Ragnok didn't say anything, but inside he was ranting like crazy:
This Sabellian—talks a big game, "son of Deathwing," "the pride of the black dragonflight"… and yet he runs faster than anyone else? What a useless bastard! A cowardly lizard!
Jaina continued to struggle to maintain the blizzard, while the captain led soldiers and guards in cutting down the orcs and death knights charging through the storm. Steel clashed, roars and screams filled the air, and blood stained the deck red.
All of them were shocked.
What kind of opponent had this powerful adult black dragon encountered?
Who could frighten an adult black dragon into fleeing in panic?
Did Menethil Harbor really have someone this strong?
Just then, atop a mast, a flash of white light appeared.
A figure was already standing there.
He had arrived.
Allen stood beneath the moonlight, clad in a white robe.
His eyes glowed blue.
Arcs of electricity began to crackle through the air.
...
Inside the city.
Three black whelps were rampaging.
They spewed shadowflame, igniting house after house.
The streets were filled with fleeing, screaming civilians. Soldiers resisted desperately, but they were no match for these massive creatures.
"Kill them!" someone shouted. "Aim for their eyes! Shoot their eyes!"
A group of guards raised their bows and crossbows, firing at one of the whelps.
The arrows struck its scales and bounced off one after another. Only a few hit unscaled areas, drawing an angry roar from the whelp.
It turned its head and unleashed a blast of shadowflame at the guards!
"Watch out!"
A figure suddenly rushed forward, pushing the guards aside.
Morgan raised Archeus. Golden holy light surged from the blade, forming a radiant shield before him—Holy Shield!
The shadowflame crashed against the barrier, exploding into blinding sparks. Flames splashed outward, and several guards were still burned, collapsing with screams.
Morgan freed one hand, and golden light fell upon the injured.
Their pain eased slightly, but their wounds remained severe. The shadowflame seemed impossible to extinguish, continuing to burn their bodies.
At that moment—
The three whelps suddenly lifted their heads at the same time.
Their movements were eerily synchronized, as if they had sensed something. Uneasy growls rumbled in their throats.
They stopped attacking. Stopped rampaging.
They only flapped their wings restlessly, as if trying to escape something.
Then, they took to the air!
"They're trying to run!" someone cried out.
"Damn it, why should they?!" a blood-covered soldier roared. "They burned our homes, killed our people—and now they think they can just leave?! Why?!"
But no one could stop them.
They were too fast. Too high.
Just then—
Whoosh!
A massive net shot out from a street corner.
It precisely wrapped around the wings of one of the whelps.
The whelp tried to beat its wings, but they were tightly entangled. With a sharp cry, it lost balance and crashed down from low altitude, slamming into an open area in a residential district, sending dust billowing into the sky.
Everyone turned to look.
At the street corner, Stella stood there. Beside her small figure was an engineering device taller than she was—a gnomish net launcher.
Her hair was slightly singed by the flames, her face smeared with soot, but her eyes shone brilliantly.
"I caught one!" she shouted.
The surrounding civilians were too frightened to approach. Even the soldiers hesitated.
The trapped whelp was still struggling, the net creaking under the strain, on the verge of tearing apart.
"Let me handle it!"
Morgan charged forward.
He strode ahead, holy light swirling around him, growing brighter and stronger with each step.
He raised Archeus, murmuring under his breath.
"…Holy Light, you are my shield, you are my blade, you are my unextinguished faith…"
Golden flames ignited along the edge of the sword.
The fire burned fiercely, dazzling, as if it could incinerate all evil.
Morgan held the blazing sword high and charged toward the whelp that was still struggling.
The whelp opened its mouth, trying to spew shadowflame—
But it was already too late.
Morgan drove his sword straight into its heart.
Pshhh—!!!
Holy Light flames surged into the wound, raging wildly within the whelp's body. Black, foul-smelling blood laced with shadow energy gushed out, only to evaporate under the Holy Light, rising as black smoke.
The massive beast's body convulsed violently, letting out a shrill, agonized scream, and then—
It slowly collapsed to the ground.
The crimson glow faded from its eyes. The last thing reflected within them was Morgan's resolute face.
The city fell silent.
Then, cheers erupted.
...
At the harbor, aboard the flagship.
The instant Allen appeared atop the mast—
The orcs froze.
The death knights froze.
Then, someone shouted first, "Run!"
The orcs and death knights who had been charging so fiercely just moments ago turned around and leapt straight into the sea.
Splash, splash—water burst across the surface as they tore off their heavy armor and swam frantically into the distance, not daring to look back.
What a joke.
They could talk big all they wanted.
But when they actually faced someone even Sabellian had fled from, who wouldn't run?
Jaina tilted her head up, looking at the figure standing atop the mast.
He came to save me again.
That thought rose in her heart, making it race.
The guard Paval also looked up at that figure, waves crashing through his mind:
Didn't you say you had no research in arcane magic?
Then what was that just now if not Blink?
As expected… as expected of a master! Hiding his true abilities, disdaining to discuss low-level spells with shallow people like us!
At that moment, the two black whelps that had been rampaging through the city flew over.
They didn't understand the situation. Ferociously, they lunged toward the person atop the mast.
Allen raised Xal'atath, Blade of the Black Empire.
His lips moved slightly, a whisper only they could hear: "Xal'atath, after so many days without using you, are you getting impatient?"
The dagger trembled faintly.
A languid yet excited voice echoed in his mind: "Finally remembered me, Master."
"I've been starving and freezing for far too long."
A deep shadow flashed through Allen's eyes.
Wild Magic Surge effect—his next damaging spell would be doubled in power.
Double.
Mind Blast!
Invisible shadow energy erupted from the blade, condensing into a destructive torrent that shot straight toward the nearest whelp.
The whelp didn't even have time to scream.
Its massive head exploded instantly.
Flesh and scales scattered in all directions. The headless dragon corpse lost balance and plunged straight into the sea, sending up towering waves.
The other whelp abruptly pulled out of its dive. It shrieked, flapping its wings frantically, and fled without looking back, vanishing into the night in the blink of an eye.
Jaina and the others watched as one black dragon fell into the sea and the other fled in panic. One by one, they raised their heads, staring at that figure.
In the city, Morgan led the soldiers in pursuit to the harbor.
On the sea, only the headless dragon corpse remained, rising and falling with the waves.
Through the raging flames, they looked toward the flagship on the sea. Atop the tallest mast, a figure stood beneath the night sky.
Moonlight behind him.
Flames beneath his feet.
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I will post some extra Chapters in Patreon, you can check it out. >> patreon.com/TitoVillar
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