Chapter 53: The Dragon Slaying Campaign (6)

Kyle’s command rippled outward like a shockwave.

Every monster in his skill’s range felt it—an instinctive pull toward the massive red dragon. Their small minds couldn’t process it as orders.

They felt it as hunger. Predation. The overwhelming need to attack the largest, strongest prey in their territory.

The basalt crawlers stopped their advance on the secondary team. Their many legs twitched, reorienting.

The valley hawks that had been circling dropped from the sky like stones, wings folding tight as they dove toward the dragon.

The dragon’s golden eyes narrowed.

It felt them coming—dozens of small predators, all moving toward it now. Its jaws snapped reflexively, and a low rumble vibrated through its chest.

But it didn’t retreat. Not yet.

Kyle’s eyes were still flaring crimson as he watched the first wave arrive—a basalt crawler scrambling up the dragon’s leg. Its claws scraped against scales, trying to find purchase.

The dragon shook its head violently. The crawler flew off, claws scraping stone as it tumbled.

Another came immediately after. Then another. The dragon’s tail whipped, crushing several under its weight. It snapped at the valley hawks, jaws closing on air as they circled.

But they kept coming—too many to stop. The dragon’s wounds were fresh, its wing joints stiff and slow. Every movement cost something.

It roared again—not in rage this time, but in frustration.

It was natural for the monsters to gather on one side of the battle, but what was surprising was that they gathered around the dragon! This was not supposed to happen.

The dragon’s overwhelming aura should have made all the monsters stay away from it and attack the other side, no matter how badly it was wounded or injured—that was the monster’s natural instinct.

Kyle’s grip on Fear Blade tightened.

He could feel the blood on it still—hot and slick against his palm. The red veins along the blade’s edge pulsed faintly in his peripheral vision.

Mira was still kneeling beside Weston. Leo stood over them like a wall. Alara’s hands were clenched into fists, her face tight with fury and helplessness in the face of this huge red dragon.

Kyle didn’t look at them for long. If he did, the anger would turn reckless.

So he forced it down—compressed it into something quieter, colder. Something that could be used.

The dragon was still too far. Too far for his skill to touch.

But the monsters weren’t.

They were everywhere around the valley’s edges—crawling out of cracks, bursting from side caves, diving low. And every time one came close enough, Kyle’s mind reached out.

Not to control them like puppets, but to aim them.

A basalt crawler skittered out from behind a broken rock spur, angling toward Mira and Weston.

Kyle stepped into its path, not even drawing attention. One quick slash across its underside seam—just enough for blood to bead.

The dagger’s red veins pulsed.

And Kyle’s command slid in like a whisper the creature couldn’t ignore.

`Ignore the humans. Climb the dragon’s left wing and bite until you die.`

The crawler jerked mid-step, then abruptly turned away from Mira like she didn’t exist, sprinting toward the center of the valley with a wet scrape of legs.

Another valley hawk swooped low, too close—close enough that Kyle felt the edge of its panic and hunger collide.

He didn’t chase it. He let it come.

When it passed over the rocks, Kyle’s eyes flared crimson again.

`Go for its eyes. Tear. Blind it. Don’t retreat.`

The hawk’s wings stuttered once—then it screamed and dove straight toward the dragon’s face like it had gone mad.

Kyle exhaled sharply through his nose.

Some monsters were weak enough for Kyle to control them without any trouble, but some were too strong to be commanded so easily.

For this reason, Kyle needed to destabilize their minds with Fear Blade and then order them.

He couldn’t change the orders or add other orders once they left his range. So he gave them a lot of orders at once so that he wouldn’t encounter any problems.

He guided them precisely.

Wing joints, eyes, throat, hind legs. Anything that would slow it, stagger it, distract it—anything that would keep it from turning back to finish the secondary team.

And it worked.

The first wave struck like a meteor.

Basalt crawlers latched onto the dragon’s foreleg seams, claws scraping, bodies crushed, replaced by more.

Valley hawks dove in packs at its face, shrieking, pecking, raking at the thin membranes near its eyes and nostrils.

The dragon’s head snapped left and right, biting air, trying to catch the fast ones.

Its tail swung and pulverized a cluster of crawlers—then another crawler climbed onto the tail.

Its claws slammed down and cracked rock—then a hawk drove itself into the joint behind that claw, frantic, obedient, suicidal.

For a moment, the dragon looked less like a king of the mountains and more like a wounded apex predator being swarmed by everything that wanted it dead.

And across the valley, the primary team saw it.

Kaia’s eyes widened even as she loosed another arrow. "What the?"

Arthur stared, stunned. The heroic fire that had been in his expression earlier faltered into confusion. "Why are they...?"

The guildmaster didn’t ask the question out loud.

But his eyes narrowed.

He looked at the monsters. Then at the dragon. Then—briefly—toward the eastern flank, where the secondary team held their line.

His gaze lingered a heartbeat too long.

Kyle felt it like pressure on the back of his neck.

Then the guildmaster turned away.

Because a veteran didn’t waste a miracle by standing there confused.

He lifted his sword and barked orders that cut through the chaos. "Now! While it’s distracted!"

The team moved instantly.

The axe girl sprinted in and slammed her massive weapon into the dragon’s injured leg the moment it shifted weight, the blow timed with a crawler biting into the same joint. The dragon’s limb buckled half an inch—just enough.

Kaia’s arrows changed targets. No longer peppering the side—now burying themselves into damaged wing joints, forcing the dragon’s wings to twitch uselessly when it tried to lift.

Celestia raised her hands, veil fluttering, and a barrier flashed into existence—not around Arthur, not around herself—around the guildmaster’s approach line.

A thin wall of holy light that turned the dragon’s panic-fire into a sweeping wave that missed by a few meters instead of consuming the team.

Arthur tried to surge forward again, face burning with embarrassment and anger.

The guildmaster snapped without looking back. "Hold formation, hero."

Arthur froze—then gritted his teeth and obeyed.

The dragon roared, furious now, its breath burning the valley floor, trying to clear space.

But the space wouldn’t clear.

Not with monsters chewing at its ankles. Not with hawks clawing at its face.

Not with the short girl swinging an axe into the same wounded joint every time the dragon flinched.

Not with Kaia forcing its wings to stay half-ruined.

Not with Celestia keeping the team from turning into ash.

And not with the guildmaster moving like a blade being guided by experience.

He didn’t chase the head. He didn’t look for glory. He aimed at what mattered.

Tendons. Seams. Under-scale gaps. The places armor didn’t exist.

The dragon tried to lift again—failed. It tried to pivot—staggered. It tried to retreat toward the cave—only to find its path blocked by dozens of monsters.

On the eastern flank, Mira finally managed to drag Weston’s limp body farther back, her hands shaking as she pulled him by the shoulders.

"Leo, help me!" her voice cracked. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝓮𝒘𝙚𝙗𝒏𝙤𝙫𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝒐𝙢

Leo stepped back without turning his shield away from the valley, catching Weston under the arms and hauling him away like dead weight.

Weston didn’t speak. Didn’t even groan. His chest rose in shallow, ugly breaths, and the smell of burned cloth clung to him.

Alara moved with them, jaw tight. "Keep him alive."

Mira’s eyes were wet. "I’m trying!"

Kyle didn’t move toward them—not yet. Because if the dragon turned to them, there wouldn’t be a "keep him alive".

So he stayed where he could keep commanding the next wave.

Another crawler emerged. Another hawk dove low.

Kyle’s eyes flared crimson each time they crossed that invisible boundary.

One after another—their minds accepted the orders as instinct, and death as salvation.

And slowly... the dragon started to fail.

Its breathing became heavier, ragged. Its roars lost certainty. Its movements weren’t smooth anymore—just stubborn, angry attempts to refuse the fact that it was dying.

The guildmaster saw it too.

He changed stance—lower, tighter—and stepped in close.

The dragon lunged, jaws snapping, trying to crush him.

Celestia’s holy barrier flared again—just enough.

The guildmaster slid under the bite, and in the same motion drove his sword into the dragon’s chest seam—deep.

The dragon convulsed.

Its wings spasmed.

Its tail slammed once... then twice... then slowed.

The valley hawks scattered in confused spirals as the enormous body sagged.

The dragon’s molten eyes stared forward, unfocused now, as if trying to understand what had just happened.

Then its head dropped.

Stone trembled and dust rolled outward in a slow wave.

The red dragon with three hundred years of dominance... went still.