The Forsaken Hero
Chapter 129: Wrath of a Dragon

Chapter 129: Wrath of a Dragon

I clung to Fyren’s arm, struggling to find balance amidst the violent tremors that threatened to knock me off my feet. The entire cavern quaked as if in protest, large chunks of rock plummeting amid a cloud of dust, obscuring the air.

Suppressing a cough, I swiftly summoned a Wind Wall to shield us from the debris. No sooner had the air begun to clear than the pillar of light dissipated, returning the cave to its distant, blue-tinged illumination.

"Impossible!" Soltair gasped, voicing the astonishment we all felt.

A shimmering, transparent dome of ice and snow surrounded the Dragon, encompassing several of the demonkin nearest it. The shield itself had barely withstood the attack. Long, slender cracks spiderwebbed across the entire dome, warping our vision of the inside.

The leader of the cultists, who had been closest to the dragon, gawked in disbelief at the enormous crater surrounding them. Most of the cult had vanished, evaporated like dew before the morning sun, leaving only him and five others alive. They weren’t the most powerful or influential, just the fortunate ones within the dragon’s protective barrier.

"Quick, before it recovers!" Fyren shouted.

Fire surged around his sword as he charged forward, coalescing upon the tip in a concentrated point. His figure blurred, moving quicker than I could track, and he appeared before the shield. With a grunt, he buried the blade deep, his magical technique erupting moments later, blasting a hole through the ice.

Trithe followed suit, her mana coalescing into a sphere between her swords. As Fyren withdrew, revealing the gaping hole, she thrust her weapons through, then rolled clear. The dragon’s roar reverberated through the cavern as the fires detonated, filling the interior with a tempest of flame. Within seconds, the ice began to melt, losing its integrity until it finally collapsed, shattering inward in a hail of deadly shards.

Watching the shield disintegrate after withstanding seventh-circle magic emphasized the enormous advantage our party’s attributes held over the dragon. Although it had been damaged, I knew from experience that any shield capable of tanking such power wouldn’t break to anything less. Protection magic required magic to reach a certain threshold to even damage it, meaning a fourth-circle spell could survive almost any number of first and second. Trithe’s and Fyren’s attacks had been at fifth-level, at most, yet at done as much as Soltair’s.

"Damn," Soltair muttered as the fires died.

The falling ice had impaled the remaining cultists, except their leader, who huddled beneath one of the dragon’s wings like a frightened animal. Indeed, as the dragon stretched, glaring at us, its wingspan seemed to brush the walls, extending nearly twice its body length. If the curled-up version had been impressive, the now awake and very angry dragon was terrifying.

The cultist leader erupted into a fit of twisted laughter, continuing until he slumped against the dragon’s talons, out of breath. "Your presence was certainly beyond my calculations, Sun Hero, but you’re too late. Not even you can stand against me now!"

The dragon bellowed, abruptly releasing its aura. The cavern trembled before its might, which pressed upon us like a mountain. Though my memories of that time were distant, it reminded me of the power the Pope once demonstrated. I was no helpless child, as I had been then, but even now, breathing became a struggle.

Fyren and Trithe distanced themself from the Infernal Monster, keeping their eyes fixed on it warily. Soltair stepped forward, appearing to move effortlessly, but I could see the subtle strain forced from his muscles with every step.

"Who are you?" he asked, locking eyes with the cultist.

The robed man cackled, taking a few steps forward but remaining under the dragon’s protective shadow. "It’s time for this world to change, and for us demonkin to take our place beside true rulers. The demons are coming, and are going to lay waste to everything. Wouldn’t it be a pleasant surprise if I were to do it for them?"

"You’re insane," Soltair whispered, then raised his voice. "You think the demons will spare you? They’d rather stab you in the back than give you a shred of gratitude. Perhaps you don’t know, as you haven’t seen them, but they’re nothing but chaotic monsters of pain and rage."

"Being slain by their claws would be a mercy," the cultists retorted. "At least they don’t raise themselves as the false gods do, and determine who deserves to live."

Soltair scowled, his grip tightening on his hilt. "Deserve? What’s there to deserve? Demons are a menace to be exterminated, including you, their foul spawn. It’s because of demonkin like you this world suffers in the first place!"

"I see you’ve accepted the church’s brainwashing. But I find your choice of words surprising, considering your chosen company. Not that it matters. Hypocrites like you all deserve to die. Kill them all!"

The dragon’s aura sharply rose at the cultist’s command, nearly knocking me against the wall. As I staggered, a tremendous amount of mana began gathering in its mouth. The magical technique condensed the magic to the point literal runes appeared within the ball of swirling ice and fire. Its power grew quickly, till it had transcended the limits of sixth level, breaching the lower tiers of seventh.

"Get back!" Fyren cried, lunging forward to attack the dragon.

His sword struck the dragon just above its claws, hitting as high as he could reach, but simply scared off in a cloud of sparks. Any mark it might have left was left unseen based on my distance from the creature.

As the mounting energy condensed, Soltair frowned and stepped before me, readying a magical technique. Judging from the enormous amount of mana, it was no weaker than the dragon’s. Either way, following Fyren’s advice to flee was futile. Either attack had the potential to devastate entire towns or villages, much less whatever distance I could cover in a few breaths.

The gathered mana erupted from the dragon’s mouth, cascading toward us in a chaotic rush of fire and ice. The two elements, which should have nullified the other, combined harmoniously to create an imposing surge of power. Soltair, not to be outdone, swung his sword and released a wave of light. My Sunpurge reacted to the enormous gathering of Sun Magic nearby, and I fell back against the cavern wall, gasping. My entire arm screamed in pain, as though I’d been dipped in molten lava.

I witnessed the collision through tears, which obscured everything but a blinding flash of light. The shockwave ripped through the cavern a moment later, breaking upon my magical defenses. The Nexus groaned, straining my soul as it drew upon my mana to sustain itself. In the space of a breath, half my mana evaporated, and that was with the absurd efficiency provided by the Nexus. Without the myriad of protective magic, none of us, including Soltair, would be capable of survival.

At last, the remnants of the dragon’s breath and Soltair’s magical technique dissipated. The entire cavern had been scorched black, and periodic tremors continued to shake the ground. Several enormous boulders had broken free from the ceiling, transforming the flat ground of the battlefield into a jagged terrain.

Soltair cautiously advanced on the dragon, readying another technique. Trithe and Fyren, completely untouched by virtue of the Nexus, continued their assault, unleashing their most powerful attacks. Blood ran down the creature’s enormous limbs in veritable rivers, but the dragon remained motionless.

Then, as though waking from a dream, the dragon shook itself. Its eyes, clouded by whatever magic had been controlling it, regained their clarity. Fyren leaped into the air and sank his sword into his chest, releasing a waterfall of blood. At the same time, Soltair battered its head with waves of light, and Trithe’s flames singed one of its wings.

Rearing back, the dragon flapped its wings, generating a gale that sent the three flying. The turbulence intensified as it rose off the ground, creating a cyclonic storm within the cavern. I cast Earthen Roots, anchoring us to the ground, but could do nothing else as it ascended, almost brushing the cavern’s ceiling.

"What’s happening?" Soltair shouted over the roar of the winds.

"I’m not sure. Where did that cultist go?" Fyren roared, frantically scanning the cavern.

With another deafening roar, the dragon smashed into the roof of the cavern. Rock and earth gave way before it as it burst through the ceiling, revealing the night sky. Scrambling amid falling boulders, we managed to retreat to the safety of the tunnel, our eyes fixed on the dragon as it soared away.

Microearthquakes continued to rock the ground as the entire peak collapsed. The cavern had hollowed out almost the entire mountain, a technique that was now failing horribly. I conjured multiple Earth Walls to prevent us from being crushed beneath the mountain’s weight, but when the dust settled, it became apparent we’d been buried alive.

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