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TWL Chapter 344: Keltullis Falls, But Not For Long
🕑 Added 2025-03-29 02:53:49 +0000 UTCIt was as if a small glacier had materialized out of nowhere.
Brilliant emerald light flickered and dissipated, almost poetic in its elegance. Beneath it, the exposed muscles gleamed like chiseled marble, solid and translucent with an icy hue.
However, when that muscle was the size of a person, it was no longer elegant—it was terrifying.
The Ice Giant had been fully restored by Lann’s system, every internal and external wound completely healed. The druids had even cleaned him up with magic, leaving his sculpted form looking like a masterpiece of raw power.
And with his pose—back arched like a drawn bow, fists raised high overhead, and a thunderous war cry erupting from his mouth—the scene turned from artistic beauty to brutal magnificence.
If the great poet Dandelion had been present, he would have burst into song on the spot. If Iris had been there, she would have immediately started sketching a painting.
But for Keltullis, there was only enough time for one panicked exclamation: "That’s a—"
"MY GOD!!"
[BOOM—CRASH!!!]
The massive fist slammed directly into Keltullis’ forehead.
Kolgrim, still retreating from the battlefield, heard a sound like a mountain collapsing behind him. A second later, the very ground trembled beneath his feet, and chunks of rock and ice tumbled from the cliffs.
That roar—he knew it too well.
"Run! Just keep running!" Kolgrim barked, swiftly kicking a young dwarf who had foolishly turned back in curiosity, frozen in place.
"This fight is way out of our league. Run as fast as you can! Just run!"
…
Amidst the icy dust, the Ice Giant slowly rose to its feet. A sudden storm swept across Mahakam in early spring, as if the snow had found its rightful master, swirling around the giant and mirroring its every movement.
With each thunderous step, the ground trembled like an earthquake. The blow it had struck from above could have reduced a castle to rubble—let alone the flesh and blood of Keltullis, the red dragon.
The tyrant that had ruled the Mahakam Mountains for centuries now lay pitifully embedded in the ice. Its claws twitched, its tail lay limp, and its head lolled to one side, completely unconscious. Any trace of its former majesty as an apex predator had vanished.
But this wasn’t enough.
The Ice Giant’s violent nature wouldn’t be satisfied with just this. It stomped forward, planting one massive hand on Keltullis’s neck. The other hand curled into a fist the size of a battering ram and raised it high above its head before—
[Boom!]
[Boom!]
[Boom!]
With each strike, cracks splintered outward from Keltullis’s body. With each strike, the dragon jolted awake in agony—only to be knocked out again by the next.
Brick-red scales shattered. The crown-like horns adorning its head snapped, jagged edges stabbing into its own flesh. Precious dragon blood spilled like it was worthless.
"My, God!"
After a few more punches, the Ice Giant grew even more excited. There were dragons in Skellige, but none this big—and none that felt this satisfying to beat down.
Lost in the thrill of battle, the giant grabbed the red dragon’s jaws and wrenched them open with both hands, letting out a triumphant roar.
"My, God!!"
But the next moment, a firelight lit up the Ice Giant’s face. Deep in Keltullis’s throat, flames churned, ready to erupt like a waking volcano.
Keltullis had been playing dead.
Red dragons were far smarter than Ice Giants. They knew how to rule with brute strength, but they also knew when to endure humiliation and strike at the perfect moment.
Ever since that crushing blow to the skull, Keltullis had been waiting for a chance. The Ice Giant was physically powerful, but it lacked the natural armor of dragon scales—especially against fire.
Luckily, the Ice Giant wasn’t fighting alone.
A flash of golden light, and Lann appeared on the giant’s shoulder. With a swift gesture, he formed a sign with his left hand and shoved his entire forearm into the dragon’s maw.
A frigid blast exploded forth.
[Aard Sign - Piercing Cold - Magic Burst!]
A deafening explosion followed. Sparks fell onto the Ice Giant’s beard and fur-lined mantle, igniting them.
Had Keltullis not been already gravely wounded—or still gathering its breath—Lann’s counter wouldn’t have stopped the ambush so completely. The Ice Giant would’ve been in serious trouble.
Lann quickly used another sign to snuff out the flames, then, annoyed, kicked the giant in the head.
"Where the hell’s that druid staff magic of yours?! Where’s that battle prowess and strategy you had when we first fought?! Have you become more foolish since you entered into a contract with me?!"
"You absorbed the power and wisdom of a damn mana source! Use your brain when you fight, got it? Think!"
The Ice Giant, unfazed by the kick, awkwardly tried to scratch its head but hesitated—afraid of accidentally knocking Lann off its shoulder. Instead, it stiffly pointed in a certain direction.
"My God…"
Its voice even carried a hint of grievance.
Lann followed the gesture and saw the red dragon already airborne, its wings beating weakly as it wobbled away, leaving a trail of blood in the sky.
"My God?"
Lann measured the distance between them, then sighed. "Forget it. Let it go."
A red dragon wasn’t some mindless Draconid. Once in the air, even wounded, Lann wasn’t confident he could bring it down.
"Besides, red dragons are intelligent. There might be room for negotiation later. Killing it outright isn’t the smartest play." He shook his head. "Come on, let’s check on Kolgrim and the others.
…
Both the young dwarves of the Ferenc Clan and the Scoia’tael dwarves cowered behind rocks, trembling like frightened quails as the distant tremors echoed around them.
As they silently prayed for their safety, a single thought ran through their minds—Since when did Mahakam have monsters like this?!
Meanwhile, the soldiers of Cintra, upon feeling the vibrations, exchanged excited glances before rushing forward to welcome their victorious duke.
"Duke Lann!"
A flash of golden light, and Lann materialized before his retainers and knights, returning their salutes. Kolgrim nodded at Lann before turning his gaze to the towering Ice Giant. Watching the hulking creature stand firm in the howling wind, he couldn’t help but marvel.
"Having this beast as an ally… that’s a damn good feeling."
Lann turned toward the trembling figures behind the rocks and shook his head.
"Come out. I’m their leader. I just arrived at the Ferenc Clan’s request to bring you home."
"Your parents have been waiting for you at the edge of the Hag's Pit for five days now, hoping you’d return. No matter what you plan to do next, you owe it to them to at least show your face. After everything you’ve been through, I figured you’d understand how important family is."
The young dwarves of the Ferenc Clan could no longer stay hidden. Cautiously, they emerged from their shelters, doing their best to keep as much distance from the Ice Giant as possible before bowing deeply to Lann—an etiquette they had clearly picked up from human society.
"My lord, thank you for saving us from Keltullis’s claws!" a braver dwarf youth called out. "We’ll go home right away!"
Lann nodded in approval.
Then, he turned his gaze toward the Scoia’tael.
With the Ferenc Clan’s youth stepping forward, the Scoia’tael could no longer stay hidden either. Unlike the grateful young dwarves, they stood there awkwardly—too ashamed to run, yet too reluctant to speak.
"As for you lot…" Lann paused, then looked to Kolgrim. "During that earlier dispute, did anyone draw weapons?"
"No! Absolutely not!" The Scoia’tael leader couldn’t hold back anymore, frantically waving his hands. "We would never—"
Lann cut him off coldly. "Did I ask you?"
The voice wasn’t loud, but it carried the bite of an icy wind, freezing the Scoia’tael leader in place. He couldn’t utter another word.
Kolgrim, now completely at ease, leaned against the Ice Giant’s leg with a lazy smirk. “No one drew their weapons. Even the Scoia’tael have their own laws in Mahakam—killing them would’ve been more trouble than it’s worth.”
Especially with the young dwarves of the Ferenc Clan as witnesses. Not like they could just get rid of them too.
“As for these guys…” Kolgrim’s grin widened.
But before he could say another word—before the Scoia’tael, already tense and uneasy, could hear their fate—one of the young dwarves suddenly pointed to the sky and yelled.
“Wait! Is that Keltullis?!”
The red dragon was already a distant speck, flying high. But it was impossible to miss—especially when, for some inexplicable reason, it suddenly belched a jet of fire midair, a bright beacon against the sky.
Then, it began to descend. Slowly, deliberately. It had reached its destination.
The young dwarves of the Ferenc Clan went pale. Horror crept across their faces.
“That’s not the red dragon’s lair. That’s our town! Keltullis is landing in the Hag's Pit!”
As the last word left his lips, the dragon disappeared behind the distant mountain peaks.
Panic set in. The young dwarves of Ferenc wailed, their cries rising in alarm.
