Chapter 11: The Dragon's Resolve
The air was thick with tension, the weight of the hatchling's words still hanging like a blade over the scout's trembling form. The Rusty Stone scout stood frozen, its yellow eyes darting nervously between the hatchling's menacing grin and the jagged shards glinting faintly in the dim moonlight.
"You're… you're lying," the scout stammered, its voice faltering as the words barely left its mouth.
The hatchling tilted his head slightly, his glowing eyes narrowing. "You think so? Then why don't you test that theory?" His voice was calm, cold, and brimming with a quiet menace.
The scout swallowed hard, its claws twitching as it gripped the hilt of its blade. For a moment, it seemed to gather its resolve, but the hatchling's unblinking stare, coupled with the sheer weight of his presence, broke whatever confidence it had left.
The scout took a shaky step back, its claws slipping from the blade. Its breaths came in quick, shallow gasps, its composure unraveling with every passing second.
The goblins behind the hatchling murmured in awe, their whispered cheers growing louder as the scout's trembling form betrayed its fear. The young goblin practically bounced on its feet, its wide eyes sparkling with excitement.
The scout almost instantly, twirled around, turning back and starting sprinting and after that one distant rock, a large one, it vanished.
The hatchling's glowing eyes stayed fixed on the empty space where the scout had disappeared. His claws flexed against the ground as his thoughts swirled.
The goblins behind him erupted into cheers, their voices reverberating through the cave. The young goblin was practically bouncing on his feet, his excitement contagious.
"He ran away! Sir Lord, you scared him off!" the young goblin shouted, his voice cracking with glee.
"No one stands a chance against Sor Lord.", said the enthusiastic kid, filled with energy as usual,
But the hatchling didn't respond. His gaze remained locked forward, unblinking.
The scout, hidden under the shimmering veil of its Stealth skill, stood a short distance away, watching the scene unfold. A smug grin curled on its lips.
'Keke… these fools think I've run away. But no, it thought, gripping the hilt of its blade tighter. I'm no coward. I'll bide my time, find the right moment, and strike this 'dragon' down.'
He licked his blade like a psychopath.
'Dragon slayer was it? Sure, I'll become one today. Kekekekeke.'
It crept closer, its movements silent as it scanned the cave for openings. But its grin faltered as it noticed something strange—the hatchling's glowing eyes hadn't moved.
'Why is he looking this way?'
The scout froze, its heart pounding as the hatchling's unflinching gaze seemed to pierce through the darkness.
He turned back for a brief second, to check if there was someone standing behind him, but no. I'm the direction where the hatchling looked at was nothing more than a vast rocky terrain with only him in the sight, if visible that is.
'He can see me?', the scout gulped hard.
'No… it's a coincidence', it thought, taking a careful step to the side.
The hatchling's eyes shifted slightly, following the movement.
The scout's breath hitched, a cold sweat breaking out on its brow. 'Why is he looking this way now?'
It darted silently to the other side, testing the hatchling's reaction. Once again, those glowing eyes tracked its every move.
The hatchling, oblivious to the scout's growing paranoia, exhaled slowly. His thoughts wandered to the Goblin Warrior that had appeared earlier.
First the goblin warrior and now the scout. This goblin cave is getting dangerous.
The hatchling was in his own world, not even thinking about the scout. The scout had turned away and ran till a rock not too far and vanished, so he didn't question anything… however he didn't even know that unknowingly he was scaring the scout, even now.
'No way…' the scout thought, its nerves fraying as it darted back into the crowd of goblins. 'He can't… he can't actually see me, right?'
This time he ran up to the goblins behind the hatchling and mixed with them. Surely, the dragon would turn back and look at him now, will he? Well… he did.
The hatchling's gaze, though unfocused, seemed to linger, sending shivers down the scout's spine.
Sigh-
He even gave out a sigh of relief, thinking that the danger was gone, but the scout thought that the sigh symbolized pity.
'He… he's pitying me?'
The scout couldn't take it anymore. Its breaths came in shallow gasps, its composure unraveling completely.
'He's pitying me. He's pitying me. He's pitying me.' the scout thought bitterly, its claws trembling. 'This dragon thinks I'm beneath him. That I'm too weak to fight.'
Its grip tightened on the blade, but its legs refused to move forward. The memory of the hatchling's words echoed in its mind, each one a reminder of the sheer difference in strength.
With a frustrated growl, the scout turned and bolted, its footsteps quickly fading into the distance.
The hatchling sighed softly once again, looking at the goblins, who were still celebrating. His glowing eyes flickered slightly as he allowed himself a moment of relief.
Thank God it ran away… he thought, his claws unclenching. That could've gone very wrong.
But his expression remained calm as he addressed the goblins. "Quiet down," he said firmly, his voice cutting through their cheers. "This isn't over."
…
The scout ran without looking back, its breath coming in ragged gasps. The night blurred around it, the forest's dark shadows stretching endlessly as it pushed forward, its fear propelling its every step.
That thing… the scout thought, its mind racing. It wasn't lying. It really is a dragon.
The glowing eyes, the suffocating presence, the cold, calculated words—it all screamed of a power far beyond what the scout had ever encountered.
Finally, the scout slowed, its trembling legs barely carrying it as it reached the edge of the Rusty Stone Tribe's camp. Torches flickered in the darkness, their orange glow illuminating the crude stone fortifications. The sounds of goblin chatter and clanging weapons filled the air.
Two guards at the gate straightened as the scout approached, their expressions shifting from indifference to alarm at the sight of their comrade's haggard state.
"Ragvolk, what happened to you?" one of them asked, stepping forward.
The scout—Ragvolk—waved them off with a shaky claw. "I need… to speak with the chief," it panted. "Now."