Chapter 452 - Trials and Tributions II

  Cire tilted her head and mreeped as she watched the skeletal lizard rise from its nest. From head to toe, it stood roughly twenty meters tall. It might have been able to reach thirty had it straightened its back, but it sported an awkward, forward tilt that was only further emphasized by the way it craned its neck and opened its jaws. Evidently, it was a roar, albeit a failed one, performed without any consideration for its ck of organs.

  The so-called dragon seemed to realise this as well, as it raised a talon to its missing lips and cleared its throat before repeating the gesture. The second time around, it supplemented the feigned scream with a burst of mana and produced precisely the sort of deep, guttural wail expected of the towering colossus.

  But apparently, not even that was quite enough, as it shook its head and whispered itself a few words of encouragement before making a third attempt. Only then, after it ced the sound waves with magic and shook the mountain again, did it finally nod in satisfaction.

  Cire almost broke into ughter. It didn’t help that the bone dragon covered its face with its talons to hide a supposed blush when it realized that she was staring bnkly, not at all intimidated by its feral scream. In a way, the creature almost reminded her of Sylvia. At the very least, it was just as silly.

  Still, they would fight to death.

  Cire was first to return her attention to the impending conflict. She looked briefly at Boris and Starrgort, both of whom had been knocked off of her tail during the preceding earthquakes, before beckoning the former with a vector.

  She cloned him seven times on his way over and set up an array of bdes behind her. Each was in a different configuration; there was a nce for ramming, a hammer for smashing its bones, and a sword for general use. She had even turned one particurly heavy Boris into a staff, in case she needed to focus on casting.

  It almost seemed likely. The dragon’s still-raised stance suggested it was probably more of a mage than a close-combatant. Its aura only furthered the impression. Magic and divinity poured from its body like water from an open faucet. And it was precisely with a combination thereof that the dragon unched its first attack.

  Fpping its fleshless wings, it summoned a torrent of roaring fire, a dozen waves of camitous fmes over a hundred meters tall. The particur choice of magic didn’t seem like the wisest choice on a day so wet and grimy, but its raw firepower blew any such consideration straight out of the water.

  A series of steam explosions followed its path. Every raindrop it touched was instantly superheated, obliterated without a trace. Not a single spark had made contact with the rocky crater. And yet, all the material was melted, either turned to gss or bubbling mush. Even Starrgort scuttled out of the way to avoid the white-hot fme.

  Cire, however, remained exactly where she was. Simply lowering her stance, she dashed straight through the fire with Boris drawn and ready. The dragon didn’t catch on until she emerged unscathed and swung her hammer towards its jaw. Though caught off guard, the monster avoided the attack with a simple twist of the head. It countered by spping the lyrkress with its wings, but she ducked between its bones. Evading the accompanying tailstrike, Cire made a beeline for its spine. But again, even though she had extended it threefold, her hammer found nothing but air. The dragon had readily sidestepped the blow.

  Cire flicked her tongue as she attacked with the other seven Borises, but again, the dragon ducked and weaved. Despite its size, it carried itself as lightly as a bloom in the wind. It even raised its arms overhead and spun on one leg to evade the st few strikes.

  The smug ballerina maintained its act until the next barrage was unched. Cire doubled the number of Borises and sent all of them flying at once. Each lizard’s vector was independently computed, calcuted such that the differently shaped and weighted weapons would all nd in tandem.

  And that was precisely why the dragon made use of an irritatingly familiar function and suddenly shrank to a tenth its prior size.

  A light in its cold, dead eyes, it spun right past the barrage of floating weapons and opened its mouth to counter. It spent a copious amount of divinity to create and flood a fresh set of magic circuits. They were pced where its lungs once were and leveraged to expel a fming breath. As was with the case of the roar, the skeletal lizard cked the means to propel the attack with its organs, so it compensated by crafting a barrel of wind.

  Having inherited the property from Cire, the Borises were entirely immune to fire. And yet, their bodies were melted, damaged for the first time since they had entered the Langgbjerns. If not for Dorr’s blessing, they surely would have been destroyed. Instead, the lizards blinked, looking at each other before shaking as the goop and returning to their previous forms.

  Finally, it was the dragon’s turn to find itself annoyed. Growling under its breath, it dug its feet into the ground and arched its back, as if to take an even deeper breath whilst reconstructing its circuits—the first set had fallen apart, following its fiery attack.

  As, no such opportunity was given.

  Cire teleported behind the dragon and wrapped her serpentine body around it. She squeezed as tightly as she could, forcing the air from its non-existent lungs and stealing its mana before it could complete its breath. Both her grip and her position were solid. All she needed to do was squeeze.

  But no matter how hard she pressed, she found her efforts ignored. The dragon simply flexed its shoulders and pushed her away, forcibly dislodging her from its body without so much as the slightest effort.

  It followed the attack by snapping its jaws at her neck, but she smacked Boris into its throat and sent it flying away.

  Cire transformed as soon as she nded the attack. Turning humanoid, she ripped open a portal in the monster’s path and struck it as soon as it entered her range. Her hammer rang true; it made a heavy clunk as it nded square in the dragon’s jaw. By all means, it was a devastating blow. Boris was at his maximum weight, and she had backed it with the full force of her body and her vectors.

  And yet, she found that the skeleton was undamaged. Even though she had struck the thinnest part of its face, it took the hit in stride.

  Skidding to a halt just a few dozen meters away, it steadied itself with a fp of the wings and gave her an irritatingly smug smile.

  She could tell that the dragon was cocky. Returning to its full size, it stood up straight and beckoned her with its talons, urging her to take the initiative. And so she did. Ripping open another portal, she teleported to its nest and prodded its eggs with her feet. The colour surely would have drained from the oversized lizard’s face had said face still existed. It immediately rushed over, running comically with its limbs filing all over in its panic, only for Cire to step back through the gate and stick out her forked tongue.

  Of course, the dragon was less entertained. Huffing and puffing from its non-existent lungs, it took on a humanoid form whilst wreathing its body in magic. Crafting another yer of circuits, it warped the surging mana into a cloak of wind. Covering the dragon’s bones, the verdant energy became a yer of false flesh. Upon its completion, the storm was further enhanced by a fming dress, a beautiful strapless A-line that accented her fabricated proportions.

  She was an older woman, close to a human in her te forties. Even through her magic, her wrinkles were immediately apparent, but not at all to her detriment. She had aged like a fine wine; the folds in her skin only accentuated her beauty, enhancing it and providing it with a fvour that no younger woman could have possibly embodied.

  Not counting her horns, the curvy, buxom dragoness was more than a full head taller than the halfbreed, with much of it stemming from the length of her legs. Her tail was shorter and thicker than Cire’s, and her cws were much bulkier. Wreathed in the same fire as her dress, they were girthy and vicious, easily capable of tearing a man in two.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but Cire had already closed the distance between them. She drove Boris, who she had turned into a dagger, straight through the dragoness’ throat, only to find it stopped.

  There was a loud scraping sound as the weapon’s edge was deflected by a patch of scale.

  Though it was made of mana, the former skeleton’s body was not without substance.

  Cire sensed the impending danger. A quick gnce at the dragoness’ eyes sufficed to inform her that there was an attack inbound. It was aimed at the pit of her stomach, the fleshiest and most vulnerable part of her body. And she couldn’t evade it. The arm was moving too quickly. She’d never be able to open a portal in time.

  But by spinning her body, spping the dragoness’ limb with her tail, and further pushing with a vector, she was able to redirect it. It flew up the length of her ribs and over one of her shoulders. Her armour, her clothes, and her skin, all of it was ripped apart by the storm that was the dragon’s cw.

  The accompanying fire should have healed her, or at least had little effect, but it only added to the violence. The briefest moment of contact had shredded her flesh to bits.

  Another identical attack followed, led by the dragon’s other hand, but Cire wasn’t about to be caught twice. Stealing the momentum from the cw strike, she sent herself catapulting into the air.

  She traced the fresh wounds with the opposite hand and sealed them with a yer of true ice before transforming Boris into a giant axe and unching into a spinning smash. The attack was more polished than the time she used it on the giant mushroom, and more importantly, backed by far more brute strength.

  And yet, it was blocked, easily deflected by the swipe of the cws. At most, she had managed to chip one of the talons, but the accompanying crack was fixed as quickly as it was made—a fact that hadn’t held true for Boris. He took a fair bit of damage on impact, and the continued contact was slowly rotting his bde. Even cloaked in her mana, he couldn’t hold up when faced with the concept of destruction.

  Flicking her tongue, Cire backed off before the dragon could counter and escaped into a portal that led to the edge of the crater. The dragon charged immediately, but she grabbed its limbs with her vectors and sent it plummeting into the ground. She pressed down on it after it fell, crushing it with raw gravitational force, but unsurprisingly, she found that it wasn’t so easily suppressed. The monster soon rose to its feet and roared, even though its weight had been increased by well over a factor of a thousand.

  It unched into another attack, but Cire opened a couple of portals in advance and sent its cws straight into its own back. She watched carefully as both its wings and its talons were destroyed and rebuilt, only to teleport away again whilst commanding a nearby Boris to open its mouth.

  Grabbing the tube within, she ripped the cork out with her teeth and dumped its gloopy red contents down her throat. She hated its overly sweet fvour, but just as expected of one of Alfred’s concoctions, its effect was immediately apparent. Her whole body grew colder, calmer, as her circuits were brought back to life.

  She had only five of the stabilizers on hand, four now that she had committed one. They were precious resources, key items she dared not find herself without. As, the exchanges had confirmed the need. She probably wasn’t besting the dragoness without them.

  And surely enough, her moose senses kicked in as soon as her circuits were temporarily restored, finally ascertaining that her foe could fall to her bde.

  The first thing she did was emute its magic.

  She copied the formu almost exactly, subbing out the parts that invoked wind and fire for a series of characters that crafted true ice.

  It wasn’t quite perfect, but it worked on the first try; a thick yer of true ice coated her talons and her lizard in turn, enchanting both with the destructive property innate to dragonkind. Looking at the result with her eyes filled with divinity, she found her version to be less powerful. But it only made sense. She had stolen a number of draconic features during her st two ascensions, but she had shied away from becoming Builledracht’s kin.

  But in the end, the difference was negligible. Sprouting a pair of giant, ice-blue wings, Cire crossed the crater with a burst of speed and rammed her lizard into the dragoness’ cws. Neither her sword nor her talons took any damage from the csh; the true ice easily made up for the difference wrought by the purity of their blood. If anything, the advantage was hers; the strike had left a faint streak of ice amidst the dragon’s fire.

  Pressing forward, Cire unched into a flurry of blows. The dragon tried to defend, but she pushed its talons away and warped its counters straight into its joints. Being only a little faster than her, it had no way to fight back against her shapeshifting, physics-defying barrage. She could have easily ended the fight then and there by simply draining the dragon’s magic, but Cire allowed it to struggle.

  She had five minutes to unleash her magic as she wished. She wasn’t about to let the battle end before even one had passed.

  Backing away, the dragon prepared a fiery breath—a breath Cire matched with one of her own. She began as usual, by digging her feet into the ground and sucking in two lungfuls of air. But rather than simply engaging the spell, as she had on every occasion, she carried forward the dragon’s behaviour.

  She didn’t copy it exactly. She wasn’t quite good enough at maniputing her divinity to forge a fresh set of circuits—not that she had any intention of truly using her divinity in the first pce—but she was able to rearrange and reinforce what she had. One look had already informed her. The circuits that dragons used for their breath were configured differently from the generic circuits that she had all over her body. They had several extra yers of protection, and they were wired more loosely, using stacked yers instead of hyperfocusing on the efficiency of each.

  The magical formu she used was likewise tweaked, adjusted ever so slightly from the usual circuit. All of the optimizations and changes more than halved the amount of mana she spent, bringing the total cost down to about a quarter million. And yet, the result was a stark improvement. The breath she unleashed was not the usual mist, but a bst of raw magical power.

  But perhaps because it was her first attempt, it was still cking in substance. The dragoness’ breath blew hers away, forcing her to step out of the way.

  Round two, she performed a little bit better. By tweaking the formu and supplying a little more magic, her breath was able to hold for a few moments before scattering to the winds.

  And then with her third, she finally nailed it.

  She produced a jet of heavy, cold air that carried all of the usual properties and met the dragoness in a stalemate. Still, she modified it even further. Attempts four, five, and six all ended in unstable failures, but her seventh produced something that more closely resembled an arcane pulse than a regur breath.

  It was an all consuming frost ray that instantly froze everything in its path, including the dragon she had learned from.

  Cire immediately prepared a follow-up. She filled a nearby Boris with three million points of mana and rebuilt half his body with true ice. Holding him between her fingers, she dug her feet into the ground and prepared to hurl him.

  She was ready for round two, ready to guzzle another stabilizer and draw out the dragoness’ full strength.

  But her target had already crumbled to dust.

  Log Entry 918995

  You have sin a level 1498 Zephine Dragon Matriarch.

  This feat has earned you the following bonus rewards:

  - 1209 points of agility

  - 490 points of dexterity

  - 577 points of spirit

  - 200 points of strength

  - 95 points of vitality

  - 3815 points of wisdom

  Log Entry 918996

  You have leveled up.

  Your titur css, Witch of the Seventh Tempest, has reached level 107.

  You have gained 2000 ability points.

  Cire blinked.

  She hadn’t expected the dragon to die so easily or give so little. She was half prepared for it to burst out of the statue and charge her, rather than simply disintegrating. Its level was equally disappointing. She was starting to suspect that she had tricked herself into thinking that there was a challenge to be had, and that she had effectively wasted one of Alfred’s stabilizers on nothing.

  Or at least, that was what she thought before she started towards the eggs.

  The world started to shake again, but not because they were going back in time again.

  No.

  It was because of the raw magic that had suddenly filled the air.

  Turning towards its source, she found a whole flight of dragons, led by a furious young male with a chain-link tail. If the unique feature didn’t give him away, then his dark scales and his rampant divinity certainly would have filled the gaps.

  She knew he was just a shade born of the dungeon, a pale copy that held but a fraction of his power.

  But even then, his presence was crushing.

  For his name was Builledracht.

  And though not yet the god of curses, his aura made it clear.

  Even in his youth, he had always been almighty.