The knights charged, their swords blazing with energy as they closed the distance to the dragon. The knight commander and his captains led the assault, their weapons glowing brighter and larger than those of the regular knights. With a synchronized roar, they swung their swords, the energy-infused blades slashing into Lermullo's dark scales.
For a moment, it seemed like their attacks had worked. The swords dug into the dragon's scales, deeper than any previous strike. But the victory was short-lived. The blades only penetrated shallowly, unable to pierce through to the flesh beneath. Lermullo let out a low, rumbling chuckle, his glowing blue eyes narrowing with amusement.
"Impressive," the dragon said, his voice dripping with mock praise. "But not enough."
With a swift, almost casual motion, Lermullo swung his massive tail. The force of the blow sent the knights flying, their armored bodies crashing into the rocky ground. Some were less fortunate, their momentum carrying them over the edge of the cliff. Their screams echoed briefly before being swallowed by the storm.
The knight commander and his captains, however, managed to dodge the tail strike. They rolled to their feet, their swords still glowing with energy. Without hesitation, they pressed the attack, their movements precise and relentless. But the dragon was toying with them.
Lermullo's smile widened as he effortlessly fended off their strikes. His massive claws moved with surprising speed, deflecting blades and swatting knights aside like insects. "Nice," he said, his tone almost playful. "But too obvious."
With a sudden burst of speed, the dragon lunged forward, his massive palm slamming into one of the captains. The knight was sent flying, his armor crumpling under the force of the blow. Before anyone could react, Lermullo turned and struck another captain with his other hand. "Too slow," the dragon taunted, his voice booming over the chaos.
The knight commander, his face contorted with rage, watched as his best warriors were tossed aside like ragdolls. His grip tightened on his sword, the energy around it flaring brighter than ever. "Enough!" he roared, charging at the dragon with everything he had.
Lermullo turned to face him, his smile never wavering. "Ah, the leader. Let's see what you've got."
The commander's sword came down in a blinding arc, the energy concentrated into a single, devastating strike. The dragon raised a claw to block, but the force of the attack sent a shockwave rippling through the air. For a moment, it seemed like the commander might actually break through.
But Lermullo was no ordinary dragon. With a flick of his wrist, he deflected the blade, sending the commander skidding backward. The dragon's spines glowed brighter, and his voice echoed across the mountaintop. "You're strong, human. But strength alone won't save you."
The commander glared at the dragon, his chest heaving with exertion. Around him, the remaining knights and adventurers regrouped, their faces a mix of fear and determination. They had come this far, but the dragon's power was beyond anything they had anticipated.
Lermullo spread his wings, his massive form casting a shadow over the battlefield. "Shall we continue?" he asked, his tone almost polite.
The knight commander raised his sword, his voice steady despite the odds. "We're not done yet."
The knight commander's lips curled into a grim smile as he saw the knight captain emerge from the cave, clutching a spear that radiated an otherworldly energy. The weapon pulsed with power, its surface etched with ancient runes that glowed faintly. Without hesitation, the captain hurled the spear toward the commander, who caught it mid-air with practiced ease.
The dragon, Lermullo, watched the exchange with an amused glint in his glowing blue eyes. He didn't move to stop them, his massive form towering over the battlefield like a living mountain. "Oh," he rumbled, his deep voice carrying a hint of mockery. "I guess that makes sense. A weapon. A very good one at that."
His gaze shifted to the captain, who was still invisible to the naked eye. The dragon's smile widened, revealing rows of sharp, glistening teeth. "If you had dug deeper," Lermullo said, his tone almost conversational, "you would've found the Excalibur. Now that would've made me wary."
The knight commander tightened his grip on the spear, the energy around it flaring brighter as it responded to his will. "Round two, lizard," he said, his voice steady and filled with determination.
Lermullo chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that echoed across the mountaintop. "Well, let's see if you're as good as your first king, Arthesia. Not gonna lie, though—I admired his skills."
The fight began in earnest. The commander lunged forward, the spear streaking through the air like a bolt of lightning. Lermullo met him head-on, his massive claws clashing against the weapon with a force that sent shockwaves rippling through the ground. Each strike was met with a counter, the two combatants moving with a speed and precision that left the onlookers in awe.
The knight captains, knights, and adventurers could only watch from the sidelines, their weapons lowered as they witnessed the duel unfold. The shockwaves from each clash forced them to shield their faces, the sheer power of the battle making it impossible to intervene.
One of the A-rank warriors, a burly man with a spiked mace, stared at the fight with wide eyes. His heart swelled with a mix of admiration and disbelief. "Impressive," he muttered under his breath. "Very impressive." Then, to the bewilderment of those around him, he added, "Oohhh… I just had an erection watching that."
The other adventurers groaned or rolled their eyes, but their attention quickly returned to the battle. None of them noticed the assassin, Dax, sneaking around the edge of the battlefield. He moved like a shadow, his dark cloak blending seamlessly with the rocky terrain. His target was clear: the dragon's reverse scale, a vulnerable spot hidden beneath the thick armor of his neck.
Dax reached the cliff above the cave entrance, his movements silent and precise. He crouched low, his daggers gleaming in the dim light. The other adventurers finally noticed him and shouted warnings, their voices drowned out by the roar of the battle below.
"Dax, don't!" one of the mages yelled, her voice frantic. "It's suicide!"
But the assassin either didn't hear or didn't care. With a burst of speed, he lunged from the cliff, his daggers aimed directly at the dragon's reverse scale. For a moment, it seemed like he might actually succeed.
Then, without even turning his head, Lermullo flicked his tail. The massive appendage struck Dax mid-air, sending him flying across the battlefield like a ragdoll. The assassin crashed into a pile of rocks, his daggers clattering to the ground.
The dragon chuckled, his attention still focused on the knight commander. "Nice try," he said, his tone almost affectionate. "But you'll need more than a sneak attack to take me down."
The commander didn't respond, his focus entirely on the battle. The spear in his hands blazed with energy, each strike forcing the dragon to take a step back. But Lermullo was far from defeated. His movements were fluid and precise, his glowing eyes never leaving his opponent.
The duel raged on, the mountain itself seeming to tremble under the force of their clash. The onlookers could only watch in stunned silence, their hopes and fears hanging in the balance.
The battle raged on, the knight commander's movements growing slower and more labored as he expended the last of his energy reserves. His strikes, once blindingly fast and precise, now came with visible effort. The spear in his hands still blazed with energy, but even its power seemed to wane under the strain.
The knights and captains watched with growing concern, their voices rising in alarm. "Commander, stop!" one of the captains shouted. "You're going to kill yourself if you keep pushing like this!"
But the commander didn't listen. His focus was entirely on the dragon, his determination unshaken even as his body began to fail him. Lermullo, however, seemed almost relaxed, his massive form moving with an effortless grace as he deflected each strike.
"I admire your tenacity, human," the dragon said, his deep voice carrying a note of genuine respect. "You really do have the blood of the first king flowing through your veins."
The revelation sent a shockwave through the assault party. Gasps and murmurs erupted among the knights and adventurers, their eyes wide with disbelief. The commander himself froze for a moment, his mind reeling as memories of his mother's dying words resurfaced.
"You are the descendant of the first king, my son. Your blood carries his legacy. Never forget who you are."
He had always known, deep down, that her words were true. But without proof or allies, he had never dared to claim his lineage. The kingdom's political maneuvers and deceptions had made it impossible. To reveal his heritage would have been a death sentence.
The commander's grip tightened on the spear, his resolve hardening. "It would be an honor to die fighting a dragon," he roared, expending the last of his energy in a final, desperate attack.
Lermullo smiled, his glowing blue eyes narrowing with amusement. "Hmm… I guess the current royal family sent you to retrieve the artifact of the first king, didn't they? To secure their position as the rightful rulers?"
Before the commander could respond, the dragon's tail whipped out in a blur of motion. The strike was too fast to see, too powerful to block. It slammed into the commander with devastating force, sending him flying across the battlefield. He crashed into a pile of rubble, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs.
The onlookers cried out in alarm, but the commander struggled to his feet, his body battered and broken. "From the start," he muttered, his voice barely audible, "I didn't stand a chance, huh?"
Lermullo approached slowly, his massive form casting a shadow over the fallen commander. But instead of delivering a final blow, the dragon reached down and plucked the spear from the ground. He examined it for a moment, then muttered something under his breath—an ancient incantation that made the spear's runes glow brighter than ever.
With a flick of his claw, the dragon sent the spear flying back to the commander's hand. The weapon pulsed with newfound power, its energy resonating with the commander's very being. The onlookers stared in stunned silence, their confusion mirrored by the commander himself.
"What's your name?" Lermullo asked, his tone surprisingly gentle.
The commander hesitated, then straightened as much as his injuries would allow. "Arthur," he said, his voice steady despite his condition. "My name is Arthur."
The dragon's eyes gleamed with something akin to approval. "Hmm… Arthur Maglesia. Sounds like a fitting name for a king, don't you think?"
The commander's eyes widened in shock. No one in the kingdom knew much about the first king's lineage, let alone his family name. The revelation sent a jolt through him, his mind racing to process the implications.
Lermullo turned and began to walk back toward his cave, his massive form moving with a deliberate slowness. "Go," he said over his shoulder, his voice carrying a weight of finality. "Claim what's yours by right, by blood, and by name. I've awakened the spear's full power. Only the blood of a Maglesia can wield it, and it is yours."
The commander stared at the spear in his hands, its energy humming in harmony with his own. He looked up at the dragon, his expression a mix of awe and determination.
"The next time you come here," Lermullo added, pausing at the entrance to his cave, "please knock."
With that, the dragon disappeared into the darkness, leaving the assault party in stunned silence. The commander—Arthur—stood amidst the rubble, the spear glowing brightly in his hands. The weight of his lineage, his destiny, and the dragon's words settled heavily on his shoulders.
With that, the dragon disappeared into the darkness, leaving the assault party in stunned silence. The commander—Arthur—stood amidst the rubble, the spear glowing brightly in his hands. The weight of his lineage, his destiny, and the dragon's words settled heavily on his shoulders.
For a moment, the battlefield was eerily quiet, the only sound the distant rumble of thunder and the crackling energy of the spear. Then, one by one, the captains and knights stepped forward. They knelt before Arthur, their heads bowed in reverence. The gesture was unmistakable—an acknowledgment of his right as the true king.
The adventurers and mercenaries exchanged uncertain glances, their earlier bravado replaced by a mix of awe and hesitation. The A-rank tank, the burly warrior who had admired Arthur's strength earlier, was the first among them to kneel. His massive frame lowered to the ground, his spiked mace resting at his side. "For the true king," he said, his voice gruff but sincere.
One by one, the others followed. The mages, the archers, even the assassin Dax, who was still nursing his injuries from the dragon's tail strike, knelt in acknowledgment. The battlefield, once filled with chaos and despair, was now a scene of quiet unity.
Arthur stood at the center of it all, the spear's light reflecting in his tear-filled eyes. He clutched the weapon tightly, his heart swelling with a mix of emotions—grief, pride, and determination. His voice trembled as he spoke, his words carrying the weight of a lifetime of struggle and sacrifice.
"Mother," he whispered, his gaze fixed on the glowing spear. "I will achieve your dreams. This… this is what you've been telling me in those bedtime stories, isn't it? The legacy of the first king. The destiny you always believed was mine."
The wind picked up, carrying his words into the stormy sky. Around him, the kneeling figures remained silent, their heads bowed in respect. Arthur took a deep breath, his tears mingling with the rain that had begun to fall. He raised the spear high, its light cutting through the darkness like a beacon.
"For my mother," he said, his voice steady now, filled with resolve. "For the first king. And for the kingdom that is rightfully ours."
The knights and adventurers rose to their feet, their faces filled with newfound determination. The A-rank tank stepped forward, his voice booming across the battlefield. "For the true king!"
The others echoed the cry, their voices rising in unison. "For the true king!"