"Why did it turn out like this… The first time the king recognized me, and I gained someone I could serve loyally for the rest of my life. Two happy things overlapped. And those two joys should have brought me even more, even greater joy. What should have followed was a dreamlike time of happiness… But why, why did it turn out like this…"
The last words of crossbowman corporal Norman Sador.
…
Without a doubt, that was a dragon!
Not the fantasy of some ignorant peasant from the countryside, and absolutely not some wyvern mistaken for a dragon. It was a true legendary creature, an intelligent being of incomparable ferocity, with hard, magic-resistant scales and high-temperature flames spewing from its mouth.
"Run! Hide in the gate passage first!" In the clear sunlight, Geralt saw that it was a golden dragon. Images seemed to flash through his mind, but in his shock, he dared not think too deeply. After giving the warning, he grabbed Triss and rushed forward.
"It's a dragon! Find cover first! To the railing!"
"Protect the king! Protect the king!"
"Uwaaaaaah!"
"Do not be afraid. It is just a big lizard. Crossbows, aim at it together!"
The flow of time suddenly slowed. The surroundings were noisy and chaotic, and all kinds of thoughts crisscrossed through the air. There were rational voices, panicked cries, fearful prayers, and courageous commands.
Then, when the flow of time returned to normal… the golden dragon flapped its wings and stopped in midair. It took a deep breath, and resplendent dragonfire washed over the ground.
"Roaaaaar! Booooom!"
Under the terrifying heat, the entire drawbridge began to burn. Many soldiers still on the bridge were swallowed by the sea of flames, their screams rising one after another. They were doomed to die here.
"Eeeeeek, it's burning!"
"Ah, I can't take it, I can't take it!"
"Save me, gods… have mercy…"
"No, Avi is dead!"
Looking back at the hell on earth upon the bridge, Vernon Roche punched the wall inside the gate passage and cursed bitterly, "Damn it! I would trade both my legs for a heavy crossbow right now."
Beside him, the important figures who had taken the correct action and successfully hidden under cover were King Foltest, whom he was supporting, the sorceress Triss Merigold, and Geralt of Rivia.
With a rumbling crash, dirt and stones fell. The dragon had roared and was violently ramming the tower. Seeing that the gate passage was about to collapse, the group hurriedly relied on the cover and continued moving toward the next section of wall.
As they ran, Triss muttered to herself, "I can't believe it! That is a living dragon!"
"Merigold, stop marveling at it and think of something!" the king shouted in a powerful voice, his movements also quite agile.
"It came too quickly, my king. Fighting a dragon is not as easy as people imagine!" Triss argued.
Foltest loosened his collar. "Then you had better speed up as well, and deal with it before that beast turns my army to ashes!"
While they talked and moved forward, the dragon in the sky was still attacking, spitting one fireball after another down to the ground, blowing the soldiers who were struggling to fight back off their feet and leaving the dead and wounded piled everywhere.
The road ahead was blocked. Vernon Roche stepped forward and moved the collapsed wooden beam. "Witcher, your trade specializes in dealing with monsters! Tell me, how do you fight a creature like this?"
Geralt went forward to help. "If we were in a town, perhaps we could use the terrain, but in the open, I have no way either. Without sufficient preparation, we cannot beat it!
"Right now, all we can do is run. If we flee to the ballistae on the wall, we will be temporarily safe. Dragons are an intelligent race. They will not easily approach heavy siege weapons."
After pushing the wooden beam aside, Vernon Roche sighed. "Look at the destruction and casualties it has caused. I have heard witchers do not hunt dragons. If that is true, I have to say your code is out of date!"
Geralt touched his nose. "On the subject of being out of date, you are the second person to say that today!"
"Wait! Where is Victor? Did he not keep up with us?" King Foltest suddenly thought of the young witcher.
The other three immediately looked at one another. No one could answer the question. The incident had happened too suddenly, and the situation had been too dangerous. No one had noticed when Victor Corion had vanished.
It was the White Wolf, Geralt, who spoke with certainty. "Your Majesty, you saw Vic's skill with your own eyes. Crossbow bolts could not hit him, let alone fireballs. I believe we have only been separated for the moment."
After the king nodded in acknowledgment, just as the group was about to continue forward, a sudden change erupted behind them.
…
To answer the question of where Victor was, one had to turn time back to not long before, when the dragon had just begun its attack.
When the flow of time seemed to slow, when the surroundings were noisy and chaotic, when reason and panic conversed, fear and courage collided, and all kinds of thoughts crisscrossed through the air, the young witcher belonged to the silent and soundless kind.
Vernon Roche supported King Foltest, and Geralt also held Triss's hand as they ran toward the gate passage. But Victor, who was covering the rear, was thinking about what means of counterattack he would have if, in the worst-case scenario, he had no choice but to fight the dragon.
It was said that the famous dragon hunters, the Crinfrid Reavers, used crossbow harpoons with ropes attached, shooting through a monster's wings and dragging it down to the ground. But against a dragon's hard scales, who knew how much effect that would have left?
Although they had risen to fame in recent years, in truth, most of what they slaughtered were distant relatives of dragons, very distant relatives, such as forktails or wyverns.
Perhaps he should try Grapeshot or Dancing Star first? Then he suddenly remembered that there seemed to be one epic-grade Northern Wind bomb left in his bag.
In an ideal situation, if Northern Wind could hit the dragon, there was a high chance it could knock it out of the sky. Then everyone could rush up and beat it down without any regard for honor among fighters, thereby obtaining the title of "dragonslayer"?
Imagination was rich, reality was bony. A terrifying black shadow swept through the air, scorching dragonfire was spat forth, and the soldiers on the bridge died one after another amid wails and screams.
Seeing this hellish scene, though it was very cold to say, Victor felt a trace of joy deep in his soul.
That was right, joy.
In a short period of time, he thought of many things. In the alchemical world where he had once lived, there had been all kinds of dragons, and they had existed in such abundance that they could not be killed out or exhausted.
They provided unbelievable alchemists with vast quantities of extraordinary materials. Dragon scales and dragon blood, dragon claws and dragon teeth, even dragon meat, dragon bones, and dragon whips, one could say that every part of a dragon was treasure. It was said that Grandmother first slew a dragon when she was seventeen.
And in the witcher world, many dragons had once survived as well. "Once," because they were now on the verge of extinction. It was said that the last time anyone saw a true dragon had been decades ago.
In other words, although this creature still lived on in poems, songs, and ballads, most ordinary people would never see one in their entire lives.
In this era, the legendary dragon truly was only a legend.
So when Geralt relayed the scouts' report that morning, Victor had not believed it in his heart. He had merely listened to it as an amusing anecdote, and even Geralt himself had said it as a joke.
But the instant he saw it, without the slightest doubt, Victor knew that something as beautiful as it was must be a dragon. No other creature could possess such a powerful build, such a broad wingspan, such a majestic dragon head, and such a shocking roar, that mysterious power known as Dragonfear.
So after it launched its attack and killed many people, the alchemist felt a trace of joy, because the righteous cause for counterattack had arrived.
The main restrictions currently limiting the progress of his alchemy lay in the difficulty of obtaining precious materials and high-grade Void traits. A living dragon was unquestionably covered from head to tail in fine things beginning with the word "dragon."
Riding it or killing it was merely a secondary issue.
Victor's subconscious abandoned the dialogue option. Since the other side had already attacked, he would treat it as having no intention of negotiating. If he did not take advantage of having so many helpers now to deal with it, was he supposed to save it for a duel later?
The rational Victor was greedy, and the chuunibyou Corion was bloodthirsty. It took them only one second to reach a consensus. "Kill it, as a requiem for the dead!"
…
Standing in a safe area far from the dragonfire, Foltest noticed something, and the other three also looked back. Because of this, they were fortunate enough to witness the birth of a legend.
At the very instant when the golden dragon once again hovered low in the sky and took a deep breath, preparing to spit flames,
When every soldier was fleeing with their heads in their hands, doing everything they could to escape, a young man in full heavy armor went against the tide. He ran upstream to a nearby spot, almost right beside the dragon's mouth, facing it eye to eye and face to face.
Then his tongue struck like spring thunder. "Fus, Ro, Dah!"
Heaven and earth shook, and wind and clouds thundered!
The roar it had never experienced before made the golden dragon's body sway, and it actually failed to spit out its dragonfire. Sensing that the dragon was indeed incomparable to a siren, and that vibrating its eardrums would not shake it down, Victor did not hesitate. He threw two Grapeshot bombs straight into its mouth, giving it a mouthful of explosions first.
"Bang, boom!" The blast erupted, and the golden dragon released a furious roar. At this point, Angoulême, who should have rushed up to attack its wings, was intimidated by Dragonfear. She stood not far away, holding the Golden Eagle, her legs weak and unable to move.
Dragonfear was enough to make even the bravest person tremble, but it could not frighten Victor in his fiery-red-eyed state. The hymn of humanity was the hymn of courage. A greedy adventurer feared nothing. As long as you dropped loot, he would kill even a god for you!
Unable to injure the wings with the Golden Eagle as expected, and sensing that the dragon was preparing to spread its wings and fly high, Victor did not hesitate to throw out his final trump card, an epic-grade frost bomb, Northern Wind. Bitter cold erupted from behind it, and even its magic-resistant dragon scales were coated with a layer of white frost. The golden dragon could no longer control its body and crashed down from the sky.
A so-called hero was an example. Victor, who understood human nature deeply, drew Blazing Strike and shouted, "Kill the dragon, claim the bounty!"
The soldiers, their morale surging, raised their weapons one after another to attack, but only with ranged crossbow bolts. When it came to approaching the dragon, they still hesitated somewhat.
Fortunately, Angoulême was the first to actively respond. She leapt forward, the Golden Eagle flashing in her hand. With its extraordinary armor-piercing effect, it directly pierced through the scales and, with a wet sound, stabbed deep into the dragon's abdomen.
The power of example was boundless. Seeing someone succeed, the other soldiers thought of the bounty, and all of their eyes went red. No one cared about Dragonfear anymore. They swarmed forward, about to chop it into pieces.
Of course, Victor was not stingy about taking the lead either. Blazing Strike stabbed deep into the dragon's shoulder. The golden dragon turned its head, and Victor's eyes met its own. In those dragon eyes the size of a human face, the man's image was carved deeply into its heart.
Then it suddenly spun in a violent rage, flinging everyone around it away. A ballista bolt whistled in from the distance and smashed heavily beside the golden dragon. Knowing clearly that it had lost the advantage of surprise, the dragon flapped its wings and quickly rose into the sky.
And everyone saw that when the golden dragon spun just now, it had thrown Angoulême, the Golden Eagle of Temeria, and the unstoppable witcher Victor off the wall. Since there was a bottomless abyss below, surely they had both already,
They were both alive. As a user of Eagle Eye vision, as long as there was somewhere to borrow force from, Angoulême feared no fall. Tapping the tips of her feet repeatedly to borrow force, she greatly slowed her descent.
As for Victor on the other side, he was even more relaxed. He directly took a parachute from the herbal satchel. Back in Vizima, he had already made the glider Batman used. Naturally, a life-saving tool for slowing a high-altitude fall would not be absent from the herbal satchel.
King Foltest first glanced at the dragon flying into the distance, now only a black dot, then glanced at Victor and Angoulême falling downward, likewise only black dots. He laughed heartily and joyfully, as if the danger just now had merely been a sideshow. He turned to Vernon Roche. "Although I do not think I will forget, help me remember anyway. When those two return, I must give them a reward that will make anyone jealous."
"Understood, Your Majesty."
"Now let us go to the monastery! Merigold, you are responsible for figuring out exactly what is going on with this dragon!"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
The group followed Foltest away. Geralt, walking at the rear, looked down from the broken wall. Below was a mist-covered river valley.
…
In the misty river valley,
Passing through the faint dusk and relying on Eagle Eye vision, Angoulême soon found Victor's back as he sat on the ground.
The young man had his back to her, and his shoulders were constantly shaking. He was making a lewd chuckling sound, with both hands in front of his lower abdomen, rubbing away.
As an adult, Angoulême of course understood what the leader was doing, but he had just fought fiercely against a dragon, fallen from a great height into the valley, and immediately started polishing his weapon. This sort of confusing human behavior… belonged to a category she completely could not understand. Could it be that the pressure had been too great, so he could not help but relieve it?
Frozen in place, Angoulême hesitated over whether she should go forward and greet him. She had heard that people who were interrupted at such times became very angry… Fortunately, Victor quickly noticed her faint breathing and turned sideways, beckoning for her to come over.
Thank the gods, the leader was wiping a scale… He was not polishing his weapon.
The group member immediately understood what the lewd chuckling was about. This dragon scale had to be extremely precious for him to be this happy.
"Are you hurt?" Victor asked.
Angoulême sat down cross-legged. "No. I am very sorry. I wanted to rush up in my heart, but my hands and feet refused to obey."
"Do not mind it. None of us has experience dealing with dragons. Besides, that was Dragonfear! The fact that you were the first to rush up and land a follow-up strike already fully proved your courage!"
Angoulême stared at the claw marks on the armor over Victor's chest. "Was it worth taking such a huge risk?"
He knocked on the Undvik armor. "It was not actually as dangerous as you imagined. This plate armor was fine after taking a blow from a giant's club, so a dragon's claw will not do much either! I just must not take a fireball head-on.
"And this scale is indeed extremely precious. Although it did not grant any Void traits, if it is ground down and added to forged items, it can greatly improve their toughness. I am inclined to use it on the next armor upgrade first. What do you think?"
"You decide, leader. Where is Blazing Strike?" Noticing that Victor's scabbard was empty, Angoulême asked.
The witcher clenched his fist. "It was stuck in the golden dragon's shoulder and got carried away by it. Sooner or later, I will find that fellow. It is destined to belong to me!"
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