“Everyone! Our plan is proceeding incredibly smoothly! According to reports, the evil dragons' castle has already been destroyed!” A shrill voice echoed through the meeting hall, which had been converted from an abandoned mine shaft.
Dozens of Dragon Slayers crowded along both sides of the long, narrow stone table. Some stood up, while others slammed their clenched fists onto the tabletop. Coarse cheers echoed throughout the mine shaft, continuing for quite some time before gradually dying down.
“Even though our champion, Lord Elivan, has not yet returned, the Alliance has already decided to deploy their forces tonight! The doom of the evil dragons and those who harbor them is nigh!”
A brief silence fell over the mine shaft, followed immediately by an even more feverish commotion.
“The Alliance is finally deploying their forces?”
“I knew those elders weren't cowards!”
“Once Lord Elivan returns with the dwarfs' weapons, we'll march straight into the royal capital—”
Sitting at the very end of the stone table, a young goblin did not join in the cheering. Clutching a quill in his hand, he looked up, his gaze passing over his ecstatic companions to land on the dark, gloomy opening of the mine shaft entrance.
It was too quiet.
Dragons were not so easily destroyed. Looking at the cheering crowd, his body couldn't help but tremble.
Run! He had to run right now, or it would be too late!
“With the Alliance deploying tonight, the main Bronzebeard forces will be pinned down on the western front. When the time comes, we will split into two routes—”
“One route will head to the royal capital to take out those fence-sitters in the Council of Elders amidst the chaos,” another voice chimed in lightheartedly. “The other route will head to the backup warehouse in the east. That little brat Gorn thinks nobody knows where he hid the armaments, hmph...”
Before the laughter in the mine shaft could subside, the young goblin pushed back his chair.
“Where are you going?” the goblin next to him asked, grabbing his sleeve.
“...Stomachache.” He wrenched his arm free and walked toward the depths of the mine shaft without looking back, leaving the mocking laughter of his companions behind him.
“Is this kid scared out of his wits?”
“A goblin with a stomachache? That's hilarious, hahaha!”
“When the time comes, I will kill that white dragon with my own hands!” A one-eyed goblin stood up, a frenzied expression on his face.
“Who did you say you were going to kill?” Leopold's voice echoed from above the meeting hall.
The one-eyed goblin froze, the grin stiffening halfway across his face.
“Im... Impossible!” He took a step back, crashing into the attendant behind him and knocking over a wine cup.
“The castle...” someone said in a trembling voice. “Didn't the castle already collapse...”
“How could he possibly know about this place!”
Boom!
Leopold stepped heavily onto the center of the meeting room's round table. Standing tall, his gaze slowly swept across the stiff faces lining both sides of the stone table, and he suddenly smiled.
“Now then, which one of you should I start with?”
The one-eyed goblin was the first to react. Drawing his shortsword from his waist, he lunged wildly toward Leopold.
“Kill him—!”
The shadow beneath Leopold suddenly surged. A pitch-black claw shot out from the tabletop, cleanly slitting the goblin's throat with pinpoint accuracy.
A deathly silence fell over the meeting room.
Standing in the center of the round table, Leopold watched the expressions of the goblins shift from terror to trembling, and finally to desperate resolve. They began reaching for the weapons at their waists. Some muttered prayers under their breath, while others started backing toward the door.
“What are you all standing around for!” another voice boomed from the end of the stone table. “He didn't bring any companions! There's only one dragon! Kill him!”
Those words were like a spark landing on a barrel of gunpowder.
In an instant, at least seven or eight goblins drew their weapons simultaneously and lunged at Leopold.
Leopold did not even attempt to dodge. The shadow beneath him erupted within a fraction of a second, forming a circular black barrier that blocked all seven weapons at once.
The goblins froze for a moment; they had never seen such magic before.
Leopold yawned. He looked up at the figure who had just barked the orders at the end of the stone table—a fellow wearing magical leather armor with a magical battleaxe hanging from his waist.
“Are you the commander?”
“So what if I am?” The commander gripped the battleaxe at his waist. He tried to put on a brave front, but everyone could see right through him—he was terrified.
“Hahaha!” The shadow beneath Leopold flickered, and in an instant, the seven or eight goblins surrounding him dropped dead.
“Ah!” A few goblins couldn't handle the sight and fainted onto the ground.
Leopold tilted his head and scanned the entire meeting room. There were about thirty goblins left. Some trembled as they clutched their weapons, some had already retreated to the corners, and a few were trying to slip toward the exit under the cover of the chaos.
“Run,” Leopold said.
The meeting room fell silent for a brief moment.
“I said, run,” he repeated, his tone incredibly casual. “Before I change my mind.”
The commander clenched his battleaxe tighter. “Do... Do you think we would—”
“Three.”
Leopold held up three fingers.
“Two.”
“Don't listen to—” Before the commander could finish his sentence, someone beside him threw down their weapon and bolted. It was a signal. Immediately after, a second, a third, a fourth...
“Damn it!” The commander slammed his fist heavily onto the table. The evil dragon before him was far too cunning; with just a few words, the morale of his forces had completely crumbled!
Yet, just as those who fled thought they had escaped with their lives, they discovered a white-haired girl standing behind the door.
Leaning against the doorframe, the girl tilted her head, her icy blue eyes calmly gazing at the frozen goblins inside the meeting room.
“Run,” Isabella said softly. “Why did you stop running?”
The first few goblins who had rushed to the door stumbled backward. A black dragon in front, a white dragon behind, and cold stone walls on both sides—they had nowhere to run!
“Great dragons, we are willing to follow you!” The goblin who cried out those words fell to his knees, his forehead pressed against the cold stone floor.
Behind him, several more goblins threw down their weapons. One after another, they knelt on the ground, scrambling to show their submission.
“Oh?” Leopold found it amusing. “Weren't you all shouting about 'killing dragons' just now? What's the matter? Now that a dragon is standing right in front of you, you don't want to kill us anymore?”
“My... My Lord Dragon, we... we were forced into this! It was Elivan! Elivan was the one who gathered us! He said the dwarfs would give us weapons, money, and status... We didn't know...”
Leopold looked down at the kneeling goblins. One by one, they bowed low, their foreheads pressed against the floor and their shoulders trembling as they begged for mercy.
They repeated the same phrases over and over: "forced," "didn't know," and "spare us."
He found it incredibly boring.
“...Bella.”
“Hmm?” Isabella looked up from the doorway.
“Do you think they're telling the truth?”
“No,” Isabella replied, looking up.
“Well then, I shall grant you the most merciful death. No need to thank me.” Leopold raised a finger, and the shadow beneath him spread silently, washing over the kneeling goblins like a tide.
There were no screams, no struggles. Wherever the shadow passed, the goblins' bodies seemed to be drained of all strength, collapsing limply one by one.
Isabella walked in from the doorway, stepping over a slumped corpse before stopping beside Leopold.
“Is it all over?” she asked.
Leopold nodded. He was about to speak when the shadow beneath him suddenly recoiled to his feet as if it had been scorched.
It was a reaction he had never experienced before—the shadow was... cowering?
He whipped his head around. Standing on the roof he had shattered was a goblin. He was a full head taller than normal goblins, and a black metal prosthetic was attached to his severed wrist.
“You must be... Leopold, right?”
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