Chapter 72: Because It Is All Too Fragile (2)
Crimson surged forth. It was not fire—yet it burned brighter than flame, a radiant scarlet blaze.
The rising crimson energy seared the darkness, filling the cavern and drawing a vast circle across the air, its center dyed in deeper red and shadow.
This was a kind of Gate—but of a lineage different from ordinary ones. Most gates simply connect two points within a certain distance. A higher tier, the Dimension Gate, could bypass most restrictions and link any two spaces within the same world.
But this was different. This was not a door within one world, but a rift to another, calling forth beings beyond. It was a summoner's art—the Astral Portal, a dimensional gate that bridged to another plane.
From within, the Legion emerged.
The first sight was crimson—vast, overwhelming crimson.
Under the glow of the portal, ruby-like scales gleamed. Black horns jutted skyward. Between the armor-like plates of its hide, golden eyes flashed, slit pupils burning with predatory light.
Its form was a harmony of curves and jagged edges, beauty perfected in monstrous scale. Behind its tightly closed jaws, between its fangs, shimmered the mirage of fire.
An adult Red Dragon.
Even a single one could reduce a city to ash, raze nations, and plunge the world into terror—the apex of phantasmal beasts. And yet this was only the first.
No incantation so grand would summon but one.
In Yggdrasil, "magic" took countless forms. Beyond the root branches of divine and necromantic spells, there were offshoots innumerable: sorcery, onmyodo, and more.
But apart from them all, there existed something else.
Spells of power surpassing even the highest tier—Super-Tier Magic, or magic defined as Skills. For example, unlocking the World-Class item World Disaster at its peak granted access to the skill-spell Grand Catastrophe.
Beyond classification, some players gave these anomalous powers their own name—borrowed from the lore of the old game upon which Yggdrasil was built: Epic Spells.
The magic now invoked was one of those. Normally, the class Dragon Knight at max level allowed the summoning of a single dragon of level 70 strength, bound to serve for a short time.
But for one who had obtained the class Dragon Lord, a greater power was unlocked:
Epic Spell: Dragon Strike.
The spell demanded five full minutes of chanting, and lasted only five minutes more. Yet in that brief span, it summoned a legion of dragons, each of level 70 or higher—a force unrivaled among summoning arts.
From beyond the portal came a thunderous sound like war drums, like mountains struck again and again. Gigantic golden eyes, larger than a child's body, gleamed from the darkness, flashing as they pressed forward.
Behind the first black-horned Red Dragon followed another of equal size, its horns white as bone. Then another, and another—each pushing through the Astral Portal, each enormous body forcing its way into this world.
Beneath the shadows of the mountains, the crimson legion appeared.
The earth quaked. The land writhed in terror. The cavern, once cool, suffocated with searing heat. One, two, three—in mere moments ten Red Dragons stood in formation.
Ten adults, each body stretching more than ten meters, their presence alone enough to smother the world in crimson dread.
One dragon could annihilate armies. Ten surpassed the limits of mortal comprehension. It was a true legion—the Legion of Dragons.
At their head, the first black-horned Red Dragon lowered its massive head to the ground before Tiamat.
"Give us your command, O Lord."
Its head alone was several meters long, its sheer weight pressing down on the cavern like a collapsing mountain. Yet Tiamat felt no burden, no pressure. The gale from the dragon's bow whipped his hair wildly, but his face betrayed no fear.
Behind the curtain of golden hair, his eyes trembled faintly—but the dragons did not see.
"Lord, is it? You would name me master, then. Am I to take it as such?"
"Of course. We are bound to obey the will of our Lord in all things."
The great dragon's head dipped once more, and the nine behind it followed in unison. Merely the act of ten colossal heads bowing together stirred a gale like a typhoon.
It was a sight grand and magnificent—yet Tiamat became aware of something startling: he was perfectly calm.
"This is… honestly, just troublesome."
His mind was a whirl. The dragon legion before him, their thunderous voices calling him "Lord," the storm-force winds from their bows—all of it was chaos. But what unsettled him most was not them. It was himself.
His heart did not race.
Most people, faced with such a sight, would be unable to suppress their pounding hearts—whether in awe, pride, fear, or sheer thrill at such overwhelming obedience. But Tiamat's pulse beat as steadily as ever, perhaps a touch faster, but nowhere near the frantic thrum one might expect.
By contrast, he remembered the moments when it had. The first time he opened his eyes in this world. When he met the crying Monkyspanner. When he encountered Ea. When he gazed upon Shinshi. When a sudden breath attack had nearly struck him. In those moments, his chest had truly pounded. That feeling of shock and raw bewilderment was unforgettable.
But since then, his thrills had dulled. The joy of walking free beneath open skies. Meeting the Dragon's Dream adventuring party. Drinking in the beauty of nature, the strength of his new body, the bustling dwarf city, or even the taste of fine beer—these brought happiness, yes, but not enough to send his heart racing.
Now, staring at ten Red Dragons kneeling before him, he felt only one emotion: irritation.
His mind told him he should be awed, overwhelmed. Yet his heart whispered only, "What a bother." He even regretted summoning them.
Why?
Before him stood a scene beyond fantasy films, an army of true dragons offering him fealty. Any mortal would tremble with exaltation. But Tiamat's body refused to respond.
"What is this feeling? Just… troublesome."
Annoyance prickled within him. And so, he chose to vent that annoyance in the simplest way possible. He had summoned them, after all. If the summoning worked, surely dismissal would as well. With that lazy thought, he gave his first command.
"Then… fine. Eradicate the Quagoa."
The words slipped out casually—words that might spell the extinction of an entire race. Yet he was barely aware of it. To him it was like crushing ants beneath his heel, or swatting mosquitoes that buzzed too close.
But when the Red Dragons did not move, his expression darkened. They merely glanced at one another nervously, massive bodies shifting awkwardly, even curling their tails. The sight was pathetic, so far from the majesty they had shown moments ago, it made him scowl.
"What are you waiting for? I told you—destroy the Quagoa."
"Forgive us, Lord… but… what are these 'Quagoa'?"
"…."
Tiamat closed his eyes tightly. Of course. There were no monsters by that name in Yggdrasil. Similar creatures perhaps—but nothing called Quagoa. These dragons, born of that world, could not possibly know. He himself would have been equally puzzled, had the dwarves not explained it to him earlier.
"Fools… I didn't even think of that." He grimaced, realizing how foolish he must have seemed, posturing only to trip over a gap in knowledge.
The dragons, unsettled by their lord's displeasure, rolled their massive golden eyes anxiously.
"Lord, forgive us. Our wisdom is lacking—we could not fully grasp your will…"
"…Enough. Forget it. I'll give another command."
Half-lowering his head, Tiamat pointed away from the dwarven fortress, toward the echoing roars beyond. The arrival of the dragons had clearly stirred the enemy, whose howls now rose even louder in the distance. Their noise grated on his already-frayed nerves.
"There—over there. The creatures making that racket. Wipe out the ones that look like them."
He paused, reconsidering. If they slew them all, would that mean extinction? Quagoa fed on minerals, adapted their pelts to survive—they might be useful, perhaps. And though only monsters, it seemed reckless to erase a whole race over an idle order. He hesitated, then adjusted his command.
"Not all. Just enough to silence the noise. Cull them until they no longer offend me."
"We hear and obey, Lord!"
"We hear and obey!"
This time, the ten Red Dragons responded at once, spreading their vast wings. Winds howled through the cavern as they unfurled, fire seething between their fangs. They bowed their heads once more to Tiamat—then surged skyward in a storm.
Lightning split the air. Flames rained down. Screams rose, turned to howls, then to silence.
Listening to the chaos fade into stillness, Tiamat sighed softly, turned on his heel, and made his way back toward the Leaky Cask, where he had left his place.
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