Paragon Of Destruction
/ Paragon of Destruction 168 Dumber Than Rocks
Worse, Arran had nowhere to run. The valley's rocky land was almost completely open for a hundred paces on either side of him, and behind him lay the steep cliff they had just scaled — a four hundred foot chasm with nothing but sharp rocks at the bottom.
As the dragon approached him, Arran quickly moved backward, until he reached the edge of the cliff. It was a terrible plan, but he had no other choice. All he could do now was hope that the creature was indeed as dumb as Crassus and Snowcloud said.
The creature was almost upon him just a moment later, baring its foot-long teeth in anticipation of the kill. Up close, it was even more frightful than it had been from a distance, with its mass almost making it like an avalanche that was hurtling toward Arran.
Despite his fear, Arran did not try to run. Instead, he waited until the very last moment, holding his ground even as every fiber of his body screamed at him to flee.
Then, using every shred of strength his body held, he leaped aside.
The creature swiped at Arran with its claws as it barreled past him, only barely missing. But then, it reached the cliff's edge. Seeing the abyss before it, it briefly struggled to come to a halt, but it was no use — between its vast mass and its staggering speed, its momentum was all but unstoppable.
A deafening screech sounded as the dragon slid past the steep cliff's edge and plummeted into the chasm. A few seconds later, it smashed into the rocks below with a thunderous crash.
Arran immediately looked over the cliff's edge, only letting out a deep sigh of relief when he saw the creature lying motionless at the bottom of the cliff.
Even in the few short moments the dragon had been near him, he had been astounded by the aura of power that surrounded it. It wasn't just the physical strength of a barn-sized monster, he knew — when the creature neared him, he had Sensed that it held a staggering amount of Natural Essence.
"Should've used your blanket," a voice sounded behind Arran.
When Arran turned around, he saw Crassus standing there, the man's face pale and his brow covered in sweat. Calm though he sounded, it was clear that the encounter had shaken him.
"It was too late for that," Arran said. "It had already seen me."
"Doesn't matter," Crassus replied, wiping the sweat from his face with his blanket. "They're dumb as rocks, especially the young ones. You can hide while they're watching, and they still won't know where you went." He peered over the cliff, then said, "We should get moving."
"Not yet," Arran said. "I want to take a look at the body first."
"The body?" Crassus chuckled. "It's not dead. Hurt, maybe, but give it a few hours and it'll be back up on its feet, vicious as ever."
Arran looked at the man with some disbelief. "You're telling me it survived a fall like this?"
Crassus simply nodded. "Dumb as the things are, they'd have died out long ago if they couldn't take a hit or two. We should get out of here before it recovers. Fall like that, it should be at least some hours before… hey, where are you going?!"
Even before Crassus finished talking, Arran hurried down the narrow path along the cliff. If the dragon would soon recover, he couldn't afford to wait — there was just a brief window where the creature would still be dazed from its injuries, and he couldn't let that opportunity go to waste.
In just a few weeks or months, he and Snowcloud would have to face a far larger dragon, and although it would be poisoned, Arran had no doubt that it would still put up a fight.
But now, he had the chance to kill a heavily wounded dragon, and from its corpse, he could learn what the creatures' weak spots were. And while fighting a gravely injured dragon would still be dangerous, the knowledge he could gain now would help him face an even greater danger.
He reached the bottom of the cliff barely a minute later, his Essence-enhanced body allowing him to move far faster than a commoner could. Then, immediately, he headed for the injured dragon, drawing his sword as he approached.
As he drew closer to the dragon, he could see that even if it wasn't dead, its injuries were grievous. Two of its legs seemed to have shattered, and bone could be seen sticking from one of them.
But for all the dragon's injuries, Arran quickly realized that Crassus had been right — the monster wasn't dead yet. A loud, grating sound could be heard as it breathed, and although its eyes were closed, Arran saw that its chest moved with every breath it took.
He did not hesitate in attacking. At once, he rushed toward the creature, swinging his starmetal sword at its neck with every bit of strength he could muster — a force strong enough to tear through stone or steel with ease.
Yet although he struck with devastating power, he was astonished to see that his blade only barely cut an inch into the creature's neck, its thick scales easily resisting the brunt of the blow.
Arran readied himself for another blow, but before he could strike, the creature's uninjured front leg suddenly lashed out at him. Arran had been ready for this, and he dodged backward the instant he saw the creature move.
Still, the dragon moved with such speed that its razor-sharp claws grazed Arran even as he dodged, leaving behind three half-inch-deep wounds on his chest. Ignoring the pain, he hurriedly took another few steps backward, moving out of range of the creature's claws.
He took a moment to regain his bearings, his mind racing as he tried to think of a way to kill a creature that seemed nearly impervious to damage.
Just then, the creature opened its dark-yellow eyes. For a second, it stared at Arran with a hungry look, and then it began to move forward, seeming unbothered by the buckling of its shattered legs as it moved.
In its crippled state, the creature moved far slower than before, and Arran knew he could still make an escape if he ran. Yet although he was tempted to flee, he knew an opportunity like this would not come again.
Instead, he waited until the dragon put its weight on its uninjured front leg, and then he dashed forward like an arrow, moving with all the speed he had as he rammed his sword into the dragon's opened eye.
This time, there was barely any resistance, and before the creature had a chance to respond, the blade was buried to the hilt in its head, with several feet of starmetal piercing its brain.
That should be enough to kill the creature, but by now, Arran was wary enough of its toughness that he immediately ripped out the sword and darted backward again. And it was a good thing that he did, because an instant later the razor-sharp claws lashed out again, this time only hitting air.
Arran quickly backed up further, by now thoroughly astonished at the dragon's ability to withstand punishment. By any reasonable standard, the creature should be long dead, but somehow, it still moved forward.
Yet just as he began to plan his retreat, the dragon faltered. It took another two steps, its remaining eye still focused on Arran, but then it suddenly collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut, its strength finally exhausted.
Even so, Arran did not dare to be relieved yet. Quickly, he rushed at the dragon, then rammed his sword all the way into its remaining eye, following up with another handful of violet stabs.
Only when he was sure that the dragon's brain was thoroughly destroyed did he finally breathe a sigh of relief. And even so, he took several dozen steps away from the giant creature's corpse before he dared to relax.
For several minutes, he sat there in silence, staring at the giant creature in front of him.
The sight did not bring him any comfort or confidence — if even a juvenile was this hard to kill, then killing an adult would be all but impossible. And yet, that was what he and Snowcloud planned to do.
Chapter end
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