Chapter 718

Nidhogg, with a roar filled with malice, flapped its wings and soared into the void, targeting the three who had escaped its breath.

Damien, Ferne, and Floheta. Compared to its massive body, they were mere insects, yet they were threats that couldn’t be ignored.

Their attacks had the power to pierce its armor and leave wounds.

Especially Damien’s strikes, which weren’t just superficial wounds but could dig into the dragon’s skeleton, causing irreparable damage.

So, it decided to kill them.

Nidhogg vibrated its thin wings fiercely, accelerating its charge like an unstoppable tidal wave.

—

A human, a fairy, and a spirit entangled with the dragon in the skies of the capital, turning the heavens into a battlefield. Fire, lightning, and storms raged, painting the void, while a straight line of black flame erased everything, piercing through the clouds.

It was a terrifying sight, more horrifying than majestic.

“Somehow, maintain a higher altitude than it. Make sure its breath targets us, not the capital,” said Ferne, riding a translucent eagle and continuously firing spirit arrows, glancing back at Floheta and Damien, who were riding her spirit.

She pointed downward, indicating the trail of flames left by Nidhogg’s breath as it scorched the capital.

Nidhogg’s breath, like the legendary dragons of old, boasted immense firepower, enough to create a massive pool of lava in the middle of the city.

Even with Lacey’s divine barrier absorbing most of the impact, the thought of that flame hitting the capital directly was unimaginable.

Floheta and Damien could guess as well. If the dragon were to fly around, breathing fire downward, Exra-shapel would be annihilated in less than ten minutes.

So, the three of them had to keep the dragon’s attention fixed on the sky, preventing it from turning its breath toward the capital.

Unless they wanted to watch the capital melt away like a summer ice dessert.

“…Offensive magic is almost meaningless. Most of it gets intercepted, and even if it hits, the miasma weakens its power,” Floheta muttered, wiping the sweat from her brow with her sleeve and biting her lip.

Her magic could only damage the dragon’s armor slightly, far from delivering a decisive blow.

The sheer difference in power output, coupled with the miasma’s advantage over mana, made her spells almost useless.

The dense miasma armor covering Nidhogg’s body scattered her magical energy, greatly reducing its effectiveness.

A spell powerful enough to turn iron into powder couldn’t even break a rock.

“And… that’s not the only problem,” Floheta continued in a somber tone. There was an even more significant issue than her magic being ineffective.

“What now?” asked Damien.

“You’ve probably guessed it already… that dragon is learning and mimicking our magical formulas,” Floheta explained.

At first, she thought it was a mistake, but now she was certain.

Despite using miasma instead of mana, Nidhogg’s attacks had started to resemble the spells of high-level magicians like her.

It was unmistakable. The dragon was learning the principles, formulas, and effects of magic by experiencing it firsthand.

‘It’s only mimicking the phenomena for now, not yet capable of freely applying the formulas…’

But that alone was enough to make Floheta grit her teeth.

“This means the more we attack with magic, the stronger the enemy becomes,” she said, realizing that her power wasn’t just useless—it was actively benefiting the enemy.

“Then… stick to the spells we’ve already used, focus on interception and defense. Damien and I will handle the attacks. And, since you’re heavy, get off. You can fly on your own, right?” Ferne gave a quick order, then shook Floheta off the wind spirit’s back.

Unlike Damien, who could only manage a few aerial jumps, Floheta could float using levitation magic, so there was no need to slow down the spirit by carrying her.

“Wait, levitation magic isn’t that convenient…!” Floheta protested, but before she could finish, she was flung off. She hurriedly gathered her mana to stop her fall with levitation magic.

“…Is that okay? She’s the Tower Master of the Empire,” Damien said, concerned.

“Do I care about her status? If she has a problem, tell her to come back after living another four hundred years,” Ferne snapped, not even looking at Floheta as she drew her bowstring.

“Uh, Senior, are you over four hundred? Should I call you Grandma then…?” Damien asked nervously.

“…Should I drop you too?”

“No.”

Ferne glared at Damien, her eyes filled with intense emotion, reminiscent of Hashal’s gaze. Damien quickly shook his head, realizing he shouldn’t push his luck.

He was just trying to show respect to his elders, but he couldn’t understand why Ferne was so irritable.

Still, he knew better than to nod or say anything more in this tense atmosphere.

Damien had enough sense for that.

The sense that Hashal’s fists had taught him.

“Then shut up and fight!” Ferne barked at Damien, then accelerated the spirit she was riding to get closer to the dragon.

As much as she wanted to keep her distance, she had no other choice.

Despite being an unreliable human, Damien was the only one among the three who could deal significant damage to the dragon with his greatsword.

—

Another ten minutes passed.

Floheta flew through the void, focusing on neutralizing the dragon’s magic, while Ferne repeatedly threw and caught Damien, exhausting all the lesser spirits connected to her as she fired spirit arrows.

‘…We can’t win.’

Those ten minutes of fighting only solidified Ferne’s sense of impending defeat.

Floheta’s mana was running low as she maintained levitation magic while casting high-level spells, and Ferne had no more lesser spirits left to use for spirit arrows.

Attacking the dragon directly with wind spirits was out of the question—the difference in size was too overwhelming.

Even the dragon-slaying crossbows from the ground were no longer effective.

Nidhogg, pierced by the crossbow barrage, had roared in fury and rammed a section of the city wall with its body.

A physical assault that the three of them couldn’t hope to stop.

Half of the dragon-slaying crossbows were destroyed, and a section of Exra-shapel’s triple-layered walls crumbled into rubble.

Immediately after, the dragon’s breath vaporized a quarter of the capital, along with the knights fighting the specters there.

There was no chance of victory.

No, not just victory—even holding out was becoming increasingly difficult.

‘…Should we retreat?’

Floheta cautiously considered retreating. There was no point in continuing the fight.

Less than an hour after the dragon appeared, despite fighting with all their might to stop it, half of the capital had already turned into a sea of lava.

It was clear that the other half would melt away even faster.

Floheta, too, seemed to be starting to worry about her life, conserving her mana and keeping her distance, ready to flee at any moment.

But they couldn’t just run away. Because of the two men who were fighting as if retreat wasn’t even an option.

“Get up! Get up and fight! What’s at stake isn’t just your lives. The fate of the Empire—no, all of humanity—rests in your hands!” Leopold shouted, covered in dust, holding a dragon-slaying crossbow and firing arrows.

Because he was still fighting, Floheta couldn’t just run away.

If she had been a mere magician and he a prince, it might have been different, but as the Tower Master, fleeing and abandoning the Emperor would make it impossible to survive anywhere.

“This is nothing compared to sparring with Hashal…!” Ferne also couldn’t retreat.

She honestly didn’t care about the Emperor or anything else… but perhaps because her fear had been suppressed, she couldn’t leave Damien, who was riding the dragon’s back and swinging his greatsword.

Not because she cared for Damien, but because if she abandoned him, there was a high chance that Hashal, their most important ally, would turn against them.

Though she didn’t show it openly, Hashal had an oddly intense interest in and obsession with Damien.

It wasn’t romantic or familial—it was more like a swordsman’s obsession with a legendary blade.

In any case, that’s why Ferne couldn’t retreat recklessly.