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TWL Chapter 328: A Knight’s Fire, a Drake’s Demise
🕑 Added 2025-03-23 18:23:02 +0000 UTCThe Zigrin clan dwarves, who had just tumbled across the ground like rolling barrels, staggered to their feet, still dazed. One of them instinctively bellowed, “This is a dwarven fight! No damned human has any business interfering! And who the hell are you anyway?”
The dwarf Blackwind had just saved was finally hauled upright by his clanmates. He wasted no time snapping back, “You brainless Zigrin! If it weren’t for this knight, we’d all be dead! Shut up and do what he says!”
Not far off, Gabor let loose a string of curses. “For fuck’s sake, show some damn respect, Fuchs! And you, Kuba, we need to back off! Duke Lannister is the Elder in Chief’s guest—and right now, he’s the only one who can take down that thrice-damned drake!”
The dwarf named Kuba was clearly the leader of the Zigrin clan's warband, and he was irascible and never flinched. He snapped, “Gabor! Now you’re siding with humans? And worse yet, you support those bastards from the Fuchs clan? No self-respecting dwarf would—”
Before he could finish, the drake—perhaps drawn by his shouting—suddenly flared its wings, kicking up a powerful gust as it hurtled toward him.
Dwarves who had just gotten back on their feet were sent flying once more. When the drake was still fifteen paces away from Kuba, it abruptly twisted midair, lashing its venomous tail at him.
Kuba’s blood ran cold.
In that instant, golden light flared before his eyes.
The Archgriffin-cloaked knight was already there, wreathed in frost and fury, both hands raising his rune longsword above his head.
The drake's tail cracked through the air like a whip, at the same time the blade of the rune sword shone like a torch.
With a deafening roar, the drake's tail impacted against the golden energy film covering Lann, and the next moment it suddenly detonated. The force from [Exploding Shield] sent him hurtling backward, but he twisted midair, landing smoothly with practiced precision. His sharp gaze locked onto the results of his counterattack.
A blood curdling shriek tore through the battlefield.
The drake’s venomous tail had been severed clean, crashing to the ground with a wet, meaty thud. Blood gushed like a broken dam, staining the once-pristine snow in a spreading pool of crimson.
Not only had the Lady of the Lake’s Sword, enhanced with an extended invisible edge, cleaved straight through the tail—it had nearly severed one of the beast’s hind legs as well.
The drake seemed to finally grasp the gravity of its mistake. It flailed its wings, desperate to escape. Although without its tail, the drake lost its balance as it took flight, and as it wobbled, it rose into the sky.
Lann made no move to stop it. His eyes remained locked on the severed tail at his feet.
“…That’s what injured Blackwind.” Then he looked up. “…And that throat. The one that tried to burn him alive.”
Kuba, still trembling from nearly being turned into paste, swallowed hard and instinctively took two steps away from Lann.
Then, without hesitation, he spun on his stubby legs, practically windmilling his arms as he bolted toward his troops, shouting at the top of his lungs: “Regroup! All of you, fall back and stop the Shaelmaars! Leave the drake to this human—no, to the Elder in Chief’s guest!”
…..
The drake wobbled in midair, trailing a string of blood droplets from its hindquarters. This was the worst wound it had suffered since the day it was born.
Flapping its wings, it still believed it could escape by taking to the sky. After all, in its years of hunting, it had learned that these little iron-clad creatures were powerless against the rulers of the heavens. Their wooden spikes had never stood a chance of piercing its scales.
But in the next moment, the drake suddenly felt a weight slam onto its back. With its keen hearing, it caught a familiar voice.
“…Where do you think you’re going?”
Before the drake could fly any farther, Lann activated [Blink], appearing midair right above it. After a brief moment of free fall, he crashed onto the beast’s back with brutal force.
Even without a bow, Lann now had the upper hand in low-altitude aerial combat.
The drake let out a sharp, harpy-like screech, panicked by the unexpected attack. It twisted and rolled clumsily in the air, trying to shake Lann off. But with its tail severed, its agility had plummeted, leaving it with few means of counterattack. It could only thrash its body and swipe its claws in vain.
Lann didn’t give it the chance. He activated [Blink] again.
Golden light flashed, and this time, he reappeared right in front of the drake.
His left hand opened, fingers forming a precise sign. Fire began to build in his palm.
[Igni Sign - Pyromaniac!]
The drake, a creature that relished incinerating its prey, was now engulfed in flames for the first time. It let out a piercing scream. The fire wasn’t hot enough to be fatal, and Pyromaniac’s 40% ignition chance hadn’t immediately turned the drake into a living torch.
But for a creature that relied on flight, it no longer had the strength to stay airborne.
Lann's ability to stay airborne was limited. After unleashing the fiery cone, he began to fall uncontrollably. But it didn’t matter—another flash of golden light, and he repositioned himself slightly above the drake once more, forming another sign.
…
Meanwhile, Blackwind’s injuries had already healed considerably thanks to the potions. Still, knowing how much Lann valued his horse, Geralt had guided the steed to the edge of the battlefield. With nothing else to do, Blackwind watched the Cintrans, and dwarves join forces against the Shaelmaars.
Then, a disturbance in the sky caught the stallion’s attention. His ears pricked up in excitement, and he let out a sharp snort.
His amber slit-pupil eyes reflected the scene above:
A golden streak of light wove around a drake tumbling through the air. That light moved effortlessly—flashing over the beast’s head, ribs, back, and chest in rapid succession. Lann's figure appeared from time to time in the flash of light, and each time it was accompanied by a cone of burning flames.
Gold and flame intertwined, blood rained from the sky, and for a moment, Blackwind found the sight… breathtaking.
But more than that, he saw what his master was doing. Lann wasn’t just attacking—he was adjusting his descent angle, using the fire’s force to steer the drake.
He was driving it back toward the battlefield.
"Hnnnnnghhhhh!"
The stallion reared up and let out a triumphant cry.
Then, it charged.
Its hooves thundered across the battlefield as it tore through half the war zone in an instant. Then—it leapt.
The dwarves, locked in combat, barely had time to react. A black shadow passed overhead, momentarily blocking the sunlight. When they looked up, they saw a stallion soaring through the air—so high, it could have cleared the walls of a fortress.
And at the perfect moment, Blackwind collided with the falling drake.
A sickening crack rang out as the drake’s chest caved in from the impact, its body folding inward at a brutal angle. At the same time, its flesh, now fuel for the raging flames, ignited from the inside out, turning it into a burning projectile.
And where did it land?
Right in the middle of the Shaelmaars ranks—exactly where Blackwind had intended.
With a thunderous crash, the drake slammed into the ground. The brutal impact, the force of the landing, and the relentless searing heat left it momentarily unable to even scream.
But it wasn’t over.
A rolling boulder—a Shaelmaar—rumbled over its body, crushing what little remained. Then came a second. A third. These subterranean creatures had originally been charging toward the Cintrans and dwarven defensive lines.
A sickening crunch filled the air. Bones shattered, scales split apart, and jagged fragments buried themselves deep into the beast’s flesh.
Still, it wasn’t over.
A flash of golden light.
Lann appeared at the very front of the line.
The lion-eyed Witcher took a deep breath and raised his left hand, fingers forming a precise sign. This time, there were no allies ahead—only monsters. He could unleash his power without restraint.
[Igni Sign—Magic Burst]!
For a moment, the dwarves lost themselves in the scene. It felt as if they weren’t on the snowy battlefield anymore, but deep within the forges beneath the mountains, as if a massive smelting furnace, fed by rivers of magma, had risen around them, scorching the very moisture from their bodies.
Flames engulfed everything in sight. One breath. Five breaths. Ten. The dwarves could barely stand it—panting like hounds, tongues lolling, desperate for even a wisp of cold mountain air.
Fortunately, Lann finally felt that was enough for now and withdrew his left hand.
The mining site had been carefully cleared of flammable materials—no trees, no dry grass—yet the fire did not discriminate. Shaelmaars and drake alike spewed flames from every orifice, their bodies igniting from within. Even the stone and snow, things that should never burn, now flickered with eerie tongues of fire.
The monsters’ screams weakened, fading into nothing. Snow melted, revealing scorched black rock beneath.
A thick white mist rose from the ground, only to be swallowed by the dense black smoke spreading across the battlefield.
The dwarves watched as the human warrior turned amid the flames and dying creatures. His gaze swept over them, searching, likely looking for the leader of the dwarven clans.
Blackwind trotted up happily, pressing its muzzle against Lann’s cheek.
Lann let out a quiet chuckle and stroked the stallion’s mane before turning to the dwarves with an easy, polite smile.
“So, tell me…”
Among the crowd, two dwarves—each from opposing clans, sworn enemies—gulped in perfect unison. Without a word, without even glancing at each other, they both took a cautious step backward.
