After a satisfying meal, Medea's entrance into the hall once again put the heroes in an awkward position. The renowned heroes were no match for the princess, their swords not even getting the chance to be drawn before her.
"I know why you are here."
Medea cut short Jason's attempt to break the ice with a greeting. "With the support of the goddess Hecate, we have clashed with that dragon several times, but none of us managed to kill it."
"The goddess already foretold your arrival. Enough talk. The Golden Fleece belongs to you, and that dragon is mine! Our cooperation is the most efficient solution."
Jason and the heroes exchanged bewildered glances. They had always pictured princesses as dignified and gentle ladies, never encountering someone as decisive and swift as Medea.
Medea frowned and chided, "We have prepared for this for a long time. If you don't intend to waste any more time, tell me your demands quickly."
The princess's words were filled with disdain, as if she found these men too slow.
Being in a foreign land, these heroes did not wish to make an enemy of the princess, so they suppressed their anger and agreed to an alliance.
Medea, appearing only slightly satisfied, then gave the command to gather at the temple at midnight before turning to leave.
King Aeëtes was disappointed that none of the men had piqued his daughter's interest. His enthusiasm, like snow under the sun, quickly melted away. With a placid expression, he instructed his attendants to fetch weapons and armor.
As a king, Aeëtes did not forget to defend his daughter before departing. "The priestesses have been performing rituals for this for a long time. They are merely very worried about it. Please do not take offense at my daughter's words."
In the temple, the priestesses' rituals continued, the scent of spices and herbs filling the air with white smoke.
The heroes, standing ready, witnessed this scene. Priestesses, also clad in black robes, chanted incantations in unison. In the firelight, the sweat on their foreheads and their pale faces appeared strangely eerie.
Medea, now also in a black robe, began to sing a beautiful melody, and the sorceresses joined in with a chorus. This was a ritual taught by the goddess of the crossroads, Hecate, praying to Hypnos, the god of sleep, for his slumber-inducing powers. Hypnos, in agreement with Hecate, used his divine power of sleep to lull the dragon into a stupor, thus aiding Medea's plan.
The dragon in the distant wilderness was overcome by drowsiness and involuntarily fell into a deep sleep.
Medea immediately led the heroes to the dragon's lair. "We can only make it fall into slumber. If you sever the dragon's head, you can kill it! Remember, we have only one chance. The threat of death will awaken it from its dreams. If you fail to sever its head on the first try, we will all face a ferocious beast, one that can easily kill us all!"
The heroes grew solemn and mounted their steeds, galloping away.
The dragon's heavy breathing echoed through the cave, with occasional sparks of fire being the only light in the darkness. Jason led his crew cautiously into the cave. A foul stench assaulted them, almost causing them to faint. In front of the dragon, on a withered tree, the shimmering Golden Fleece caught the heroes' attention.
Medea glided in silently, flicking a rope. Under the power of magic, the rope writhed like a snake, slithering up the withered tree and successfully retrieving the Golden Fleece.
Having done this, Medea looked at Jason, signaling that it was their turn.
Jason gripped his sword tightly and nervously approached the dragon, preparing to strike and kill the monstrous beast.
The magic-infused sword easily pierced the dark scales, and a stream of hot black blood splashed onto Jason, causing him to instinctively close his eyes.
It was this slight hesitation that allowed the dragon to open its blood-red eyes and tilt its head, evading the blow that would have severed its head.
Medea immediately covered herself with her cloak, vanishing into the shadows, leaving no trace.
Jason's sword sliced open a gruesome wound in the dragon's throat, causing profuse bleeding. Knowing that disaster loomed, Jason did not hesitate. He thrust his sword deeper into the wound, blocking the fiery breath the dragon was about to unleash.
The sword, bathed in flames, turned red-hot and emitted a sharp crackling sound. Before Jason could pull it out, it melted into molten iron.
Overwhelmed by intense pain, the dragon's blood-red eyes filled with fury. It twisted its head, about to bite Jason. Medea, hidden in the darkness, subtly moved her fingers. The animated rope tripped Jason at the critical moment, narrowly saving him from the gushing flames.
The heroes formed a formation with practiced coordination, raising their shields and huddling together to block the flames. The wound in its neck continued to bleed, significantly weakening the dragon. Consequently, its breath, capable of melting copper and iron, could not be sustained for long. The breath dissipated before the shields became too hot to hold.
Medea, closely observing the battle, murmured an incantation. A dark energy swirled in her hand. Seizing the opportune moment, she obscured the dragon's eyes.
The dragon's vision blurred, rendering it unable to see. The sorceresses' spells disoriented it, and Jason took the opportunity to slash through the membranes of its wings. The heroes hurled their spears, inflicting more wounds upon it.
Medea, at some point, produced a small vial. As the sorceress chanted, the blood flowing from the dragon's wounds surged towards the vial like a fountain.
A barrage of spells flew towards the dragon. Curses of weakness, increased pain, and slowness assailed the dragon's consciousness, gradually causing the powerful creature to falter in the battle.
In the depths of the cave, several crevices of varying sizes allowed the light of the sun and moon to filter through. Hardy mosses grew tenaciously in these small patches of illumination, surviving the dragon's poisonous exhalations.
Now, even this meager greenery withered and died in the splattering black blood.
Medea and the heroes' coordination grew increasingly seamless. After a fit of rage, the dragon seemed to lose its will to fight and turned to flee deeper into the cave.
The heroes pursued relentlessly. Jason, leading the charge, was directly hit by the dragon's poisonous breath at a corner. The suffocating pain caused him to grip his sword and swing it violently, only to be slammed back by the dragon's tail as it turned.
Jason crashed against the cave wall, spitting out a mouthful of blood. Medea, prepared, poured a bottle of potion into his mouth, instantly alleviating the pain of his shattered internal organs. The sorceress waved her hand, bestowing a spell of agility upon Jason, while scolding, "Does foolishness and recklessness seem to be branded into your soul? Perhaps your head is merely an ostentatious decoration. Why not feed it to our cunning enemy, allowing it to serve its only value – to buy us time!"
Medea's words pained Jason more than his physical injuries. Filled with grief and anger, Jason gritted his teeth, stood up, and re-entered the battle with the dragon.