Karl El spoke in a deep, steady voice, his words carrying clearly into the Golden Dragon's ears.
"I can promise you this," he said calmly. "The people—or dragons—you are protecting will be absolutely safe."
His gaze remained unwavering as he continued, his tone firm but sincere.
"Anyone who dares cross the line and approach the cave while we fight will face our—combined—wrath."
From Karl El's perspective, he had already demonstrated more than enough goodwill, strength, and sincerity.
Given the flight abilities he had revealed, as well as his relationship with Geralt, this promise should have carried significant weight.
He had originally expected Borchi to hesitate, to carefully weigh the risks and benefits, and then agree to this straightforward and honorable duel.
However, reality once again exceeded his expectations.
A flash of interest did appear in the Golden Dragon's eyes, and a trace of inner struggle flickered within those molten-gold vertical pupils. Yet in the end, Borchi still shook its massive head firmly and spoke only two words in a low, restrained voice.
"Apologies."
Suddenly, Karl El felt the corner of his eye twitch uncontrollably.
An indescribable sense of frustration welled up in his chest. It was the kind of stifled irritation that had nowhere to go, building pressure with every passing second. Almost subconsciously, he clenched his fists.
They hardened.
They truly hardened—his fists had hardened.
It was obvious that Borchi still harbored deep wariness and distrust. The dragon did not believe Karl El could ensure the safety of the cave under the watchful eyes of the massive crowd below.
Or perhaps it simply did not believe that Karl El would genuinely turn against those humans—would truly make enemies of them—just to protect a dragon.
Karl El could understand such caution. After all, Borchi bore the heavy responsibility of a guardian. Its duty was not only to itself, but to the presence hidden deep within the cave.
But—damn it.
His desire for battle had already been ignited, only to be forcibly smothered halfway.
Now, left hanging in this awkward limbo, the feeling was even more unbearable than taking a solid punch to the face.
Karl El's eyes flickered briefly. He said nothing more.
For certain stubborn beings, actions were far more persuasive than words.
Without uttering a single sound, his suspended figure in mid-air suddenly blurred. In an instant, he transformed into a vague afterimage, diving straight toward the cave entrance below.
The sudden movement caught the Golden Dragon completely off guard.
For a split second, Borchi froze. Then, realization struck.
Its fury exploded.
The provocation, the deliberate crossing of its bottom line—its Reverse Scale—overwhelmed all restraint.
"Human! You dare!!!"
A deafening roar erupted from its throat. The sound waves crashed through the valley like a tangible force, shaking the air itself.
Borchi flapped its massive wings violently. Despite its enormous size, its body moved with astonishing agility as it immediately turned and gave chase.
Violent air currents swept across the ground as its wings beat furiously, sending sand and stones flying in every direction. Dust filled the air, and the crowd below was blown off balance, forced to shield themselves against the sudden storm.
In its rage, the Golden Dragon opened its massive maw without hesitation.
An orange glow flashed deep within its throat, rapidly converging into a searing core of heat that made one's heart pound in fear.
It aimed slightly ahead and to the side of Karl El's diving trajectory.
Then, without restraint, it unleashed a concentrated blast of scorching Dragon breath.
Despite its fury, Borchi still retained a sliver of reason. It did not wish to directly harm this strange human—Geralt's friend. Its intent was merely to force him to change direction and prevent him from approaching the cave.
As for Karl El, when he was barely ten meters from the cave entrance, his diving momentum came to an abrupt halt.
He hovered steadily in low flight, less than a meter above the ground, making no attempt to enter the cave at all.
Slowly, he turned around.
A faint smirk of clear mission accomplished appeared on his face as he stared directly at the incoming orange torrent—flames capable of melting solid rock.
At this sight, surprise flashed across the Golden Dragon's eyes, followed by sudden realization.
It understood.
This human had done it on purpose.
The charge toward the cave had been nothing more than a feint—an intentional provocation designed to force its hand.
"Get out of the way!" Borchi shouted urgently, trying to close its jaws and cut off the Dragon breath midstream.
But once Dragon breath is unleashed, how could it be so easily retracted?
The searing torrent continued to surge forward uncontrollably.
In that instant, intense self-blame and guilt surged within Borchi's heart.
Was it about to kill Geralt's friend by accident?
Yet in the very next moment, its molten-gold eyes widened dramatically, its pupils shrinking into thin slits from sheer shock.
Karl El, standing directly in the path of the devastating flames, was completely unhurried.
He even took a slow, leisurely breath.
Then he exhaled.
He blew forward.
"Whoosh—whoosh!"
A frigid white current of air burst forth from Karl El's mouth, screaming through the air as it collided head-on with the Dragon breath.
"Sizzle—sizzle—sizzle!!!"
The violent clash between ice and fire produced a piercing, ear-splitting sound, like red-hot iron being plunged into freezing water.
The leading edge of the Dragon breath froze instantly upon contact with the cold stream, extinguished before it could advance further. Though the remaining flames pushed forward stubbornly, they were utterly powerless.
Under the relentless assault of the piercing cold, the flames rapidly dissipated and died out, unwilling and defeated, transforming into a massive cloud of thick white steam.
The mist spread rapidly, completely shrouding Karl El's figure and covering a wide area around the cave entrance.
The scene was utterly inconceivable.
The Golden Dragon stood frozen in shock.
It had lived for countless years and witnessed innumerable miraculous spells and abilities. Yet never—not once—had it seen someone casually use their own breath to counter a Dragon's breath.
Then, in the brief moment when its focus faltered—
A shadow moved.
From within the spreading mist, a blurred figure surged forward, closing the distance at a speed far beyond Borchi's ability to react.
Too fast.
Borchi's pupils contracted violently as a seemingly ordinary fist rapidly expanded within its field of vision.
Thud!!!
A dull, heavy impact rang out, like leather being struck by a battering ram.
"Roar!!!"
The Golden Dragon's roar of pain and fury shook the air.
Karl El's fist, carrying overwhelming power, slammed squarely into the dragon's hard cheek.
The sheer force of the blow caused Borchi's massive head to snap violently to the side. Several sharp teeth—each comparable in size to a short sword—were blasted from its maw, splattered with blood as they arced through the air and clattered onto the ground below.
Borchi's enormous body was knocked backward and upward, sent stumbling through the air by a single punch.
It flapped its wings frantically, barely managing to stabilize its shaking form.
Slowly, it raised a front claw and pressed it against the cheek that had been struck.
Waves of burning pain radiated outward.
Though the scales remained intact, the bone beneath had clearly suffered a severe impact.
Borchi's gaze locked onto Karl El.
The human hovered calmly in the air, right where he had been moments earlier, his figure emerging from the gradually dispersing mist.
For the first time, Borchi's eyes were filled with true solemnity.
Just moments ago, the group of people below—including the dwarves' ballistae and the sorcerers' spells—had attacked it relentlessly without even managing to crack a single scale.
Yet this Arnulfati had come forth and, with nothing but one punch, knocked out its teeth and inflicted real pain.
That pain ignited something ancient.
Dormant ferocity surged from deep within Borchi's bloodline. The pride, violence, and dominance of the Dragon Clan were fully awakened.
However, the last remnants of reason still whispered a warning.
It should not continue entangling itself here.
The presence within the cave was far more important than any battle.
Suppressing its surging rage with great effort, Borchi opened its bleeding maw, preparing to speak—intending to order Karl El to stop and bring this unnecessary conflict to an end.
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