The footsteps of the Molten Mountain Dragon seem never to cease.
Even when assaulted with cannon fire and hit with various human-made damages, it merely pauses and gasps slightly.
The body, old and dying, has lost the wisdom of the ancient dragons, becoming muddled and confused.
Therefore, at the mouth of the valley, the hunters wrapped large red conspicuous cloth strips around sharp rocks where they had prepared a large amount of explosives and bombs.
These were meant to remind their allies of the chosen methods of attack.
The cloth strips snapped loudly in the fierce winds blowing through the valley.
Closer and closer.
Lann reassured this in his peripheral vision after a sweep.
Immediately afterward, spiral airflow wrapped around his legs, and he appeared at a new position two meters away as if dropped frames.
