Chapter 24: Ch24 Dragon vs Sarcasm
The trees shuddered again as the dragon’s claws ripped into the earth, earth and roots torn through the air like splintered branches. Its scales glowed like liquid rubies in the moonlight, each step sending waves of heat over the clearing. Its roar caused the canopy to shudder, shaking even the stars in the sky.
Luther didn’t give way, boots sinking into the ground as hellish sword vibrated in his hand. The blade vibrated with an eager, low pitch, starved for the blow, starved for more. Its dark power lapped at his bicep like onyx flames, and Luther just grinned, looking up at the sky.
"Big, red, and ugly," he muttered, sweat clinging to his brow. "Tell me again why it’s always me dealing with overgrown lizards?"
The dragon’s nostrils widened, lungs releasing a billowing cloud of smoke. It charged again, a wing coming through the air like a guillotine. Luther rolled beneath it, the razor edge of the demon sword cutting through trees behind him as if they were grass blades. He came up on one knee, thrusting upward with the demon sword. Black light ripped through the air, nipping at the beast’s wing and ripping scales off in a spray of blood.
The dragon howled, staggered, trees splintering under its lashing tail.
"Oh great," Luther gasped, backing away, "I enraged it. Because that’s just what I needed tonight."
The tail lashed, snapping trunks in half as it thrashed toward him. Luther sprang into the air, wind magic bursting at his heels, just high enough for the tail to slap beneath him. Splinters and soil exploded upward.
He settled down on a splintered trunk with a soft thud and motioned his sword. "Missed me. Wanna try again? Maybe close one eye—improves accuracy."
The beast snarled and struck back by yanking a tree out of the ground by the claws. Roots groaned like chains as it lifted the entire trunk, as broad as a cottage, into the air and flung it like a spear.
Luther cursed and leapt out of the way, wind magic sending him flying over the clearing. The giant tree whizzed by, slamming into the ground with a boom that shook beneath their feet. He landed hard, scrambling to rise, his heart pounding.
"Yeah," he coughed, wiping dirt from his face. "Obviously compensating for something."
The dragon bellowed and clawed at him with jaws, teeth a shield of swords closing over where he had been. Luther sprang up again, launching himself into the air with wind magic, his sword flashing across the monster’s nose. Blood sprayed out; the dragon recoiled with a deafening roar, its head thrashing wildly.
But its fury did not stop there. The giant head spun to the unconscious Liliana and Aithur who were lying helpless on the ground. The molten light grew stronger in its throat—an flames-to-drown-them-in-limnic.
Luther’s smile faltered.
"Not happening," he growled.
He stumbled forward, wind whistling past his boots, his body shrieking from the speed. He sprang between the dragon’s cavernous jaws and his friends just when the gout of flame exploded. The flames hit his shield with a roar, knocking him back with mind-shattering force, dirt screaming under his boots. His arms shrieked with him. They were charred raw.
The world went white.
When the flames at last erupted, Luther was crouched, sword still raised. His arms hurt, flesh burned in places—then, slowly, the glow pulsed beneath his skin. The burns hissed, then healed, skin knitting together in the course of an instant.
He flexed his fingers, wincing. "I swear, if I get out of this alive, I’m charging someone for damages."
The dragon snarled, molten spit falling from its teeth. Its wing, though bloodied, was knitting together already, scales sliding like living plate across the injury.
"Great," Luther spat. "So you heal, too. That’s fair. Love that."
The demon sword shook wildly in his hand, on the verge of breaking free. Across the glade, the Divine Sword lodged in the emerald trees throbbed—white light pulsating as if to answer him, straining against the roots that bound it. For an instant, both swords—the corrupted one in his hand and the holy one across the meadow—whirred in tandem, drawn to the same stream of energy running through him.
Luther’s eyes darted to it, doubt tugging at him. "Oh, that’s not threatening at all."
But the dragon didn’t give him a chance to ponder.
It dove.
He dodged sideways from the attack by the breath.
He fell but.
Huh?.
His body vibrated.
Breath rough, vision already reeling. His chest felt heavy to him, every breath shallow, as if the air in the forest itself was becoming thinner. His legs gave out under him, and he planted the sword in the ground to keep from falling over entirely.
Not. now. he spat, shaking his head to dispel the haze. The blur became only darker, the thudding in his head more resonant with each stroke. Why? Why was his body failing him now, of all times?
His temples pounded with sweat, running down into his eyes as his breathing became a rasp. His limbs trembled, unsteady—not from fear, but from something far more pernicious: fatigue, the kind that crept into bone and marrow.
He staggered, and then stopped, the truth dawning on him. The Yarian Tree. The magic he’d spent to rescue Alisa’s mother. He’d seen himself healed, believed he could fight again at full power—but his body had never really regenerated its reserves. He was leeching himself dry, stripping himself to the bone for the barest scraps of strength he didn’t have.
"Great," Luther hacked, coughing violently, blood spewing the ground. "I always thought I was just out of shape."
He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, spreading the red across his cheek.
The dragon loomed over him, its breath hot enough to char the ground. Its eyes were upon him now, never blinking, furious.
"Aye aye," Luther growled on labored breaths. "The day I fight a dragon is the day I’m running on fumes. I hate my life."
The dragon’s chest glowed again, fire swelling, hungry to burn him up. Its entire body shivered with rage, scales taut as if tensing up to deliver the killing blow.
And then—
A sound.
A low laugh.
Luther froze, blood still trickling from his lip. His head twisted.
The voice was heard, goading, and it echoed through the clearing like a burning-carrying whisper.
"Is that all the human has?"
Luther’s brows furrowed. His eyes veered towards the dragon, smoke billowing from the jaws, heat fluttering in the air.
The voice was back, more acidic this time, laced with command.
"Pathetic"
"Leave my forest."
Luther blinked, his entire nervous system immobilized.
"...You’ve gotta be kidding me." He nodded feebly in the direction of the looming monster, still leaning against his sword.
"You."
"Talk?"
The dragon’s chest shuddered, not with another roar—but with words, its maw contorting into something very like a sneer as firelight danced in its throat.
And Luther finally saw that he wasn’t fighting a mindless animal.
He was fighting something worse.
OH YOU MOTHERF**KER!