Chapter 357: Uber Rex (2)

The closer they got to the dragon, the more frequently monster groups spawned by its rampage appeared.

“A large gnoll pack ahead. They haven’t noticed our approach yet.”

In the forest’s chaos, they were either wanderers who had lost their original territory, or hunters preying on such weakened creatures. This time it was the former.

“They were apparently attacked while traveling as a group. Females and young are among them—they’re quite tired.”

As it happened, Eugene’s approach came from a hillside, allowing them to get close undetected.

On a blood-stained grassland, gnolls who had just finished eating were resting. In human warfare, corpses were merely baggage to dispose of, but for monsters, they were the finest reward.

“Not a single dead gnoll in sight. They must have crushed their attackers decisively. What kind of idiots charged without even comparing forces?”

Experienced knights explained the young knight’s confusion.

“They were careless, yes, but against gnolls, misjudgment is easy. Those things don’t even set up camp or light fires. Their fur keeps them warm and they don’t cook, you see.”

“When they’re at rest, they all lie belly-down, so even in large numbers they’re hard to spot. Especially in a forest like this.”

With more gnolls than attackers, the choice cuts had already vanished. Young gnolls clutched the remaining orc heads, gnawing on them.

“Your Majesty. They seem to lose their appetite even when they see orc heads.”

“Maybe they’re saving them for the children—the meat is tender and there are eyeballs.”

Young gnolls who ranked too low to claim heads approached adults with bones instead.

Crunch.

Adult gnolls crushed the bone fragments in one bite, then the young chewed them like snacks to fill their bellies. They never knew when the next meal would come, so they had to eat to the limit when the opportunity arose.

“They won decisively, but that doesn’t mean they suffered no losses. Look over there.”

“…As expected of monsters—truly disgusting creatures.”

The young knight, looking where the elder knight pointed, grimaced.

Among the heads the young gnolls ate was one belonging to a fellow gnoll warrior. As with most lower monsters, gnolls had no aversion to cannibalism.

“We’ll wipe them out too. Prepare to attack.”

The dragon itself was the problem, but monsters rampaging everywhere were also a major threat to nearby settlements. Clearing them held meaning for Eugene just as it had for Ostir’s tours.

Moments later, heavily armored knights and crossbowmen charged, shouting their respective gods’ or Eugene’s name. The gnolls, startled, grabbed their weapons, but their bodies stiffened at the sight and dense iron scent of an army they’d never encountered.

“Charge! Charge!”

“After all that eating, can you even fight properly?”

The gnolls, drained from both the march and the feast, had consumed the orcs from head to toe.

In the wild, this was entirely natural. Even if their heavy bodies met a stronger predator, they could throw some members as a diversion and flee.

But when cavalry charged with the intent of annihilation, the story changed. Before the devastating charge of heavy cavalry—an experience never encountered in the Great Forest—the gnolls couldn’t recover their wits.

“Right side! Aim for the right!”

“Keep pushing the females and young!”

Especially when flanked right after marching and feasting, it was fatal. Warriors who would normally endure were shattered by the cavalry charge, exposing the females and young.

“■■■!”

The gnoll warriors had to fight at a disadvantage without even minimum formation, trying to protect their families.

The most excited party was the crossbowmen who had followed. The gnolls, without shields, were blocking with their bodies to shield females and young.

“They’re coming to die on their own.”

Thrust! Thwack!

That courage and self-sacrifice crumbled before the siege crossbow bolts raining down.

“Hyah!”

“Widen the spread!”

Centauresses formed a wide encirclement outside the combat zone, firing poison arrows at gnolls trying to escape.

It was a dangerous action given the location—they risked attack from a third monster group appearing behind them. But the very essence of centauresses was performing their encirclement duty while remaining vigilant of such dangers.

It was an excellent ambush, but Eugene’s attention was elsewhere. He was reviewing dragon records gathered from various sources.

“Hardening skin is one thing, but using camouflage like a mimic octopus… Should I fire an arrow first if anything looks suspicious…”

Unlike the troubled Eugene, Homi looked confident.

“No matter how well it hides, with that body, how much can it conceal? There are several skilled scouts right here.”

“Don’t think of it like a white fox on a snowfield or a leopard in rocky terrain. It can blend with its surroundings in every region and situation—not just color, but texture too.”

Homi still looked puzzled.

“A fallen tree or boulder could suddenly rise and attack. Perfectly replicating even the leaves and moss on its surface to ambush.”

Since the dragon likely couldn’t reduce its own size, if it camouflaged, it would imitate large objects. Eugene ordered that any object above a certain size near the march route be scouted without exception.

“…Is that possible?”

“There are creatures that actually do it. Not small ones—creatures of this size doing it is something even I find hard to believe.”

“It might fool my eyes, but it can’t fool my nose.”

Eugene patted Homi’s head. Homi’s sense of smell had never failed in tracking, but the opponent was still a dragon.

Not merely a large and powerful monster, but an existence chosen by nature and bequeathed all its mysteries. In a sense, a divine beast that could be called nature’s champion.

“The records from the Dryad Village make what the elves know look pathetic.”

Valda rolled up the scrolls written in elven script. These were documents provided by the elf villages they’d passed through on the way here.

“The dragon itself is an incredibly rare existence, so it can’t be helped. What records exist are mostly half-legend.”

“I hate to say it, but each elf village is essentially a closed system. Records aren’t shared, it seems.”

Valda murmured self-deprecatingly. With their combined efforts, the few records they had were even less reliable.

“They say it’s especially greedy for shiny things and can be lured with gold.”

Homi contributed stories from the outside world. Eugene had also brought gold ingots on Nikolai’s advice.

-Impossible. Dragons are wise and care only for things belonging to nature. Luring with jewels is impossible.

But Teresa had denied this.

-However, there are many stories of gold and treasure vanishing from places attacked by dragons?

-That would be the first arrivals at the ruins taking expensive items and using the dragon as an excuse.

-Oh…

Even if an entire family was massacred, the possessions were still noble property. Relatives would claim ownership, so unauthorized people touching even a coin was a crime.

But if one claimed the dragon took it, who would argue?

It was similar to why there had been so many philandering gods in ancient times. They fathered children through affairs and, unable to tell the truth, blamed the gods.

“There is one method from ancient elves that actually worked.”

“What was it?”

“Offering tribute that would satisfy the dragon.”

“Sacrifices?”

A barbaric method, but against a living natural disaster, the calculus changed. From a utilitarian rather than personal-interest perspective, offering people was somewhat acceptable. It wasn’t some suspicious pagan ritual.

“No. Setting aside right and wrong, I can’t even fathom how many elves would need to be sacrificed to satisfy a dragon.”

The scrolls Valda spread showed tightly bound bugbears and various sleep/charm herbs. Detailed instructions on how to carefully season and decorate them after live-capture with poison bait.

“One bugbear is indeed worth more than ten elves with barely any meat on them.”

Unlike the practical dryad records, the elf information held many interesting points—probably mixed with legends and folk tales.

“What else is there?”

“There’s an unprotected area beneath the scales connected to the heart. If a light-footed warrior infiltrates while the dragon sleeps and stabs it with a spear, it can inflict serious injury.”

“Isn’t that a rumor that applies to all large reptilian monsters?”

According to dryad records, the dragon had no scales. Its skin could harden, and it had poor compatibility with camouflage—natural for a reptile.

More points emerged, but none proved helpful. Barcia had a precedent of burning an entire forest to drive out a hydra using heat and smoke.

But employing that tactic in this Great Forest was out of the question. Its effectiveness was uncertain, and driving the dragon away could make every resident here an eternal enemy.

“As always, it comes back to steel.”

Eugene looked back at the Lantzheim artillery following behind.

The Dryad Village had provided numerous premium catalysts including mandrakes, and they had several capable summoners to use them. Plus many magical artifacts collected from around the world.

“With your army as opposition, even a dragon wouldn’t dare charge head-on.”

Valda spoke apologetically.

“Without you, the elf villages wouldn’t have handed over their ancient records so readily. Thanks to that, we know Ostir is fighting the dragon with inadequate information.”

After coolly comparing both forces’ capabilities, Eugene’s judgment was: the dragon would win.

Whether Ostir died or survived, most of his followers would defect. Even if the dragon was subdued, the damage would far exceed Ostir’s imagination. Either way, it wasn’t a bad situation.

Meanwhile, the battle had ended. The gnolls were being slaughtered one-sidedly, and confirmation kills were underway.

“Tsk.”

“What are you doing? Your hands are idle.”

“I know, I know.”

The soldiers assigned to cleanup duty had bitter expressions—most of what they were killing were young specimens. Unlike the fiercely resisting adults, the young had been flattened on the ground, so many survived.

“Don’t spare them just because they’re young.”

“Even monsters are cute when they’re babies.”

“Goblins and orcs are ugly even when young. Only furred ones are cute.”

A rookie being slapped by a veteran for wanting to release young monsters after a subjugation was a common sight. Gnolls and rakshasa were regular guests.

“Females with swollen bellies must be thoroughly stabbed even after death.”

“Is that really necessary? They’re dead anyway.”

“If gnolls are large enough, the young continue growing inside the mother’s corpse even after she dies.”

“How is that possible…? There’s nothing to eat. How do they breathe?”

“They can. It’s the most nourished period of a gnoll’s life—covered in plentiful meat.”

Another case of cannibalism.

“Don’t think in human terms. Starting from lying belly-down, their survival instincts are unmatched by any creature.”

Thrust.

A scene reminiscent of the Samur rakshasa subjugation—it was brutal.

*

At that moment, the elf army caught in the dragon’s ambush was in chaos.

“Run!”

After the first casualty, elves who had been eating or resting nearby scrambled to flee. But the dragon’s attack range was far wider than they imagined.

The dragon’s tail swept the ground like a broom, sending caught elves flying en masse.

“Ugh!”

“…”

Only a minority coughed blood from severe internal injuries. Most died instantly, faces buried in the ground, convulsing.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The dragon, having returned to its original position, approached—each footstep creating thunderous sound. Two elves who barely dodged the tail were immediately caught, one in each hand.

“Kuaaaah!”

“Aaaargh!”

Its cunning eyes looked down on the elf army, gradually adjusting its force. It intended to break their morale by broadcasting the screams of pain far and wide.

But the opponent wasn’t some monster tribe—it was a king’s army. Though ambushed, they were hardened by the Great Forest’s harsh living. With numbers and preparation, they quickly reorganized and launched a counterattack.

“Archers, don’t form one group!”

“Spread out and fire at individual discretion!”

Arrows rose from all directions as riders mounted raptors and took up lances. The dragon, realizing its fear tactics weren’t working, grew angry.

Crunch!

The two elves in its hands were crushed completely before being thrown.

“Oh my god.”

The sight of compatriots flying through the air like ragdolls crushed the morale even of the bravest.

“Fire!”

Arrows rose from all directions, but nothing pierced the dragon’s hide. Having abandoned camouflage, the dragon was protected by infinitely interlocking hexagonal scales—so tough they couldn’t be called animal skin.

“Damn it! There are no scales?”

Recently joined elf tribe members despaired trying to find the “legendary weak point.”

“The eyes! Aim for the eyes!”

“The hide is harder than expected! Ignore everything else and gouge out the eyes!”

Though the elf elites’ accuracy was considerable, not a single arrow hit the eyes. The dragon had faced countless ranged attackers before—it knew how to deal with this.

It closed its eyes the moment it saw the bows and swept its tail like a broom. Each time, screams erupted as elves flew through the air.

“Where are the Black Arrows? Why aren’t they firing?!”

“No, how can it move around so smoothly with its eyes closed?”

With each tail sweep, an entire squad disappeared—an unprecedented sight that made the chieftains scream.

The dragon moved as smoothly as a blind knight Godfrey even with its eyes shut. The secret was the small holes beneath its nostrils. Something neither elves nor dryads knew about—a biological secret.

Pit organs.

The heat-sensing organs found in certain snakes, including pythons, helped the dragon read the battlefield even with closed eyes. Without them, keeping both eyes intact during its rampages would have been difficult.

“Save me!”

“My leg…”

Every time it raked or swatted the red-looking lumps, they burst with a splat—red puddles forming. The dragon greatly enjoyed this sight.

At that moment, the mages summoning spirits caught the dragon’s attention. The arcane scent from another dimension entered its nostrils, passed through its lungs, and exited.

KRAAAAAWRH!!!!!

The dragon’s roar, projected in a cone shape, disrupted the mages’ concentration, causing them to collapse.

Most summons were canceled, and spirits that barely completed manifestation fled from the tyrant’s breath. Some spirits, seizing the opportunity, attacked the mages.

“It’s hot! Hoooooot!”

“Lord Mage!”

“Water! Quickly, bring water!”

A mage who had fainted, then been attacked by a fire spirit and become a human torch, thrashed about.

Most spirit contracts involved the mage providing tribute and receiving control for a period. Spirits paid in advance would, given the chance, try to kill the mage and gain freedom.

That was why a mage losing consciousness while contracted with a spirit was extremely dangerous.

“Crossbowmen are climbing trees and rooftops. They say the only way to do real damage is to get as close as possible to high ground…”

Elf rangers were also trying to find optimal firing positions.

“Dragon riders, charge!”

“Never engage head-on! Harass their rear and flanks as much as possible!”

Druid dragon riders mounted on raptors—same saurian species—rode forward.

“Chaaaaaarge!”

Riders with lances leveled shouted their charge.

Kiyaaaar-!

As if responding to their masters’ courage, the raptors roared and charged.

The dragon riders executed their plan—feinting frontal assault before splitting left and right, extending their lances. But the dragon’s tail was the problem.

“Careful—”

A massive tail swing created tremendous air pressure, and the raptors instinctively ducked. The problem was the riders on top.

…?

…?

The raptors, suddenly lighter on their backs, looked back in confusion. Their masters were flying through the air like pinwheels in the distance.

Thanks to their sacrifice, the dragon riders charging from the other side could reach the dragon’s flanks and rear.

Thwack! Thrust!

A lance propelled by a raptor’s acceleration pierced the dragon’s leg—a hit at last. But it wasn’t a deep wound.

“Damn it! How hard is that hide?!”

“It doesn’t matter! Get on it!”

Raptors had less charging momentum than warhorses, but offered diverse tactical options immediately after impact.

Raptors began climbing onto the dragon’s body with riders still mounted. Some used their excellent jumping ability to land on its flank, while others used the dragon’s thigh or hip as a foothold to climb.

“Die! You damn monster!”

Riders gripping lances with reverse grip hacked downward. As druids, the lance heads had special treatment. Small cuts began multiplying rapidly on the dragon’s skin.

It was like ants swarming a bird. The dragon thrashed, throwing some riders off, but most held on.

KRAAAAAWRH!!!!!

Realizing this wasn’t working, the dragon chose a donkey’s secret weapon—the Naretagon.

“Wait, wh—?!”

The riders stabbing lances found their last words were cut short. The massive dragon rolled its entire body on the ground. An undignified move for such a colossal beast, but devastatingly effective.

Crack! Crack!

The sound of bones shattering rang majestically as the earth overturned and dust scattered. Not just the clinging riders, but those watching for opportunities on the ground were also caught and crushed.

The dragon alone walked out from the dust cloud. Its expression, seething with fury from pain it had never experienced, showed it was no longer satisfied with mere feeding.

“Rangers! Don’t let their sacrifice be in vain!”

Black Arrows were aimed at the dragon. An ambush no one had expected, combined with the dragon’s extraordinary combat awareness. Too many sacrifices had been made—this had to be repaid.

But the dragon sensed the Black Arrows the moment they were drawn. It detected the wind spirits infused in the feathers.

For a spiritually sensitive dragon, these magical arrows were more conspicuous than hidden ballistae or catapults.

Shoo!

All arrows loosed simultaneously, mostly aiming for weaker vital points. But the dragon had already dodged.

A few struck its torso, but they hit thick-skinned areas at bad angles—no effective damage.

“It’s coming this way!”

The dragon’s body tackle sent trees toppling, and elf rangers on top fell, severely injured.

With each massive tail swing, the hammer-like appendage at its tip split and crushed buildings.

“Aaargh!”

Elf rangers firing from rooftops were crushed under collapsing structures.

“We must retreat immediately!”

“If we retreat now, we’ll never catch it!”

Lasrandir shouted, but Ostir was stubborn.

“Retreating means annihilation!”

“Your Majesty, please!”

Other chieftains also tried to persuade, but that only drew the dragon’s attention.

“Oh no—”

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Black Arrows were spent, elf rangers annihilated. With the nuisance elite warriors gone and the royal guard and chieftains gathering—emitting strong fighting spirit—they became impossible to ignore.

In any battle against grouped enemies, the most important thing was killing the leader. The dragon shook the earth as it charged toward Ostir.