The air inside the cavern burned.
Every breath scraped Ronan's throat, thick with sulfur and rot. The ground beneath their boots was slick and uneven, eaten away by poison that had soaked into the stone over years. A dull green light came from patches of moss and fungus clinging to the walls, casting long, warped shadows across the cavern.
Ronan slowed, lifting a fist.
The party halted behind him.
Something moved ahead.
At the far end of the cavern, a massive shape shifted. Scales dragged against stone with a rough, grinding sound. Slowly, a large head lifted from the haze. Two golden eyes opened and locked onto them.
The poison dragon was awake.
It was larger than Ronan expected. Its body looked bloated and uneven, covered in cracked scales stained green and purple. Poison leaked from its mouth with every breath, dripping onto the floor and pooling around its claws.
Ronan tightened his grip on Raijin.
"Positions," he said, keeping his voice level. "Don't rush it."
"Vanya, be ready."
She nodded and drew mana in, her palms faintly glowing green.
Ysarael stepped forward without drawing her sword, eyes focused on the dragon's legs.
Jareth moved wide, spear in hand, testing his footing as he went.
He grinned.
"Let's see if this thing likes being poked in the eye!"
The dragon moved first.
Its tail swung through the cavern without warning.
"Move!"
Stone shattered where it struck. Jareth jumped, using his spear to push himself onto a rocky ledge as debris scattered across the floor.
The dragon roared. The sound echoed through the cavern, rattling Ronan's chest.
Ronan surged forward.
Lightning burst from Raijin and slammed into the dragon's chest. Scales cracked and blackened, but the dragon barely reacted. It pulled back, poison spilling from its jaws.
Too shallow, Ronan realized. Too early.
"Ysarael!"
She was already acting.
A fox-shaped spirit leapt forward, its pale flames biting into the dragon's leg. A second later, a massive bear spirit slammed into its side, forcing it to stagger.
The dragon shrieked, enraged.
That was when it exhaled.
Poison flooded the cavern in a rolling wave, thick enough to blur vision and choke breath.
"Behind me!" Vanya shouted.
She slammed her staff into the ground, mana flooding through the wood and into the stone beneath.
"Verdant Wall!"
An emerald barrier erupted around them just as the poison hit. The shield trembled under the assault, its surface rippling as caustic fumes ate at the magic.
Vanya gritted her teeth and pushed more mana into the spell.
"Hold, Just… hold." she muttered.
The words slipped out low and sharp—unlike her.
"Just a little longer. Not today, you damn lizard."
None of her comrades noticed.
Perched high on a jagged stalactite, Jareth kept moving above them, hurling spear strikes whenever an opening appeared. He aimed for the eyes, the throat—anywhere exposed.
Neither side gave ground.
Inside the barrier, time slowed. Breathing was hard. No one spoke.
The poison pressed harder. Sweat ran down along Vanya's brow.
When the poison thinned, Ronan moved.
Lightning gathered along Raijin, heavier than before. He stepped forward, planted his feet, and swung.
The strike tore into the weakened joint Ysarael had opened.
The dragon screamed.
Its leg gave way with a sharp crack. It staggered but stayed upright.
"Still standing," Jareth muttered from above.
Ysarael raised her hand.
"Go," she whispered.
From her palm, a spear of spirit energy formed and shot forward, piercing the dragon's chest. The impact forced its head back, exposing its throat.
"Now!" Jareth yelled.
He dove.
His spear drove into the hollow beneath the dragon's jaw. The dragon convulsed, poison spilling from its wounds as its body trembled.
Vanya reinforced the barrier again, this time to contain the unstable magic leaking from the dragon as it began to collapse.
The dragon shook once.
Then it fell.
The impact sent dust and stone raining down.
Silence followed.
Ronan let the lightning fade from Raijin. His arms shook as the tension drained away. He took a slow breath and sat heavily on a nearby rock.
Vanya lowered her staff, nearly losing her balance before steadying herself. Ysarael watched the corpse, unmoving, until she was certain it was dead.
Jareth climbed down and leaned on his spear.
"…That," he said after a moment, "was way too close."
No one disagreed.
The poison dragon lay still.
They had done it. An S-rank dragon—slain without any major injuries.
Skill. Teamwork. And maybe… just a little luck.