”

Cerora’s lips curled into a brilliant smile.

“Dragons like you know a truth I do as well.”

She tilted her head to glance at the cloud-scraping Dragon Court.

“The kingdom exists to serve me. It is my tool, my foundation, my source of power... but it is not me.”

She turned back to Garoth.

“Even if it suddenly disappears, the impact on me would be limited. Followers can be re-tamed, lands can be reconquered, a kingdom... can be rebuilt.”

“As long as our claws and fangs remain, as long as we live, everything is possible. Before I rose, I had nothing—yet I still came this far.”

“Loss is painful, but not fatal.”

“What is fatal is putting all hope on a single thing.”

Garoth’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Her words matched his own philosophy.

He never regarded Aola as irreplaceable.

Though he had invested himself into Aola, he always knew the truly important thing was himself.

By contrast, dragons like Lamorein, Lord of Thunder, genuinely sought to rebuild a draconic realm, to relive the ancient glory of the dragonkin.

Neither philosophy was superior; they simply chose different goals.

“You’re frank.” he said.

“For potential allies there is no need to hide.” Cerora replied. “Covering up is distrust, distrust poisons cooperation. I could deceive you with grand promises of endless gain, but the lie will be exposed, and then we’d have no trust. Better to start by laying the cards on the table.”

Garoth stared at her, then suddenly laughed.

“Green dragons, the schemers among the Five-colored Dragons.”

“Cunning, treacherous, betraying... those are your labels. Why should I want to ally with a green dragon?”

There were green dragons among Garoth’s ranks.

He knew well most green dragons were crafty, treating lies as naturally as breathing.

Cerora’s frankness now did not mean she was naturally honest.

More likely, she knew speaking this way would be advantageous with Garoth. With another interlocutor or in another setting, her words might be lies.

“You came alone into another ruler’s territory.” Garoth took a step forward. “Green Dragon Queen... you are bold.”

Just one step, but his aura changed sharply.

Like a dormant volcano awaking, all his power seemed to concentrate in him and pour outward.

This was the presence of a legendary dragon, the majesty of a sovereign, the momentum of a conqueror; the houses along the street seemed to shrink in that instant, the air thickened, his form towering.

“This is my domain, my kingdom.”

“You came here alone, so you should have considered that I might want to keep you here forever.”

The threat was unapologetic.

Across from him, Cerora stood unmoving.

“If I dared to come, I prepared for any outcome.”

She met Garoth’s blade-like gaze.

“If you see me as a threat and wish to imprison me, I can oblige—bound and helpless. Perhaps in your cage I will give you more peace of mind.”

She spread both hands in a calm, unguarded gesture.

“But one thing I must clarify.” she added. “If you do imprison me, cooperation between Viridia and Aola will end. My followers will learn what happened and react—I don’t know whether they’d shrug and continue their lives or abandon their nests to try to rescue me, though such an effort would likely fail. The point is you would lose a potential ally and gain a potential enemy.”

“Of course, if you judge that trade worthwhile, then act.”

Garoth observed her.

In those obsidian eyes that seemed capable of burning everything away, suddenly starlight shimmered.

It flashed and was gone, as if a reflection of the sunset, yet deep enough to be impossible to ignore.

“Bound and helpless?”

He said, “Green Dragon, you are not fully present in this form.”

Cerora first gave a slight start, then showed surprise.

“Your eyes are unusual.”

She stared at Garoth’s eyes, studying them for a moment as her pupils contracted. “Few dragons notice this, but you did.”

Her surprise lasted only a moment.

Then Cerora smiled playfully, almost coquettishly.

“Forgive me—confronting a Red Iron Dragon who has spun many legends, I couldn’t come entirely unprepared. What if you were an unreasonable tyrant who would devour me at first sight? That would be unjust. So I kept a little contingency.”

“Pardon me; it was not an intentional deception.”

“If you were in my place, traveling alone to a strange continent to meet an unfamiliar dragon king, wouldn’t you also take precautions?”

For an instant the queen’s hard edge remained, but she also displayed a pitiable fragility—contradictory and harmonious, evoking both desire to conquer and to protect.

Garoth remained unmoved.

Under his indifferent gaze, Cerora blinked and adopted a mildly apologetic look.

“Why so serious? Fine, fine, I’ll tell you the truth.”

Her voice paused and grew formal.

“I did come in person and stand here to discuss cooperation, but my state is special. This isn’t an ordinary projection or clone; it’s something deeper.”

Garoth asked, “What state?”

She chose her words, speaking slowly: “My mode of existence differs from most dragons, and indeed most lifeforms.”

“One part of me is anchored in reality, another part dwells long-term in the dreamscape.”

“You could say I exist in the seam between reality and dream. This body is both a projection and part of my true self; it can harm others and can be harmed, but it will not be completely extinguished.”

Garoth’s gaze flickered, and he did not fully trust her words.

The claim was fantastical.

He had never heard of dragons simultaneously inhabiting two dimensions. Even masters of illusion and dream magic projected consciousness into dreams; they did not truly occupy both places at once.

Cerora seemed to anticipate his doubt and continued: “It’s my talent—perhaps a curse.”

“I was born like this and couldn’t tell which side was real. My dampened reactions led my mother to abandon me; after many hardships I learned control and turned both states into strengths.”

“Sometimes I sleep in reality and awaken in dream; sometimes I sleep in dream and wake in reality. For me there’s no strict boundary.”

She raised her hand toward Garoth.

In the sunlight the hand was solid, casting a shadow and warm to the touch, the skin fine, nails neat—appearing no different from a human woman’s.

But under Garoth’s gaze it suddenly became transparent for an instant.

Light passed through it; he could see the stone wall behind. Then it solidified again.

“In reality I am the Green Queen, and in the dream I am the Green Queen—neither primary nor false; both are me.”

“If the real me is trapped, the dream me will act; if the dream me is lost, the real me will pull her back.”

She withdrew her hand. “So when I said I came in person, in a way I did not lie.”

Garoth fell silent.

He thought.

This ability was unknown to him; the records in his inherited memories contained no mention; it lay in his blind spot.

Existing in dream and reality at once...

What did that mean?

Did it mean she could not be truly killed? That she could be in two places at once? That her perception crossed boundaries? Or that she could switch between them at will, occupying an invincible posture?

He was uncertain.

But he could see the earlier change had been real—at least to the field of his True Eye.

“Let’s assume you’re telling the truth,” Garoth said, then asked: “If the real you is before me, what is the dream you doing?”

Cerora smiled softly.

“How can you be sure this is reality?”

She glanced around at the street, houses, and the distant Dragon Court.

“What you think is reality might be an illusion; what you think is a dream might be the actual reality. How do you know the Cerora standing before you isn’t sleepwalking? Perhaps the real me sleeps in another dimension, and you are simply a projection in my dream.”

Garoth frowned.

He disliked these roundabout debates.

Reality or dream, truth or illusion... to him, what could be touched, burned, and conquered was reality.

If even those could not be trusted, how would one live?

“If I think it’s real, then it is.”

He said gravely.

Garoth no longer fussed over Cerora’s talent. “If you want cooperation, don’t discuss it in the street. Come to the Dragon Court. Whether full body, half-body, or projection... come before me in draconic form and we will talk formally.”

Cerora asked, “Is that an invitation?”

“It’s an order.” Garoth said. “In my capital, on my soil, my words are orders.”

Cerora showed no offense; she laughed lightly. “Truly imperious. Allow no contradiction or refusal... like newborn wyrmlings that can only be stroked along the scales.”

Garoth frowned slightly. “You may refuse.”

“Refuse and vanish from my kingdom, and I will not pursue you for your presumptuous arrival.”

Cerora replied, “Then I would return to Arotala and tell my people I traveled a thousand miles to Atlantis and did not even enter the Dragon Court? That would be embarrassing. What would they say? That their queen came away empty-handed, unfit even to negotiate. Such rumors do me no good.”

She shook her head.

“I will go. Since I came, I didn’t intend to return empty-handed. Even if talks fail, at least I will have seen you and know what kind of dragon you are.”

She inclined slightly with composed elegance. “Lead the way, His Majesty Ignas.”

Not long after, atop the Dragon Court.

Gales howled, clouds spread below like a blanket, cutting off the world’s clamor. Above, stars were dense enough to drip; a glittering river spanned the sky, almost within reach.

This was the pinnacle of Aola’s authority, a height inaccessible to mortals.

Two colossal silhouettes faced each other.

Garoth revealed his true form.

His massive frame stood, star reflections playing across his scales. His body was like a small mountain; each scale glowed dark red, edges traced with scorching patterns. At this moment his head was bowed, eyes fixed on the guest before him.

Cerora also assumed dragon form.

She was several sizes smaller than Garoth, but still robust among dragons: a long neck, streamlined body, strong folded wings on her back. Her scales were emerald green, and under starlight they shimmered as if each scale contained a verdant forest, rippling with light.

Cerora stared at the grand, dignified Red Iron Dragon.

Unconcealed admiration flowed through her eyes.

“I’ve heard the Red Emperor possesses a physique so magnificent it defies belief, a sight to astonish any being, including dragonkin.”

“Seeing it now, it lives up to the legend.”

“I’ve met many powerful dragons in Arotala, but none match you in appearance.”

“You stand without speaking or moving and make every creature feel the gap.”

Garoth lowered his brow slightly, an acknowledgment of the compliment.

“Now we may discuss business.”

“Impatient...” the green dragon murmured, folding her long tail in front and resting its tip on her claws in a comfortable pose.

She shed the casual manner from the streets,

gaze steady, expression serious.

“My request is simple.”

“Secure a foothold in Atlantis for me—more precisely, for the Viridia Kingdom. It need not be fertile or large. Even a barren border refuge will do. I only need a stable forward base, a place to retreat if Arotala collapses.”

Garoth asked, “What do you offer in exchange?”

“The same.”

Cerora replied, “In Arotala I can assist Aola in securing territory of equal or superior value. You may send your followers to establish outposts, exploit resources, gather intelligence.”

“There’s chaos, but chaos breeds opportunity.”

“Many things inaccessible in peacetime are easier to obtain in war.”

She smiled. “A two-way escape, reciprocal cooperation.”

“You and I each hold a foothold. If one continent falters, at least there’s a place to shelter—strategic cooperation and risk hedging between two dragon kingdoms. With this relation we can deepen exchanges in intelligence, resources, and military affairs; such matters can be negotiated gradually.”

Garoth considered.

He had once thought of establishing a base on Arotala after unifying the Northern Borders—back when Halden’s obstacle loomed large—but with the development of the Serene Spirit Wilderness he shelved the idea.

Developing a plane required huge investment; diverting attention to another continent was not always efficient.

Still, Cerora’s words had merit.

Atlantis seemed calmer, but the Abyss was a fundamentally more dangerous thing.

If the problem persisted, this continent might collapse even sooner than Arotala.

As for the Serene Spirit Wilderness...

Because it was born from the Material Plane, Garoth found outer-plane environments extreme. He would visit occasionally to relax, but long-term residence? He preferred the air, sunlight, and soil of the primary plane. That grounded feeling was irreplaceable.

Establishing a stake in Arotala was possible.

After thought, Garoth said, “Aren’t you afraid I’d take your whole kingdom?”

“Afraid.” Cerora said. “But fear does not stop me. Risk and reward go hand in hand, and I am certain you are not a short-sighted dragon.”

The Green Queen gazed at Garoth and continued.

“You have built a kingdom, fought battles, unified the Northern Borders without breaking covenants. You may not be benevolent to allies, but you are trustworthy. Among Five-colored Dragons this is rare. I investigated your past: every power that allied with you, regardless of later relations, was not betrayed during the alliance.”

Clearly Cerora came prepared.

She had not whimsically flown to Atlantis; she had researched Garoth’s character, past, and methods in detail.

The Red Iron Dragon nodded slowly.

“Fine. I generally welcome win-win cooperation.”

He paused, then added: “Atlantis is carved up, but corners remain unclaimed. When your followers arrive, under Aola’s supervision we will assist in securing territory. Specific supervisory terms can be discussed when your followers arrive. But some principles I can state now: no activities harming Aola, and do not harbor my enemies... these are reasonable.”

“Of course.”

Cerora nodded, unsurprised.

She would have demanded similar terms.

“I will dispatch a trusted dragon-blood vassal to fully handle this matter. Likewise, in Arotala I will offer you selectable sites.”

“When will your followers arrive?”

Garoth thought, then said, “I will dispatch a suitable heir. He will handle the details.”

His descendant, Laria.

This red dragon was ideal for such duties.

Cerora inclined her head slightly.

“...I envy you a little.”

“Envy what?”

“Offspring.” Cerora sighed softly, her tail tracing a graceful arc beneath the stars. “I’m jealous you have many excellent, reliable heirs to bear burdens, wage wars, and expand territories. My dragon-blood vassals are loyal, but they are not true dragons.”

“Some things can only be entrusted to dragons.”

Garoth studied her.

“Do you have no offspring?”

He was surprised.

Cerora was older than him but likely still in her prime. At that age most dragons—especially females—usually had offspring; maternal instincts peak in the prime phase.

Given her position, having children would be normal.

“I have no offspring, not even a mate.”

Cerora said.

“The desire of dragons roils within my blood—I admit it. But I refuse to submit to base instinct. I prefer a reasoned self. Those male dragons...”

She shook her head.

“Weak ones I disdain; naive ones make me laugh; arrogant ones breed disgust. Such dragons do not deserve to lick my claws.”

“And the capable, clever ones are old geezers, either napping in nests or clutching fantasies of restoring dragon glory.”

“Mate with such dragons? Boring.”

Cerora looked at him.

Her gaze suddenly burned hot.

She openly appraised Garoth’s majestic, powerful, beautifully muscular body.

From the horned crown to the neck scales, from broad back to folded wings and thick tail,

her look was that of admiring a work of art.

“You are different.”

She said suddenly.

Garoth: “Me? I’m the same as those male dragons you described, nothing different.”

Cerora shook her head.

“Do you believe your own words? If you were truly like them, you wouldn’t be standing here negotiating—you’d either try to devour me or attempt to mate, but you did neither. You didn’t even regard me with that look. What does that show? That you can control your desires. That is rare.”

Garoth said nothing.

The Green Dragon Queen continued: “I can see your arrogance, your sternness, your imperiousness—these are a mantle.”

“The true Red Emperor is rational, composed, not driven by lust.”

“And you are strong, wealthy, majestic, and robust...”

Her eyes betrayed unabashed admiration.

“Such traits naturally attract females—or any intelligent being. I am no exception. I’ve seen many males; you are the first I feel is the most suitable partner if I were to choose one.”

Garoth’s brow scales tightened.

The sudden shift from business to this topic felt abrupt.

“What exactly are you saying?”

Cerora lifted her head to meet his eyes.

“His Majesty Ignas, give me an heir. I will pay any price.”

Garoth fell silent for a moment.

He had not expected the Green Dragon Queen to say such a thing.

“You’re serious?”

“Utterly serious.”

Cerora said. “I need excellent descendants to manage my kingdom and expand territory. Your bloodline is the best among dragons I know. A powerful union would produce offspring combining your strength and wisdom.”

“I do not ask you to rear or worry for them—only to provide blood.”

“In return I can offer resources, land, intelligence... or anything that interests you.”

“You name the price; I will meet it.”

The Red Iron Dragon slowly shook his head.

“I refuse.”

Cerora’s tail tip twitched.

“Why?” she asked, puzzled. “Am I not beautiful enough? Do I not deserve you?”

“It’s not about worthiness.”

Garoth chose his words carefully.

“Offspring are continuations of my blood. Their existence is not about what they give me, but about whether I will them into the world.”

Cerora was silent for a moment, then made a strange expression.

“So... the great Red Emperor is sentimental? You mean you have children based on mood, not gain? That’s not what a dragon king building a realm would say.”

Garoth stayed silent.

She pressed on: “What must I do to gain your favor?”

“Like in love stories?”

“First I present a carefully chosen gift, show sincerity through unique gestures, conduct a long, passionate courtship, then perhaps win your... affections? Should I write love poems? Sing beneath your window? Slay terrifying monsters as proof?”

His face twitched; he almost could not control his expression.

“What are you saying?” he demanded.

“I ask you.” Cerora blinked, unyielding. “What must I do for you to sire offspring with me? What would change your mind?”

Garoth was silent for several seconds, then breathed deeply.

“Let’s change the subject.”

“Fine.” Cerora agreed readily.

But there was a playful glint in her light.

That smile made Garoth feel his reaction earlier had perhaps fallen into a planned ploy.

He looked at her.

She seemed more troublesome than rumor suggested.

“I will go to Arotala.” he said.

Cerora’s gaze flickered.

“What?”

“One day, when things on this side are settled and the situation stabilizes, I will personally visit Arotala to examine those fallen meteors. I am curious about them.”

The meteors from Arotala related to the source of the frenzied flame.

Though Garoth had controlled much of the frenzied flame, he still felt an intangible summons. The power was not entirely his; part of it was elsewhere, calling him, waiting.

This problem would need resolution sooner or later.

“Those meteors...” Cerora mused, “are mysterious. When they fell the whole continent glowed. Some call them miracles, some calamities, some debris from another world.”

“The Fury Curse likely began because of them.”

“I’ve visited several impact sites; the energy remains and continues to affect the surrounding environment.”

“If you want to go, I can guide you.”

“However I warn you: those places are dangerous—not ordinary dangerous, but dangerous enough I tread with caution.”

“Also, you probably have not witnessed a war between two major empires. You can’t see that in Atlantis. You would be interested—the scale of such wars reveals true power.”

Garoth did not deny it.

“On that note...” Cerora stretched her tail and slowly rose.

Her movements were deliberate, languid elegance: forelimbs stretching, wings shaking, tail settling.

“Today’s talk ends here.”

“My followers will follow up on cooperation. They are already en route and will arrive soon. Then you may send your people to negotiate details.”

“I won’t linger to be a bother—you don’t seem to welcome me.”

Garoth asked, “Where will you go now?”

Cerora stood at the platform’s edge, looking down at the sea of clouds.

“I’ll look around your prosperous Aola Kingdom, then visit other parts of Atlantis: perhaps the central continent, and from afar observe Halden’s Sky City.”

Garoth did not stop her.

“Suit yourself, just don’t cause trouble here.”

“Don’t worry. I still want to have your offspring, so I won’t offend you. I think I’ll still have a chance.”

The green dragon grinned slyly.

Then she beat her wings.

Her huge emerald body traced a graceful arc across the night and circled once, then dove down, quickly vanishing into the sea of clouds.