Leopold's voice was very soft, but Isabella heard him clearly. Her pupils contracted slightly as she leaned down, pressing her ear close to his lips.
“What did you just say?”
“Two flows of dragon mana...” Leopold let out a muffled cough, golden dragon blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. “There are two completely different powers coexisting within his body. There's no mistake.”
Isabella helped Leopold to his feet. Seizing the momentum, Leopold brushed his hair back and glared at Elivan.
“I found it strange earlier. How could a mere goblin withstand the power of a dragon magic core?” He wiped the blood from his mouth, his golden eyes locking onto Elivan's still-burning metal prosthetic. “But then I understood—”
“The other flow of mana hidden inside you has been neutralizing the backlash of the dragon magic core this entire time, hasn't it?”
Elivan's expression finally changed. A wave of irritation washed over him at having his trump card exposed.
“You brat.”
“So that's why you weren't afraid of dragon magic from the start.” Leopold stood up straight, golden blood dripping from his chin onto the ground. “The special mana in your body neutralized the dragon attributes of our attacks!”
Isabella looked at Leopold's profile. So that's it! She gritted her teeth and fell into a combat stance.
Elivan sneered. “So what if you've figured it out? Dragon magic is useless against me. What else do you have—”
“Who said I was going to use dragon magic?”
“What?”
“Bella, buy me some time to chant.” Leopold immediately assumed a stance, preparing to chant an Elven spell.
The moment Leopold's voice fell, Isabella did not hesitate for a second. She immediately spread her massive dragon wings and lunged at Elivan.
She didn't use any magic, throwing herself at him with nothing but her sharp claws and raw dragon strength.
“Damn it!” Elivan was forced to raise his burning metal prosthetic to block. Claws clashed with metal, sending a shower of sparks flying. The recoil forced Isabella back half a step.
“Do you think you can defeat my enhanced self with physical strength alone?” Elivan roared. “Don't be naive! I will kill you! I will kill you both!”
Leopold did not know many Elven spells. Because he had only studied a basic textbook, it contained almost no powerful spells with short chants.
However, Oliver had once taught him a high-level spell with a medium-to-long chant specifically to help correct his Elvish pronunciation. He had never cast it in full before and had no idea of its actual power, but he was absolutely certain of one thing—this was a purely offensive Elven spell.
Right now, this was his only chance to break the deadlock.
“Nathar sylva, antiquus spiritus terrae—”
(Source of the forest, ancient spirit of the earth—)
Elivan's pupils contracted sharply. No, this isn't dragon magic! Oh no, this black dragon actually knows non-dragon magic!
“Ex imo solo surgere vincta virga—”
(From the deep soil, grow binding branches—)
Elivan finally sensed danger. He could feel the power gathering within Leopold—a force capable of completely dismantling his advantage!
“In your dreams!” Elivan roared. He spun around, completely ignoring Isabella's harassment. His blazing metal prosthetic, carrying the weight of a thunderbolt, lunged straight for Leopold's heart. “Don't you dare finish that chant!”
Isabella intercepted him almost instantly. Folding her wings, she threw herself into Elivan's path like a silver-white arrow.
Claws and metal clashed once more.
A few shattered claws scattered through the air, and golden dragon blood dripped from between her fingers. Yet she gritted her teeth, refusing to take a single step back.
“Constringe membra, obtege vim occultam—”
(Bind the limbs and torso, seal the hidden power—)
“Get out of the way! Move!” Elivan swung his fists frantically, raining down savage, powerful blows upon Isabella.
But Isabella did not yield an inch. Instead, she clamped her iron-like fingers tightly around his wrists.
“You lose,” Isabella said, smiling at Elivan.
Leopold's chant was nearing its end. The words of Ancient Elvish materialized in front of him as pale green rings of light, slowly rotating and stacking upon one another.
Elivan could feel death closing in!
“Let go! Let go of me!” Elivan's fist slammed into Isabella's face, splashing golden dragon blood. Isabella gave a soft chuckle and used the momentum to leap back, leaving Elivan to face Leopold's magic head-on!
“Vincula viridia non solvantur donec hostis succumbat!”
(The verdant shackles shall not loosen until the enemy succumbs!)
The moment Leopold's final syllable fell, the countless magic circles floating before him exploded in a dazzling green light. The cracked floor of the meeting room shuddered violently as thick, resilient teal vines erupted from the ground with a howling wind!
Elivan instinctively raised his burning metal prosthetic to slash at the vines, but their resilience far exceeded his expectations. As soon as he severed one, even more coiled around him, tightly binding his arms, waist, and legs.
“Impossible! What kind of power is this?!” Elivan struggled desperately, blue veins bulging all over his body.
Leopold leaned against the wall to steady himself, dragon blood dripping steadily from his chin. This was the first time he had ever successfully cast this Fifth-Circle Elven spell in its entirety.
But to his surprise, his mana had flowed naturally! To cast a spell, one generally had to meet two conditions: first, chant the spell completely, and second, correctly guide the flow of mana.
Although he had a rough understanding of how Elven magic directed mana, successfully casting it on his very first attempt was simply mind-boggling.
Was it because of his blessing?
“Your trump card is useless now,” Leopold said, his breath weak but his eyes cold.
“Cough, cough, cough...”
The vines continued to constrict, emitting a creaking sound as if they were grinding his bones to dust piece by piece.
Isabella lay on the ground not far away, her golden dragon blood pooling around her. Leopold dragged his heavy steps over, bending down to gently lift her up.
Isabella lay in his arms, seemingly having fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion. However, her brow remained tightly furrowed, as if she were still mindful of the battle.
“...It's over, Bella.” Leopold pulled her closer into his embrace. “You did great. It's all thanks to you, Bella...”
Leopold gently brushed away the stone dust from Isabella's forehead, pressing her face against his chest to keep her a bit warmer.
A dead silence fell over the ruins of the meeting room.
Suspended in mid-air, Elivan was bound tightly by the vines. The dark red magic core inside his black metal prosthetic had grown dim, its flames long extinguished.
“...You think you've won?”
Leopold cradled Isabella and did not answer. He stood in place, his golden eyes calmly looking down at Elivan's distorted face.
“Do you think I'd be stupid enough to come alone?” Elivan squeezed a laugh from his throat, coughing up wet, bloody froth. “When His Majesty Thranduil... enhanced me, I wasn't the only one...”
Leopold's pupils contracted slightly.
“...What did you say?”
“Haha... welcome your death, you damn—” Before he could finish, Elivan's body went limp, all signs of life completely fading.
The dark red magic core rolled to the ground, but atop the roof of the meeting hall, three silhouettes suddenly appeared!
“...Three of them?” Leopold muttered to himself.
“Oh my, Lord Elivan is dead. What a wonderful thing...” The speaker on the far left spoke in a cheerful tone, with a trace of childlike innocence.
“Ugh, I don't want to fight!” The one on the far right crouched down, clutching their head in their hands, their voice thick with tears.
“Ah, what should we do with you, Leopold...” The shadow in the middle spoke, its voice dripping with danger and despair.
Rate on N.U.
