The Tables Turn

"Impossible! That's absolutely impossible! It's just a young dragon, so how can it unleash such powerful breath attacks one after another?"

Mental Power Essence Fragment +1.

"It hurts! My whole body hurts! Somebody save me!"

Mental Power Essence Fragment +1.

The surging breath attack swirled around Sol, weaving an impenetrable wall of flames. The half-orcs trapped inside let out agonized screams one after another.

Even the tall half-orc leading them had collapsed helplessly to the ground.

As a level 7 half-orc berserker, he possessed formidable strength, a hardy constitution, and considerable immunity to mental effects, but he lacked sufficient elemental resistance.

After being struck directly by the searing dragon breath, his legs were charred black and his flesh had split open, leaving the bones within plainly visible.

But the worship of martial prowess inherited from the orcs, combined with the dulled pain from his berserk state, kept him roaring and trying to attack.

Xisitana and Kalpu seized the chance to reach Sol's side, successfully rejoining him.

"Where did you lowly bastards come from? Why did you invade our territory?"

"Damned half-orcs, I'll tear you to pieces!"

The two wyrmlings roared at the top of their lungs, but the only response was a volley of heavy arrows from afar.

With their formidable ability to track movement, the three wyrmlings could clearly follow the arrows' paths through the air. They kicked off the ground and scattered.

After two consecutive breath attacks, Sol felt waves of weakness and emptiness within him. Unwilling to keep fighting the half-orcs, he immediately led the other two wyrmlings in a breakout down the mountain.

Several half-orcs armed with spears tried to block their path, but Sol knocked them down in a few quick moves and stepped right over them.

The wyrmlings did their best to twist out of the way of the javelins hurled from behind. When they couldn't dodge, they took the blows on their thick backs.

In the blink of an eye, the three wyrmlings vanished into the mountain forest under cover of night. Seeing that they couldn't catch up, the half-orcs could only stop and tend to the wounded.

Sol hadn't run far. As soon as he noticed that no one was pursuing them, he stopped.

The three wyrmlings sat beneath a leafy birch tree. Xisitana and Kalpu licked their wounds, letting out resentful growls as they did.

"Those damned half-orc bastards. I'll remember them, and I'll make them pay for this someday."

"When the time comes, I'll tie up their arms and legs and roast them over a blazing fire!"

Sol turned toward the way they had come. The flames on the mountaintop had yet to die out, casting a warm orange-red glow.

Someday?

When there's a chance?

He couldn't wait that long. He would make sure every last one of those half-orcs died today.

A savage smile spread across Sol's face as he focused on the enormous wheel in his mind. The battle with the half-orcs had earned him about three points of Mental Power Essence, making up for a little of what he had spent earlier.

As two points were consumed, ripples spread through the air. Two Dragonvein Crystals appeared in midair and fell into his claws.

He popped one straight into his mouth, using the active life force of the ancient dragon and the planet within it to quickly replenish what his body had expended.

He broke the other in half and tossed the pieces to Xisitana and Kalpu.

"You're red dragons, yet you're thinking about getting revenge later. You've brought shame on all red dragons!

"Rest for a bit, then follow me. Tonight, we'll burn those damned half-orcs to ashes!"

The low growl echoed beneath the tree, making Xisitana and Kalpu, whose eyes were fixed on the Dragonvein Crystal fragments, jolt back to their senses.

Thanks to a true dragon's formidable physique and the abundant energy released by the Dragonvein Crystal, Sol's wounds soon stopped bleeding, and his drained, weakened body filled with strength once more.

He spread his broad wings and beat them hard, lifting off the ground. He spiraled steadily upward, soon reaching a height of several hundred meters.

From that vantage point, he could see almost the entire mountaintop, and the half-orcs resting there naturally came into view.

In the previous battle, a dozen or so half-orcs had been caught in dragon breath or torn by claws and fangs. Some lay motionless, while others were gravely wounded and unable to move freely.

The remaining half-orcs were cutting wood nearby and using the long ropes they had brought to lash together makeshift stretchers, intending to carry the wounded back to their settlement.

Watching the scene, Sol didn't attack immediately. He folded his wings and descended to the ground, then beckoned to the other two wyrmlings and crept closer with them, bit by bit, without a sound.

A half-orc carrying a battle-axe had just reached a nearby birch tree and was about to cut some thin branches when the darkvision he had inherited from the orcs allowed him to spot a scarlet figure ahead.

Before he could react, Sol and the other two wyrmlings pounced from behind the tree. Using their greater size, they pinned the half-orc to the ground in an instant. Three great jaws clamped onto his throat and limbs and pulled upward with all their strength.

With a sound like silk ripping, blood gushed out, and the half-orc died on the spot.

But the noise he made when he hit the ground still alerted his companions nearby.

"What happened?"

"Watch out! Those red dragons never left!"

Rough shouts suddenly rang out as hordes of armed half-orcs rushed over, but Sol and the others had already vanished. All that remained was a half-orc corpse still twitching on instinct.

They stared at the dense undergrowth ahead, a chill of dread suddenly rising in their hearts. It was as though a pair of cold, slit-pupiled eyes were staring at them from behind every tree.

"Those red dragons... those red dragons are hiding in the trees!"

"Everyone, charge in with me and cut their heads off!"

"But what about the wounded? If we charge in, those red dragons might take the chance to kill them."

The invisible pressure bore down on the half-orcs' nerves. Some argued for an attack, while others thought they should take the wounded back to the tribe first. Neither side could convince the other, and for a moment the group fell into a small state of confusion.

In the end, those arguing for retreat prevailed. Without them, the remaining half-orcs didn't dare charge into the trees alone.

The half-orcs soon withdrew to the site of the earlier battle. They picked up their weapons and looked warily around them, then assigned half their number to carry the wounded and began a rapid retreat.

Sol followed behind with Xisitana and Kalpu at an unhurried pace.

He no longer concealed his footsteps. Instead, he deliberately made noise, keeping up the pressure on the half-orcs ahead.

At first, the half-orcs managed to maintain their formation and retreat in an orderly fashion, but as their anxiety grew, their steps became increasingly hurried.

Before long, their brisk walk turned into a jog, and then into an all-out run.

Differences in strength and in the loads they carried meant that each half-orc moved at a different speed, gradually stretching out and scattering the group.

The half-orc at the very back listened to the footsteps drawing closer behind him, terror written across his face. He pumped his legs frantically, but couldn't widen the gap.

A red blur flashed past, and he was slammed to the ground. Agony followed, and his vision went completely dark.

His death didn't make the half-orcs ahead stop. Instead, they ran even harder.

When their mental defenses finally collapsed, the half-orcs carrying the wounded simply abandoned their companions so they could run faster.

Watching from far behind, Sol immediately bared his teeth in a savage grin.

The hunt had begun!