"Die, bastard!"
Miska the Wolf-Spider twisted his face into a savage grin as he drove his scimitar into the belly of an abyssal dragon—Vulkan. As the war dragged on, virtually all the Sons of Solam had joined the battle. They hoped to use their numerical advantage to surround and kill Miska.
However, Miska was not some reckless brute who charged in headfirst. He knew perfectly well that, in his current condition, facing the combined assault of ten demon lords would still be extremely difficult. So rather than rashly attacking them, he began waging guerrilla warfare against the Sons of Solam.
He repeatedly struck at the legions under the Sons of Solam's command, forcing the gathered Sons of Solam to split apart. In a sense, these legionnaires were also the Sons of Solam's offspring. They could not possibly stand by and watch Miska slaughter their descendants, so they had no choice but to risk coming to their rescue.
But that gave Miska the chance to defeat them one by one. Vulkan had been struck precisely because of this. Miska had suddenly charged into the Fire Salamander Warband while the other Sons of Solam had just been drawn elsewhere. Only Vulkan was closest to his descendants, so he could only come to their aid alone. To hold Miska back, Vulkan decisively transformed into an abyssal dragon. Unfortunately, Vulkan had overestimated himself. To Miska, the dragon's enormous body was no threat at all—rather, it was a massive target.
Yet as the most tenaciously vital of the Sons of Solam, even with his abdomen pierced by Miska the Wolf-Spider's scimitar, Vulkan did not flee. Instead, he grabbed Miska's scimitar and raised his head, fiercely spewing a mouthful of infernal dragon breath at Miska.
Miska possessed incomparably rich combat experience. Though Vulkan's ferocity surprised him