The Fallen Warrior

A scorching gust rushed over him, thick with the pungent stench of sulfur and gunsmoke. Beads of sweat rolled down Bren's forehead as tension, anticipation, and dread tangled in his heart. Squinting his left eye shut, he steadied the steel crossbow and lined up his sights on the gap over the wyvern's left chest, his finger resting lightly against the trigger, ready to pull at any moment. By now, the wyvern was less than four hundred meters away from the dwarf; its dive would close the distance in the blink of an eye. And Bren knew he had only one shot. If he failed to strike the heart and slay this dragon-blooded beast in a single blow, what awaited him was almost certainly death! Bren murmured under his breath, "All-Father Moradin, watch over me..." Staring at the oncoming wyvern and feeling the blast of hot wind, the dwarf braced every muscle. The hand holding the steel crossbow trembled ever so slightly, and his heart pounded violently, as if threatening to burst from his chest. Three hundred meters, two hundred meters, one hundred meters... It was very close now. Just one more breath, and the wyvern would be well within his range of certainty, Bren thought. "*Roaaar!*" With an earth-shattering bellow, Smaug's silhouette loomed larger and larger in the dwarven warrior's sight until it swallowed his entire field of view. "Dwarf, I told you—you would pay the price!" Flames and jets of scalding steam vented from Smaug's jaws and nostrils, his golden eyes blazing with fury. Unfurling his wings, he swooped down toward the dwarf with crushing momentum. "Die, vile dragon!" At that very instant, Bren unleashed a furious shout and pulled the trigger with absolute resolve. With a sharp snap, the taut bowstring was finally released! In a fraction of a second, the dwarven steel crossbow unleashed tremendous kinetic energy. The pitch-black Arrow of Dragon Slaying tore through the air with a shrill sonic boom, screaming toward the wyvern's left chest. *Whoosh—* Watching the black arrow slice through the sky, Bren felt a surge of excitement. An overwhelming intuition—the instinct of a legendary fighter—told him this shot was going to hit! Sure enough, just as the dwarf expected, under his precise aim, the black arrow flew as if guided by eyes of its own, streaking straight for the gap in the wyvern's left chest. Anticipation swelled in Bren's heart. He could already picture the black arrow piercing the unscaled skin, punching through the thick flesh, and ultimately skewering that massive, searing heart. And the colossus before him would plunge from the sky with a ringing shriek of agony, crashing violently into the earth... Yet things did not unfold as the dwarf imagined. Smaug had keenly sensed the danger, but he was far too close now. There was no time to dodge, leaving him no choice but to let the black arrow strike his chest. Yet the moment he noticed where the black arrow was aimed, an eerie sneer crept across the wyvern's face. *Clang!* The ring of metal on metal echoed across the sky. The moment the black arrow struck into the gap on his left chest, the arrowhead crumpled and warped, and the arrow shaft was pulverized to dust by the sheer violent impact! Bren's face drained of color in instant shock. "How is this possible?! I clearly hit it! What is that?!" It was too late. Smaug had already arrived before the dwarf amidst a tempest of flames. Unhinging his maw, an incandescent blaze erupted from his throat. Despair broke across Bren's face as he murmured, "This is impossible..." A blistering gale slammed into him like a tsunami. In the final moments of his life, dazzling fire was reflected in the dwarf's eyes. *Boom!* Smaug unleashed his breath weapon at point-blank range with everything he had. The furious dragonfire engulfed the dwarven fighter and set the entire arrow tower ablaze. Yet the wyvern chieftain never forgot Cassius's teachings. Knowing the importance of finishing off an opponent, he lunged straight into the sea of fire and swept his front claws, broad wing-membranes flared, in a vicious strike. Sure enough, Bren was not yet dead. The dwarven fighter was ablaze from head to toe, crackling as if he might burst apart at any moment. "Monster! I'll kill you—!" With a gut-wrenching roar, he mustered every scrap of strength left in him, hoisted his greatsword overhead, and swung it savagely toward the wyvern's head. Smaug swiped from the flank with a front claw, swatting the descending greatsword aside. The dwarven fighter gripping it was hurled through the air, his body still burning. Smaug showed no mercy. Whipping his tail through the air, his razor-sharp tail stinger tore through the wind and lunged straight for the dwarf's chest— *Rip!* The sound of tearing flesh rang out. The dwarf's burly, solid body was impaled on the spot, blood spraying in all directions. Smaug's sequence of attacks was seamless. Adhering to the principle of rooting out any lingering threat, he gave his foe no chance to resist. His master, Cinder Emperor Cassius, had taught him that dragon villains like them must never underestimate such tiny creatures; they had to grind the enemy to dust. Even as he died, a look of bafflement and sheer disbelief lingered on Bren's face. —*He had clearly hit his mark. How could it have done nothing at all?* Smaug looked down at the gap on his left chest and felt a flicker of relief, his admiration and awe for Cassius deepening all the more. Had that black arrow hit anywhere else, it truly might have dealt him a mortal wound. Unluckily for this wretched dwarf, he had chosen the left chest. Smaug sighed in deep reverent praise. "Master is truly wise and peerlessly brilliant. Thank goodness for the adamantine plating he bestowed..." In truth, this was merely Cassius indulging his twisted sense of humor. To recreate the Smaug of his memories, he had deliberately plucked a scale from the wyvern's left chest. In compensation, however, Cassius had imperial craftsmen set a solid plate of adamantine into the gap, painted black so no one could tell the difference. According to Cassius's confident reasoning at the time, rather than waiting for an enemy to discover your actual flaws, it was far better to fabricate an apparent "weakness" to bait them. Such was the fickleness of fate: who would have thought this whimsical joke of Cassius's would genuinely help Smaug win on the battlefield and slay a legendary foe? "*Roaaar!*" Perched atop the blazing tower, Smaug hoisted his tail high, the dwarven corpse dangling from it. He spread his wings and threw back his head in a piercing roar that sent shivers through all of Evindeldan. "Lord Bren is dead!" "He was a hero who slew dragons! How could he die like this...?" "Moradin above, what kind of monster is that?!" Along the ramparts of Evindeldan, the Cinder Empire's assault grew even fiercer. The dwarven defenders were overwhelmed by the blistering firepower of the imperial infantry, and the sight of Bren's demise plunged their spirits into deeper despair. A legendary dwarven fighter had fallen, his very corpse hoisted on the wyvern's tail like a trophy, flaunted triumphantly before the dwarves. All of Evindeldan was choked in thick smoke. The ramparts burned furiously amidst sprawling ruins and piles of dwarven corpses. Artillery screamed incessantly, wyverns screeched across the skies, scaling ladders latched onto the walls, and countless soldiers swarmed upward... To the dwarves, the sight was pure despair. For thousands of years, the city of Evindeldan had been the symbol of unyielding, impregnable strength. Never had the dwarves imagined that one day this fortress would teeter on the brink of ruin, on the verge of falling. Yet now, the nightmare was unfolding right before their eyes. Through the ferocious siege, the empire had already overrun most of the walls and was advancing methodically, ready to breach Evindeldan completely. The dwarves, meanwhile, had suffered devastating casualties. Not only had they lost a legendary fighter, but their garrison of nearly ten thousand had dwindled to fewer than four thousand. "We have not lost yet!" Ed bellowed, standing atop the gate tower and raising his warhammer high. The dwarven king looked magnificent and terrifying. Piled around his feet were corpses of imperial soldiers, including a Dragonscale Marine pounded beyond recognition. To this moment, that the dwarves could barely cling to their defenses was largely due to the king's solitary might. "As long as one of us can still stand, as long as one of us can still swing a hammer, Evindeldan has not fallen, and the Mountain Kingdom is not undone!" Braving the dense hail of bullets, Ed charged into the Cinder Empire's positions. His warhammer swung like a tempest, churning shattered rock and whipping up a storm of dust as he reaped over a hundred lives in moments. "Lord of the Mountain!" "Evindeldan shall never fall!" Witnessing their king's valor, the dwarven warriors found their morale reignited. For what felt like the hundredth time, they rallied behind Ed to launch a desperate counterattack. "Charge!" "Follow His Majesty!" "Counterattack! Take back Evindeldan!" Brandishing their weapons, the dwarves matched Ed's stride, charging toward the tower ahead that had fallen to the empire. *Rat-tat-tat-tat—!* Machine gun muzzles protruded from the tower windows, spitting tongue after tongue of flame and pouring down a torrential sheet of bullets. Ed could withstand cannon shells with his bare flesh, but his people could not. They had indomitable wills, yet lacked bodies tempered in steel, to say nothing of the royal bloodline. Before long, under the sweeping crossfire of imperial soldiers, while the dwarven king pressed forward heroically, the soldiers behind him were cut down one after another in the storm of lead. *Boom!* Ed leapt high and brought his hammer crashing down on the tower, collapsing the masonry and pulverizing the imperial soldiers hunkered behind the barricade. "Open fire!" "Kill him! He's dangerous!" Surrounding imperial soldiers drew their pistols, concentrating their fire on the dwarven king from every direction. But a surge of immense power radiated from Ed's body, deflecting the bullets in an instant. Just as before, Ed smashed through all opposition like splitting bamboo, slaughtering every enemy inside the tower and reclaiming the position entirely on his own. "We won!" Having crushed the last half-dragon soldier on the rampart into paste, Ed turned back in triumph. Yet this time, there was no one behind him. Only a carpet of corpses remained. The royal guards who had followed him through life and death had all fallen to machine gun fire and artillery barrages. Ed climbed to the top of the tower and looked around. All he saw were his dwarven subjects wailing in the flames and struggling through the thick smoke. Against the empire's superior firearms and artillery, the battle was practically one-sided. The dwarven warriors had no way to resist, dying in droves while the imperial troops effortlessly seized tower after tower. "No... this isn't how it was supposed to be..." Ed shook his head in dismay. This was not the end he had envisioned. In Ed's mind, Evindeldan might fall, but he would be remembered by the people of the Feanso Continent; the heroic figures of the dwarven warriors and their unyielding resistance would become legendary tales on everyone's lips. The Mountain Kingdom should not fall so easily. After all, the war had only lasted two days so far, yet the empire had swept through the dwarven defenses like deadwood before a flood. Facing the imperial army, all the tactics the dwarves usually used against orcs were completely useless. Their resistance seemed like a bitter joke. In the eyes of the dwarves, Ed, as Lord of the Mountain, had always been omnipotent and invincible. But now, even he felt lost. Faced with such an army—did their resistance have any meaning at all? A ringing dragon roar echoed across the sky, cutting short Ed's thoughts and setting him on edge once more. "*Roaaar!*" In the distance, the wyvern beat its wings, kicking up waves of hot wind as it looked down on the dwarven king, golden slit pupils radiating battle lust. After slaying that legendary dwarven fighter, Smaug's heart swelled with arrogance, feeling as if he were truly invincible. And soon enough, the wyvern took notice of King Ed, the dwarven king who had inflicted such heavy losses on the empire. Here was an opponent worthy of a fight. Before this war began, Smaug had heard the name: the mighty dwarven king, the exalted Lord of the Mountain... But now, the wyvern saw him only as a glorious prize. "Lord of the Mountain... sounds quite imposing." Smaug could not help but lick his lips, venting a puff of white steam. Slaying this dwarf would surely make the master hold him in even higher esteem. Ed lifted his head and stared straight at the wyvern in the sky without a shred of fear, battle lust igniting within him as well. *This is the monster that killed Bren.* As king, Ed knew Bren's prowess better than anyone, and he felt a profound sorrow over his death. Bren had not only forged a formidable body, but had also traveled far and wide, amassing vast combat experience. He had once slain an adult blue dragon in the Taliro Desert and was honored by his people as a "dwarven hero." From its colossal frame spanning over twenty meters alone, it was clear that the wyvern who had killed Bren was a formidable foe. Even Ed would not take it lightly. "Come, then... I will slay you to avenge Bren, and for all my people who perished in the flames!" Ed tightened his grip on the metal warhammer and glared intently at the wyvern, a bright yellow light flaring in his eyes.