"Commander! The Dragon from the South Foothills seems to be on a killing spree and is now closing in on our encirclement. Do I need to take some men to deal with it?"
A few kilometers away, the Elf aide-de-camp approached with a serious expression to make his report.
Yevgeny, the Commander of the High Elves, asked with some perplexity, "What about those Barbarians of the North?"
The aide-de-camp opened his mouth, then chose to report the truth. "...They've been routed by the Dragon, and now they're completely out of control. Some have even broken into our encirclement.
"It seems that our intelligence was mostly inaccurate. The Dragon that nearly annihilated the Rosinde hunting party half a month ago must be this Red Dragon."
Yevgeny's face was a picture of disbelief as she asked, "Wasn't it said to be just a passing young Red Dragon?"
Then a rush of anger at being deceived welled up, and she demanded, "No! With such crucial information, why did the surviving Rosinde not report it to us?"
Facing this question, which clearly showed Yevgeny had lost some of her calm, the aide-de-camp found it difficult but wisely chose to remain silent.
Yevgeny's expression faltered; she too had realized the problem. On that day, they also, for their own reasons, had chosen to give only partial information to the Rosinde clan. The greatly weakened Rosinde, driven by a retaliatory mentality, naturally had reason to make the same choice—that is, to remain silent about information that might trouble or even harm the High Elves.
Thinking this, Yevgeny lightly pressed her slightly throbbing forehead.
Damn these Barbarians!
For some reason, she had an ominous feeling. The plan, born of greed the moment she saw the Silver Dragon, seemed to have been fraught with unexpected developments from the very beginning. And now, it appeared that this Red Dragon, which kept appearing at critical moments, was the source of these unforeseen events.
"Do you think... is there a possibility that the Silver Dragon is indeed related to the Crimson Calamity Pafila, and this Red Dragon is a pawn of Pafila's, used to control the Silver Dragon?"
"...This." The question seemed to stump the aide-de-camp as well. After all, the banner they had initially raised, the explanations later given to the Barbarians, and even the statements prepared for the public, all claimed this very scenario. But now that Yevgeny mentioned it, it felt frighteningly possible that their fabrication could turn into reality. History, after all, had seen Silver Dragons that, for various reasons, 'defected' and sided with evil. When Elves ran into bad luck, even something as mundane as a menstrual cycle could supposedly lead to death from blood loss.
If this turned out to be true, it would be the end of them. They could not afford to provoke the Metal Dragons. But they certainly couldn't afford to provoke the Crimson Calamity Pafila either. If that legendary Red Dragon discovered they were planning to steal her 'creation' and treasure, Heaven only knew if the disaster of the Crimson Calamity might reoccur. That hot-tempered mother Red Dragon was likely even more irritable now. If they startled her from her slumber, being on the edge of her territory, their escape wouldn't be a matter of possibility; they would *definitely* not make it back to the New Continent. Pafila might fly all that way and still not find slaughtering just them satisfying enough. It wouldn't be out of character for her to continue on inertia, fly over Devinsel, and set off some fireworks over the Elf King's head. After all, when that mad mother Dragon truly lost control, she was indeed capable of such acts. History, scarred and wounded, was clear evidence.
By the Elf gods above, let us not be so unlucky!
Just as the two fell into a stunned, silent stupor, an excited High Elf rushed in to report, "Commander! She has reappeared! Our scouts witnessed her emerging from her hiding place! But she's too fast. Neither the Barbarians nor our men could keep up. We're currently closing the encirclement as planned. Given her current state, she shouldn't be able to escape this time."
Their plan was that once they exterminated those Barbarians in front of the Silver Dragon, thereby gaining her trust, they would make it big.
"Deploy the reserve Pegasus Knights! Make sure to intercept... wait a moment!" Yevgeny was halfway through speaking when she suddenly asked, "Which direction did she escape toward?"
The subordinate, still oblivious to the dire truth and rather proud of the news, replied, "Toward us!"
...Zenassania (Fuck!)
Yevgeny realized with dawning horror: That's right! That damned Red Dragon is also coming our way! A nightmare come true!
Feeling her scalp go numb and filled with urgency, Yevgeny snatched up her sword and turned in David's direction, ordering, "Scrap the original plan for now! Everyone, follow me!"
She decided to imitate the methods of their arch-nemeses, the Drow Elves. We must act before they regroup... Before the conspiracy is exposed... Focus fire and take down that Red Dragon! Eliminate the eyewitness! And if there's absolutely no other choice... take out the victim as well!
'Mecha Poppy' David had been on a godlike rampage, his head practically overheating. After accidentally swatting a surprisingly frail creature that tried to ambush him—he wasn't even sure what it was—he finally began to actively cool himself down.
He took a closer look and was surprised to see it was a High Elf with pale skin and pointed ears.
Why are High Elves here too? First, it was the Drow Elves, and now High Elves as well. Am I poking a hornet's nest of Elves? Will Goblins pop up next?
[Arrogance]
Wait! Something's not right.
David's head suddenly twitched. A sliver of rationality, just enough but not too much, reclaimed the molten highlands inside his skull, allowing him to piece together the situation from the limited information.
If those Drow Elves could come here to steal a Dragon Egg five years ago, why couldn't these High Elves? And half a month ago, when I exposed my presence while hunting in the valley, I attracted the covetous Barbarians, whom I then buried. Seeing that I'm not easy to mess with, did these Barbarians simply sell the information to the High Elves? So now, they're coming for me...
Damn it! I can't chase anymore; this is a trap!
David felt a surge of frustration and anger, akin to 'the commoners are always plotting against the emperor!' He didn't hesitate. Regardless of whether the paralysis agent still coursing through his veins might cause an aerial disaster if he tried to take off, he channeled all his strength into his lower body and stomped down fiercely!
A dull THUD echoed. The ground beneath him instantly sank and cracked from the terrible impact. The layer of snow, caught by the strong wind, blew in all directions as if a snowplow were at work, creating a scene resembling a blizzard.
And, as if by miracle, even with his dragon wings not fully participating in the takeoff, David somehow managed to launch himself into the leafy midair, like Superman with a single, powerful leap.
With the increase in altitude, he could see farther.
And what he saw—damn it!—was a swarm of High Elves rushing towards him like angry bees, as if he had defiled their Elf King. Among them were several skilled warriors, much like that Barbarian he'd encountered earlier.
Hmph! They even dare to ambush me.
Farewell!
Just as David was preparing for a prolonged engagement with these High Elves, he saw a horse face smash into his own at a speed of at least sixty miles per hour, striking him with a muffled THUD.
David, whose takeoff had immediately turned into an aerial disaster, smashed through several pine trees like an out-of-control Tesla before crashing heavily back to the ground.
He shook his buzzing head, dazed. He could barely make out a High Elf, also in disarray, struggling to her feet beside a Pegasus that had died on the spot. She drew her sword, pointed it at him, her face contorted with resentment. "Kill it!" she shrieked, determined to avenge her beloved steed.