Slaughter

The flames lit up almost half the mountain, casting shifting shadows across the faces of the surrounding Half-Orcs.

They could not understand it. It was only a wyrmling-even if it was a Red Dragon wyrmling, the most powerful kind, how could its breath be so terrifying?

Judging by the pillar of fire stretching more than ten meters, even some juvenile Red Dragons could do no better, much less sustain such a powerful blaze for so long.

But the Half-Orcs did not retreat. The warriors who had been thrown back by the shock wave had surrounded him again, and now they roared a rough battle song as they slowly closed in, step by step.

Sol turned his head slightly. The vertical pupils on either side of a dragon's head gave it an exceptionally wide field of vision; apart from a small area behind him, he could see nearly 300 degrees around himself.

A rough count showed more than twenty Half-Orcs surrounding him. Blood had already surged through the bodies of several at the front, giving their skin a faint red tinge-a clear sign that they were going berserk.

Unlike the Boarfolk, these fellows also carried fine weapons. Sharp spears and great blades gleamed coldly in the firelight, capable of piercing a wyrmling's scales.

Where did these damn fellows come from? I have to find a way out first.

His previous breath attack had left his entire esophagus feeling somewhat scorched, and his mana was running a little low. He reckoned he could only breathe fire once more.

Without giving anything away, he watched the long ropes hanging from several Half-Orcs' hands. The iron hooks gleaming coldly on them posed the greatest threat to him.

The next instant, before the Half-Orcs could close in completely, he spun around and lashed out with his tail.

His long, slender tail swept across the ground like an iron chain, kicking up a great spray of dirt, sand, stones, and Coal that had yet to burn out, sending it straight at the Half-Orcs' faces.

Using that moment's cover, he pushed powerfully off the ground with all four limbs. His exceptionally broad wings folded three times and tucked tightly against his sides like thick shields as he charged straight at one of the Half-Orcs holding a rope.

A fifteen-foot-long wyrmling, even excluding its head and tail, was as large as a sturdy foal.

The Half-Orc blocking Sol's path felt as though a mass of flames was rushing straight at him. He had only enough time to let out a furious roar before he was knocked to the ground.

When his exposed skin touched the Red Dragon's scales, he felt an intense burning pain. He raised his head and was just about to fight back when a huge, vicious maw descended upon him.

Sol seized the Half-Orc's head in his jaws. His powerful jaw muscles tightened, driving his hard dragon teeth into the skull as easily as biting through a crisp biscuit.

He swallowed the flesh and blood that flooded his mouth, then abruptly spread the wings tucked against his sides, batting away two hooks flying toward him.

But two Half-Orcs took the opportunity to step forward, leveling their spears and driving them straight at his belly with the force of their charge.

Although the Blue Dragon had ordered them to take him alive, a True Dragon's vitality was so formidable that, as long as its heart and brain remained unharmed, even a wound piercing its chest or abdomen would not be fatal.

The sharp spearheads pierced his still-tender scales. Feeling a fierce stabbing pain on both sides of his belly, Sol forcefully beat his spread wings downward.

His wings, spanning more than twenty-five feet, gave a muffled bang! as they swept down. They instantly generated a powerful lift that carried his body high into the air.

The two spears that had pierced his skin were pulled off course, leaving only two long bloody gashes along the sides of his belly.

Just as Sol was about to take to the air, a tall Half-Orc suddenly charged out from the ground below and leaped with the force of his charge. Though he had moved later, he reached the space above Sol first.

"Get down!"

In the firelight, Sol saw that it was a Half-Orc wielding a long blade. His exposed skin was entirely crimson and covered in ruptured blisters, while his bloodshot eyes glowed scarlet.

Even Sol did not dare take the blade chopping down at his head directly. He swiftly twisted his flexible neck and folded his spread wings, dodging the blade but inevitably falling back to the ground.

The instant he landed, he dropped his body so low that his belly pressed against the ground, then spun and lashed out again, whipping his thick, long tail like an iron chain.

The two spear-wielding Half-Orcs could not dodge in time. His tail struck their legs hard, and with a crisp crack, their bodies flew backward.

There are quite a few of these damn bastards. Luckily, I'm not a lone dragon either.

Not far away, Xisitana and Kalpu's roars and the sound of hurried footsteps were already drawing near.

The two wyrmlings rushed out of the cave and pounced on the Half-Orc closest to them, tearing at him with their teeth.

Facing the Half-Orcs surrounding him, Sol once again began to inhale deeply.

The Draconis Fundamentum in his body frantically squeezed out every last trace of mana, sending it into his upper stomach along with the heat and dust released by the Coal.

In the blink of an eye, his chest swelled high, and his already thick neck expanded like a balloon. Scorching flames began to flicker at the corners of his open mouth.

The tall Half-Orc who landed right after him immediately realized something was wrong and threw back his head with a roar.

"Watch out for his breath! Get back!"

He himself advanced instead of retreating, thrusting the round shield on his left arm forward and smashing it hard toward Sol's head.

But he was a step too slow. The next instant, a stream of orange-red flame burst forth, striking the round shield on his left arm in an unending torrent like a high-pressure water jet.

Blocked by the shield, the flames spread across its surface and out in all directions. The fragments of Coal mixed within them flew everywhere in a rain of fire.

How could an ordinary shield withstand temperatures of over a thousand degrees? The iron sheeting on its surface soon burned red-hot, while the cowhide and wooden boards beneath gradually charred.

Even behind the shield, the tall Half-Orc felt waves of fierce burning pain in his left hand, and beastlike roars poured from his mouth.

You think you can block dragon breath with a lousy shield? How naive!

A trace of mockery flashed in Sol's eyes. He swung his thick neck, directing the flames from his mouth downward, straight at the Half-Orc's legs.

Then he kept swinging his head, pursuing the retreating Half-Orcs and spraying flames wildly.

Whatever abilities or professions a True Dragon possessed, its breath was always its strongest weapon.

And among all Chromatic Dragons, a Red Dragon's breath was the deadliest and most terrifying of all.

Several Half-Orcs who failed to dodge in time were instantly engulfed in flames. The leather and hair on their bodies caught fire at once, great patches of skin blackened and cracked, and their fat sizzled.

More terrifying still, even the surrounding air began to heat up rapidly. Every breath the Half-Orcs engulfed in flames took severely burned their airways.

Even if they were lucky enough to survive this ordeal, they would later lose their lives to infection, inflammation, and other such problems.