She hadn't expected Geralt to refuse her so resolutely, especially when she believed hope was right within reach.
She violently shook off Geralt's arm, her eyes filled with disappointment and anger, and turned her head away to avoid looking at him.
Just then, the Golden Dragon on the platform seemed to grow tired of the clamor below.
It flapped its massive golden wings several times. The resulting gale sent sand and stones flying, causing many people to lose their footing.
The dragon opened its maw, revealing dagger-like fangs, as a dazzling pale-orange light gathered deep in its throat.
"Roar!"
A scorching dragon breath, like liquid fire, surged forth and swept toward the ballista array the Dwarves were adjusting.
Despite its enormous size, the Golden Dragon displayed astonishing agility. With a few nimble loops and dives, it easily avoided several threatening yet linear giant bolts hastily fired by the Dwarves.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!!"
Deafening explosions and the splintering of wood rang out one after another.
Flames engulfed the sturdy wooden frames and metal components of the ballistae. Under the extreme heat of the dragon breath, they melted and twisted like wax, eventually collapsing into piles of smoldering charcoal and warped wreckage.
The dragon-hunting ballistae that the Dwarves had painstakingly constructed and transported at great cost were all destroyed in barely a dozen seconds.
The crowd instantly fell into chaos, scattering in panic, afraid of being caught in the dragon's flames.
After eliminating the most threatening long-range weapons, the Golden Dragon flapped its wings again and hovered in midair before the cave entrance.
Its cold, vertical pupils looked down upon the chaotic crowd. A low, raspy yet exceptionally clear voice echoed through the valley like rolling thunder.
"Greedy, cruel humans. Leave this place!"
As its words fell, the dragon inhaled deeply and unleashed its breath once more. This time, however, the flames were not aimed at any person or object.
Instead, it drew a blazing wall of fire several meters high, stretching from left to right across the valley entrance, completely cutting off the path for anyone attempting to approach the cave.
A wave of scorching heat washed over the crowd, forcing those at the front to retreat repeatedly.
"This is the final warning!"
The Golden Dragon's voice carried an unquestionable sense of finality—an ultimatum that allowed no negotiation.
Within the dragon-hunting party, a massive rift formed under the pressure of the dragon's power and warning, nearly plunging the group into outright turmoil.
Some were intimidated by its intelligence and terrifying strength. Their faces turned pale as thoughts of retreat surfaced in their minds.
"It—it can talk!" someone whispered in fear. "Its intelligence is far higher than a Green Dragon's! We can't defeat it. Let's get out of here!"
Others, however, were blinded by greed and wishful thinking. They shouted excitedly instead.
"So what if it's a Golden Dragon? No matter how powerful it is, there's only one!"
"Its scales! Its blood! Its eyes! Every part of it is priceless! It's worth risking our lives!"
Amid the chaos and heated dispute, a figure suddenly stepped forward.
It was the knight from Denesle—Eyck.
Clad in gleaming plate armor, he ignored the blazing wall of fire before him and spurred his horse forward.
His bravery—or perhaps recklessness—seemed to infect some of the Dwarves, who shouted and followed him through the wall of flames.
Eyck reined in his horse before the Golden Dragon and dismounted with a nimble motion.
With a sharp clank, he drew the steel sword from his waist and pointed the blade straight at the dragon, which had landed on the ground and was now watching him with apparent interest.
Gathering all his strength, Eyck shouted at the top of his lungs, "Evil Dragon! I, Eyck of Denesle!"
"By the honor of a knight, I challenge you to a sacred one-on-one duel!"
He then turned back and roared at the Dwarves who had followed him. "A knight's honor must not be tarnished! Dwarves, I will not allow you to interfere. Begone!"
Having said that, he didn't even wait for the Golden Dragon to accept—or reject—his one-sided "duel."
He charged forward, raising his steel sword high and launching what he believed to be a heroic assault.
Seeing this, the Golden Dragon tilted its massive head slightly. A flicker of human-like appreciation passed through its molten-gold pupils.
Its low voice rang out once more. "Human, your courage is commendable."
However, admiration did not mean mercy.
When Eyck was halfway through his charge, the Golden Dragon's thick, golden-scaled tail whipped out suddenly.
Smack!
The tail struck Eyck's chest plate with terrifying precision, as casually as if swatting a fly.
"Pugh!"
Eyck let out a short, agonized cry as he spat out a mouthful of blood. His steel sword flew from his grasp, vanishing who knew where.
His body was hurled backward like a projectile from a catapult, tracing a violent arc through the air.
He crashed directly into the group of Dwarves charging behind him.
"Ouch! Stupid human!"
"My bones!"
Limbs flailed in all directions as the Dwarves were sent tumbling by this unexpected "human cannonball," collapsing to the ground amid cries of pain.
As for Eyck himself, he slumped motionless among them, his head hanging low. His breastplate was visibly caved in, and he showed no sign of movement—his life or death unknown.
Almost at the same moment Eyck was sent flying, a scream rang out from within the crowd.
"Fire!"
"Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!"
Archers and crossbowmen who had been tensely waiting with weapons drawn released their strings and triggers almost instinctively.
In an instant, a dense barrage of arrows and bolts filled the air like a swarm of locusts, clattering noisily against the Golden Dragon's scales, wings, and head.
Yet the expected sight of shattered scales and spurting blood never came.
The arrows struck the dragon's golden scales and, aside from producing brief sparks, failed to leave even a white mark. They snapped helplessly and scattered across the ground.
The few spell attacks mixed in—fireballs, lightning bolts, and the like—burst like fireworks upon impact.
Aside from making small sections of the dragon's scales glow faintly, they accomplished nothing.
The Golden Dragon did not even bother to dodge. It merely shook its head slightly and let out a low, raspy chuckle filled with mockery.
The sound seemed to say: Is this all you've got? It's not even enough to tickle.
In an instant, the valley entrance—once filled with battle cries and chaos—fell into a deathly silence.
Only the crackling of flames remained, along with the heavy, trembling breaths of those struggling to suppress their fear.
The Dwarves and mercenaries alike were stunned speechless by the overwhelming disparity in power.
Karl gazed upon the scene that would have driven ordinary people into despair—the scattered forces, the burning wreckage, and the Golden Dragon that looked as though it had been cast from pure gold, utterly invincible.
Yet instead of despair, an eager expression appeared on his face.
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