Chapter 69: The Dragonslayer |
Ragnok didn't say a word, but he was cursing like crazy in his head:
This Sabellian, all high and mighty with his talk, what son of Deathwing, what glory of the black dragonflight, and then he runs faster than anyone? What a total scam! A cowardly lizard!
Jaina kept struggling to maintain the blizzard. The captain led soldiers and personal guards in cutting down the orcs and death knights that charged through the storm. Blades clashed, roars and screams rang out, and blood dyed the deck red.
They were all shocked. Who exactly had this powerful adult black dragon encountered?
Who could scare a full-grown black dragon into fleeing for its life?
Was there really an expert of this caliber in Menethil Harbor?
Just then, a flash of white light appeared on one of the masts.
A figure now stood atop the mast.
He had arrived.
Blue light flickered in his eyes.
Electric arcs began to dance through the air.
---
In the city.
Three black whelps were wreaking havoc.
They spewed shadowflame, setting house after house ablaze.
The streets were filled with running, crying citizens. Soldiers fought desperately, but they were no match for these behemoths.
"Charge!" someone shouted. "Shoot their eyes! Shoot their eyes!"
A group of guards raised their crossbows and fired at one of the whelps.
The arrows bounced off the scales. Only a few struck areas without scales, provoking an enraged roar from the whelp.
It turned its head and spat a blast of shadowflame at the guards!
"Watch out!"
A figure rushed forward and shoved the guards out of the way.
Morgan raised Archeus. Golden light surged from the blade and condensed into a shield of light before him—Divine Shield!
The shadowflame slammed into the light shield, exploding with blinding sparks. Flames splattered everywhere. Several guards still got burned, screaming as they collapsed to the ground.
Morgan extended one hand, and golden light rained down on the wounded.
Their pain lessened slightly, but their injuries were still severe. The shadowflame seemed unquenchable, still burning the wounded soldiers.
Just then—
The three whelps suddenly lifted their heads in unison.
Their movements were eerily synchronized, as if sensing something. Uneasy roars rumbled from their throats.
They stopped attacking. They stopped rampaging. They just flapped their wings restlessly, as if wanting to escape something.
Then, they took flight!
"They're running!" someone exclaimed.
"Dammit, why!" a soldier covered in blood and grime screamed. "They burned our homes, killed our people, and now they just want to run?! Why!!!"
But no one could stop them.
They were too fast. Too high.
Just then—
Whoosh!
A massive net shot out from a street corner.
The net landed precisely, wrapping around one whelp's wing.
Just as the whelp was about to flap its wings, the net entangled them tightly. It screeched, lost its balance, and plummeted from low altitude, crashing heavily onto an empty lot in a residential area, kicking up a massive cloud of dust.
Everyone turned to look.
At the street corner stood Stella. Her small figure was beside an engineering device taller than herself—a gnome net launcher.
Her hair was singed from the flames, and her small face was covered in soot. But her eyes were blazing with intensity.
"I caught one!" she shouted.
The nearby citizens were too scared to approach. Even the soldiers hesitated.
The whelp was still struggling. The net creaked under its tearing, threatening to break free at any moment.
"Let me handle this!"
Morgan charged forward.
He strode with determination. Holy light swirled around him, growing brighter and brighter, stronger and stronger.
He raised Archeus, murmuring under his breath.
"...Holy Light, you are my shield, my sword, my undying faith..."
Golden flames blazed along the blade's edge.
The fire was scorching hot, dazzling bright, as if it could incinerate all evil.
Morgan raised the burning sword and charged toward the still-struggling whelp.
The whelp opened its mouth, ready to spew shadowflame—
But it was too late.
Morgan plunged his sword straight into its heart.
Thwump—!!!
Holy light flames surged through the wound, rampaging wildly inside the whelp's body. Black, pus-filled blood reeking of shadow gushed out, evaporating under the holy light, sending up plumes of black smoke.
The massive beast convulsed violently, letting out a miserable roar. Then—it slowly slumped to the ground.
Those crimson eyes lost their light. The last thing reflected in them was Morgan's resolute face.
The city fell silent.
Then, cheers erupted.
---
The harbor, on the main ship.
The moment Allen appeared atop the mast.
The orcs froze.
The death knights froze.
Then, someone yelled out: "Run!"
The group of orcs and death knights that had been ferociously attacking just moments ago turned around and dove straight into the sea.
Splash, splash—foam scattered across the surface. They stripped off their heavy armor, swimming desperately into the distance without daring to look back.
Are you kidding?
They were all talk.
When they actually encountered someone strong enough to make even Sabellian flee, who wouldn't run!
Jaina looked up, gazing at the figure on the mast.
He's come to save me again.
This thought rose in her heart, making it race.
Paval, the personal guard leader, also looked up, staring at the figure. Shockwaves crashed through his mind:
Didn't you say you had no knowledge of arcane magic?
If that isn't Blink, then what is it?
Truly... truly a master! Hiding his skills deep! Too lofty to discuss basic spells with shallow people like us!
Just then, the two black whelps that had been rampaging in the city flew over.
They couldn't figure out the situation. Aggressively, they swooped toward the figure on the mast.
Allen raised Xal'atath, Blade of the Black Empire.
His lips moved slightly. A whisper only they could hear:
"Xal'atath, it's been so many days since I used you. Are you impatient?"
The dagger trembled faintly.
A languid yet excited voice echoed in his mind:
"Finally remembered me, master.
I've been absolutely starving."
A deep shadow flickered in Allen's eyes.
Wild Magic Surge effect—next damaging spell, double the power.
Double.
Mind Blast!
Invisible shadow energy erupted from the blade, condensing into a devastating torrent that shot straight at the nearest whelp.
The whelp didn't even have time to scream.
Its massive head burst apart in an instant.
Flesh and scales splattered everywhere. The headless dragon corpse lost its balance, plummeting straight into the sea, sending up a towering wave.
The other whelp aborted its dive. It screeched, flapping its wings madly, and fled into the distance without looking back, vanishing into the night in the blink of an eye.
Jaina and the others watched as one black dragon crashed into the sea and the other fled in panic. They all looked up, staring at that figure.
In the city, Morgan led the soldiers as they pursued to the harbor.
On the sea, only the headless dragon corpse bobbed up and down with the waves.
Through the blazing fires, they looked toward the main ship on the water. At the tip of the tallest mast, a figure stood beneath the night sky.
Moonlight was behind him. Flames were beneath his feet.
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