Chapter 927: Act 100 – The Escape Begins
The giant dragon in mid-air brushed past Brendel and Haruz, crashing to the ground with a thunderous roar, the resulting air current sweeping through the surrounding forest, snapping trees like matchsticks. Cooper and Earl Orkans were thrown into the air by the shockwave, while others fared slightly better, generally left reeling; only Brendel stood firm, protecting the young prince. He squinted against the swirling mud and dust, barely catching a glimpse of a silvery glint. Falling from above was none other than Mistral, the silver dragon that had led Marlaxias away last night.
At this moment, Mistral looked worse than he had ever seen her. Her once beautiful and smooth silver body was now marred by wounds of all sizes, her scales dulled. The most severe injury was on her back, where three gaping wounds, nearly ten meters long, were horrifyingly visible. Blood and flesh rolled within those openings, exposing ripped muscle and veins, dark red blood gushing out like a fountain.
Brendel could see at a glance that she had no idea whose claw had struck her, whether it was Marlaxias or Modest, who was now hovering above.
Most people would be unlikely to survive a fall from such a height, but Mistral still seemed to draw breath. She struggled to raise her head, her silver eyes meeting Brendel’s not far away. She couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. “We meet again, young one. I was beginning to think I might have to break my word to a mortal.”
Brendel wasn’t sure if he was seeing things; he thought he noticed her lips curve slightly, showing a rare ‘dragon’s smile’. It was hard to believe she could smile at a time like this. “Are you alright, Lady Mistral?” he asked.
“I’m fine. That fool Marlaxias got tricked by me and is foolishly chasing after me. Hahaha,” Mistral chuckled boastfully, then sighed, “But sadly, my luck isn’t great. That cursed Modest has gone mad and turned back. Ugh, if it weren’t for my bad state, it should have been her who fell, but after I surprised her from the clouds, she won’t have it easy either.”
Her voice carried a sense of weakness, yet she remained proud, as if no one could make her bow her haughty head.
Brendel wasn’t a fool; he immediately recognized the forced optimism in her tone. It dawned on him that Mistral hadn’t been entirely confident in evading Marlaxias last night, but had taken a near-lethal risk—her words were sarcastic. Had she not miraculously shaken off Marlaxias, she likely wouldn’t have returned to this place at all. A strange sense of emotion surged within him; after all, she was a dragon. Why would she sacrifice herself for a group of completely unknown mortals? In his eyes, the indifference of the Buds and the aloofness of the giant god Milos seemed more fitting for beings of higher existence.
Legends depicted the silver dragon as an embodiment of holiness, representing the purest goodwill and order in the world, yet that was merely a legend; it was hard to reconcile with the Mistral before him now.
“Lady Mistral, do you need help?” he asked with concern.
“I do need your help, young one, but it’s somewhat different from what you might imagine,” blood trickled from Mistral’s nostrils as she weakly replied. “If you can do this, I promise you unimaginable wealth.”
“What?”
“Go tell the other dragons that Marlaxias, Modest, and Glindowen have broken their oath—”
The news of a dragon appearing on the earth would likely spread in a matter of days; there was no need to inform them specifically. Besides, where would he find the other dragons? The only way was through Alorze or the chubby Shi Ta, but he had no way to contact them right now. By the time he left Anziluwa and got word back to Toniger, it would probably be too late anyway. Brendel was momentarily stunned; silver dragon Mistral gazed into his eyes, as if sensing his doubts, and gently spoke, “The news will indeed spread quickly, but by then, it will be too late. We must get the word out now.”
“I fear I cannot accomplish that,” Brendel shook his head. “Jotungrund has sealed off Anziluwa; we cannot leave this place for a while. This task may have to fall to you personally, Lady Mistral. Let’s first get you out of here and then discuss the rest. Don’t forget, I have the Time-Spending Pointer.”
Mistral chuckled softly, “The crazy woman Modest probably won’t let me go easily. She’s enraged, so go. I’ll stay back to draw her attention. You should go to Lune and take a boat from there to leave Anziluwa; Jotungrund’s army hasn’t yet managed to capture that harbor. As for delivering the news to my kin quickly afterward, I leave that entirely to you.”
Brendel looked up at the female black dragon in the sky; indeed, as Mistral had said, she was also badly injured, hit by a previous dragon tongue spell, with her eyes hurt. She was flying in mid-air like a headless fly, roaring in anger. Unfortunately, any magic effects for dragons do not last long; once she regained her vision, Lady Mistral would probably be in trouble.
Watching this scene, Brendel felt emboldened: “Just because she doesn’t let us leave doesn’t mean we can’t. It’s just a black dragon. While I may not be her match, she might not be able to keep me here.”
Mistral looked at the little human in surprise; this bravado was impressive. But she also admired Brendel’s courage—not everyone dared to speak such bold words in the presence of a dragon. She couldn’t help but recall how he had stood against Marlaxias last night, thinking he was quite the interesting little fellow. But Lady Mistral was not a lunatic bent on self-destruction; she didn’t want to die if she could avoid it. Hearing Brendel speak so confidently, she was curious: “Young one, what do you plan to do?”
Brendel had no real plans either; the only thing he could think of was using gargoyles to stall Modest. It sounded somewhat absurd—under normal circumstances, that would be the case—but the injured black dragon was clumsy in the air; getting the gargoyles to harass her without engaging directly could waste her time. It was similar to someone clumsily trying to swat a fly; they could never catch it swiftly.
Choosing this meant treating the gargoyles as cannon fodder. There weren’t enough to make a difference, and Modest was not a fool; it would take several hundred or even a thousand to make her stop. Unfortunately, these gargoyles shipped out would likely never return.
Brendel’s heart was bleeding; these were hard-won reinforcements from the Buds. While they were intended as fodder, he couldn’t help but feel reluctant to send them into danger.
Hearing Brendel’s plan, Lady Mistral couldn’t help but chuckle, “That’s quite a bold maneuver. You must be an earl; are all human earls so resourceful?”
“Not quite,” Brendel replied. “I just have a somewhat close relationship with the Buds.”
“I think I’ve heard rumors about you. These gargoyles are also valuable assets to you, aren’t they? Aren’t you pained at the thought of sacrificing them?” Mistral questioned.
Upon hearing her words, Brendel’s expression changed. “You can’t understand; they’re not just pawns. They’re rare units that can’t be bought with gold or wealth. They’re much more useful than treasure or magical items.”
“Then rest assured; I will compensate you well, young one—”
Brendel felt a little better at her words. Unlike the Buds, the dragons were a solitary race, the last golden bloodline of Vaunte, without a nation or system. Beyond the dragons, there were hardly any low-tier troops among them. While many sub-dragons and dragon beasts existed, they were mostly not under the dragons’ rule. Mistral said she would compensate him; most likely, it was through her personal collection and treasures. Unfortunately, the Buds’ gargoyles were not something that could be purchased with wealth.
Yet having some form of compensation was better than none at all; at least it could serve as some psychological comfort.
“Can you transform into a human form?” Brendel asked. “Lady Mistral?”
“I can only become a silver elf; I don’t like turning into a human.”
“That’ll do.” Brendel found himself both bemused and amused; this was hardly the time for jokes. He wondered if this was a dragon’s inherent aloofness or just her peculiar nature.
At that moment, Modest in the sky seemed to finally be regaining her sight. Although she was still flying in circles like a headless chicken, she bellowed, “Mistral, you will regret this soon!”
There was no time to waste. Brendel immediately sent orders to the gargoyle group hidden in the forest. Suddenly, amidst the rolling hills, countless tiny black dots emerged, each one being a gargoyle. Under Brendel’s command, they screeched as they flew towards the blind black dragon above. Modest, still unaware, was utterly ignorant of the chaos unfolding below; meanwhile, the ogre camp of Sargoss was thrown into an uproar as countless goblins and kobolds witnessed this spectacle.
Hearing the chaotic screams, Modest finally realized something was amiss. She screeched in anger, “What’s happening, Sargoss? Report to me immediately!”
But could Lady Sargoss report anything to her?
Clearly not. Instead, it was the sprites, sending a faint silver beam from Sargoss’s camp which quickly streaked towards Modest in the sky.
Brendel’s eyelids jumped when he saw the silver beam.
These little girls were far too reckless, actually daring to attack a dragon! Did they really think his words were just empty air?
…
But Brendel was misjudging the sprites.
When Mistral fell from the sky, the air current swept through the entire kobold and lizardman camp. The sprite, who had been pointing the demon-slaying gun at the lizard woman, was directly blown away, while fragile little QiYala collided with Romaine, and they both rolled out together. Only Xainne was quick-witted, flying away at the first sign of danger.
Right at that moment, previously friendly Ms. Sargoss let out a low growl, charging toward the sprite, grabbing the demon-slaying gun from the sprite’s hands, attempting to seize this one weapon that posed a threat to her. She thought to herself a yellow-haired little girl couldn’t muster much strength, especially since the wind blowing her down showed her weak power. Yet Sargoss had no idea that her tugging not only failed to wrestle the weapon from the sprite but instead lifted her and the gun together.
“Don’t you dare take my treasure, ughhh!” the sprite shouted while still eating the sand blown into her face.
At that moment, the lizard woman nearly lost her mind. What a stubborn obsession! She was so furious her head almost smoked; she raised her foot, wanting to kick the sprite away. “Get away from me, you little brat!”
But the sprite was equally stubborn, promptly activating the demon-slaying gun. In an instant, a beam of white light burst from the long gun, shifting five or six degrees towards the camp with their struggle. This white light then swept across, leaving the entire forest looking like it had been shaved bald, while tents on the open land collapsed, igniting, creating a thick black smoke. Within that fog, the goblins and kobolds howled and screamed; in fact, quite a few had already succumbed to that one strike.
The sprite kept her eyes tightly shut, hardly aware of this spectacle. Sargoss, on the other hand, was startled; these were her elite troops! In Jotungrund, the strength of the army was a symbol of a lord’s power; with this one shot, she had suffered significant losses.
Filled with regret and urgency, she instinctively raised the long gun that the sprite held towards the sky.
But little did she know, that one move would bring about complications.
At that moment, everyone saw a beam of white light rise from the ground, soaring towards Modest in the sky. Under the gaze of all, this beam struck Modest’s wing just right. Golden-red lines of magic rules flashed from the spot hit by the beam. The white light also transformed into blazing molten steel, cascading light rain. The demon-slaying gun might not have penetrated the dragon’s defenses, but it was enough to inflict pain. The enraged black dragon had become an angry poor sight; she circled in the air to avoid crashing into the mountains, yet unexpectedly, the area where she had been hit by that damned woman had suddenly sent a bolt of pain through her side. Unable to contain herself, she screamed, losing balance and crashing into a nearby low hill.
Sargoss could only watch as Modest was knocked down, crashing into the valley below with a deafening roar. The lizard woman was stunned; she was unafraid of the sprites, but she could never underestimate an angry dragon. At that moment, her mind went blank, and the most terrifying scenarios she could imagine in her life paled in comparison to this scene.
She had just knocked down one of the most fearsome dungeon lords in Jotungrund.
A cloud of death descended over her; so terrified, she even forgot about the struggle nearby, loosening her grip and letting the sprite drop to the ground. The sprite, panicked, hurriedly scrambled towards Xainne, shouting, “Xainne, let’s run!”
That shout jolted Sargoss out of her stupor. Realizing that the one responsible for all this chaos was trying to escape right under her nose made her infuriated. She immediately pulled out a short bow from underneath her cloak, nocking an arrow aimed straight at the sprite.
“Watch out behind you!” Xainne screamed.
The sprite turned her head just in time to see the arrow flying towards her. She was already too stunned from fear to think about dodging, yet the arrow destined to hit her whizzed past her cheek. Only then did she see that the bad woman, QiYala, was gesturing for her nearby. “Run away, sprite!”
So that’s what she meant; the sprite thought to herself in astonishment.
But for Sargoss, the scene felt entirely different. She thought she’d shot the sprite in the head; the sprite fell to the ground, but in an instant, the body disintegrated into nothingness. Sargoss froze for a moment, then quickly realized what had happened, roaring, “Damn it, an illusion!”
There was no time for her to ponder who had cast the spell. Driven by rage, Sargoss lost her reason and immediately dropped the short bow, drawing a pair of curved knives as she chased after the sprite’s fleeing figure. Being no higher than the black iron tier, the sprite couldn’t possibly outrun Sargoss, a battle-hardened commander of Jotungrund; it took only moments for Sargoss to close in.
Raising her curved knife, she slashed at the sprite, believing no yellow-haired little girl could evade her strike. But unexpectedly, a light sound rang out as an immense power surged through her blade, and Sargoss could only watch in shock as her knife flew out of her hand, spiraling far away.
Holding her breath, she looked up, discovering to her astonishment that the sprite had somehow sought refuge behind a human male, who was now pointing a dark long sword at her.
“Earth…!” Sargoss gasped, her sentence cut short as she watched him plunge the long sword into her throat. The latter half of her words turned to meaningless gurgles as her vision dimmed.
QiYala pursued from behind, finally recognizing the man clutching the sprite’s arm was Brendel. The moment she noticed Sargoss lying in a pool of blood, she couldn’t help but frown slightly, angrily reproaching, “Why did you kill Sargoss? She had a wealth of information!”
“This was Sargoss?” Brendel was also slightly taken aback, thinking she was just an ordinary lizard soldier. However, that thought barely registered; having seen that blinding light, he instantly recalled that Modest had collided with the mountain—now was their moment to escape. He quickly returned the Earth back to the dimensional void and turned to QiYala, asking, “Where’s Romaine?”
“I—I’m here, Brendel,” Merchant Miss finally caught up, panting.
Brendel shot her an annoyed glare but didn’t have time for lengthy explanations. “Follow me. We need to leave immediately!”
“What!” QiYala nearly jumped. “We haven’t rested all night!”
“What does that matter? You can surely rest under the dragon’s watch.” Brendel shot back.
“Ugh,” the little lady of the Siphai family sighed heavily, glaring at the sprite, “This is all your fault!”
“Why am I always blamed?” the sprite retorted aggrievedly.
