Alchemy

Dragons of varying shapes and sizes slowly yet resolutely marched toward the blazing furnace under the urging of spell marks.

Their souls trembled. In the cruel eyes that had once belonged to apex predators, only misery and pleading remained.

Shemiel had already controlled them through the wedge-shaped clay tablets, but there were too many of them, and he had regarded them as expendable from the very beginning. He had not put much effort into the contracts at all, relying purely on force to suppress the dragons.

Originally, these dragons had been deeply unwilling to be enslaved by others. Yet they had never imagined that this evil human wizard regarded them merely as materials for spellcasting.

As the first dragon stepped into the furnace, its body burst into flames like a torch.

The second followed, then the third.

Piercing screams rose one after another.

From the chimneys atop the furnace, where countless souls had gathered, great clouds of ash spewed forth.

Some Saracen soldiers, still believing this was a "holy fire ritual," instinctively stretched out their hands to catch it. They discovered that the ashes were actually twisted, savage human faces. Startled, they looked again, only to find that the ashes had returned to normal.

As the last dragon entered the furnace, its doors slammed shut, sealing all those dreadful screams within.

To the spellcasters present, the scene was both cruel and magnificent. Some of those dragons possessed only middling bloodlines, but they had lived for who knew how long. Even if the spellcasters had faced them themselves, they would have struggled to gain any advantage.

Yet in Shemiel's hands, such powerful dragons were not treasured after being subdued. Instead, they were tossed into an alchemical furnace like firewood.

It was simply...

Too extravagant.

Someone murmured instinctively, "We may be about