Yourntihnac remained oblivious to the impending threat as Nickolas silently conjured a spell that would amplify the arrow’s power.

  “Bubilatrum!” he intoned sharply. In an instant, the arrow swelled to the size of a wagon, transforming into a formidable projectile. Before the dragon could react, the colossal arrow collided with its face, the impact sending the relentless beast reeling back in pain, disruptively shattering the gravity hold it had imposed on the battlefield.

  Seizing this precious moment of vulnerability, the soldiers below rallied, launching their assault on the dragon’s exposed underbelly—a visceral opportunity they could not ignore. Captain Krol led the charge with unyielding ferocity, hacking at the dragon's tough scales with all his might wielding a greatsword. Infuriated, the dragon regained its footing and unleashed a devastating swipe at the nearby soldiers, its claws raking through their ranks.

  Just then, a fireball spell erupted, crashing squarely into the dragon's back, drawing its furious gaze to the source of the attack. This moment of distraction created a crucial blind spot, precisely the opening Bucrok had been waiting for. With a fierce swing of his battle hammer, he struck at the dragon with bone-shattering force, channeling all his strength into the blow.

  Nickolas paused for a brief moment, a surge of relief flooding over his features as he watched over the fight. “It’s working,” he murmured to himself, the glimmer of hope rising as the tide of battle began to shift in their favor.

  Bucrok sprang toward the dragon, intent on targeting its hind legs. Ice arrows rained down upon the beast’s face, launched by a supporting mage, while Lieutenant Triggs led a ferocious offensive from the front. With his twin blades in hand, Triggs danced around the dragon’s deadly strikes, deftly evading its lethal bites and slashes. The sight of fallen soldiers, turned to mere pulp, stirred a deep sorrow within Lieutenant Triggs. Seizing a moment of distraction, Bucrok prepared to strike. Yet, just before his blow would land, a searing pain gripped his heart. His body jerked as if controlled by some unseen force, and his hammer suddenly felt unnaturally heavy, causing him to drop it. Confusion enveloped him until he realized both spells faded and that this was the cost of using so much borrowed power. In that fleeting instant, the dragon caught sight of his vulnerable state and swatted him aside like a nuisance, sending him crashing through a series of buildings. Lying motionless, Bucrok became an inviting target, and the dragon resolved to eliminate the threat once and for all.

  With a fearsome roar, Yourntihnac drew back for a devastating breath attack, but Jaquawe sprang into action, desperate to halt the impending doom. Out of arrows, the resourceful Alofrian resorted to unleashing feathers from his own body. A few found their mark in the dragon’s eye, but Yourntihnac brushed off the discomfort with disdain. Jaquawe’s instincts screamed of imminent peril as he felt the weight of danger loom overhead. Nickolas flew closer, invoking a protective barrier around Bucrok,

  “Denizarra” he said as he braced himself to renew the spell. Just as the dragon unleashed its torrent of purple energy, it redirected its gaze towards Nickolas, unleashing the beam at him instead. In that split second, Nickolas cast the barrier over himself,

  “Denizarra!” he shouted, his instincts sharper this time, he knew how to focus better to survive. With the dragon’s purple breath raging forth, its tail lashed against the barrier shielding Bucrok. Each assault sent tremors through the spell, and Jaquawe quickly realized the breath attack was merely a ruse. With a final strike, the barrier shattered, and the dragon’s fierce tail aimed for the kill. Without a second thought, Jaquawe leaped into the path of destruction. The collision was catastrophic, bones cracking under the force. When Bucrok finally lifted his gaze, he found Jaquawe looming protectively over him, wounded and bloodied, with crumpled wings drooping at his sides.

  “Jaquawe? What…” Bucrok struggled to find his voice. Despite the blood trickling from his lips, Jaquawe managed a smile, his body trembling with agony.

  “You… must… survive!” he gasped, fighting to communicate. Just then, before Jaquawe could say anything else, a pair of immense jaws, lined with menacing jagged teeth, closed around him. A horrifying display of dominance erupted as blood splattered over Bucrok.

  “Jaquawe…” Bucrok breathed softly, still in disbelief at the sight before him. There stood Yourntihnac, wearing a smug expression as it methodically chewed. Enraged, Bucrok felt a fresh wave of anger surging within him as he struggled to rise, consumed by fury. Agonizing waves of pain coursed through his body, as if it were rebelling against Bucrok's commands. Gritting his teeth, he battled through the agony, each throb intensifying his fury. With reckless abandon, he charged at the dragon, fists clenched and weapon absent. The dragon snarled, but instead of engaging, a smirk crept across its face.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Too predictable,” Yourntihnac declared, satisfaction evident in its voice. With a swift swipe of its claw, it tore a rift into the fabric of reality, opening a swirling rift of chaotic colors that tugged at Bucrok. Energy crackled like lightning, leaving the orc with no time to halt his advance. He stumbled forward and plummeted into the abyss.

  “NO!” Nickolas shouted, desperation in his tone. He attempted to cast a halting spell, but it was futile; Bucrok vanished into the rift as it snapped shut. Frantically, Nickolas reached out for the fading mana, hoping to intervene, but a violent cough erupted from him, blood spilling forth. His body was nearing its limits, slowly deteriorating due to mana poisoning as he sacrificed his health for power. Inspecting his hands, he noticed new wrinkles forming, and felt his face to discover more had appeared there as well.

  “No…” Nickolas gritted his teeth, despair replacing his earlier confidence. “I’m not finished yet. We need to win this battle.”

  The dragon diverted its focus to the sky, utterly disregarding the soldiers, Captain Krol, and Lieutenant Triggs, who fought desperately to maintain its attention—yet their efforts were in vain. Yourntihnac noticed the spell formation materializing overhead; unsure of what it signified, it chose to prepare against any unexpected attack. With a menacing snarl, it gathered its strength for a colossal purple mana blast, ready to annihilate everything in its path. Ethereal purple light emanated from its mouth, glowing more intensely than before as it drew upon immense energy for its breath attack. The Mages around the dragon panicked and shot out whatever spells they could think of to stop it. As the spells hit the dragon’s scales they seemed to immediately dissipate.

  Snapping out of his shock, Nickolas's mind raced for a solution. He witnessed Captain Krol and Lieutenant Triggs striking futilely at the dragon, feeling increasingly ignored. Suddenly, inspiration struck him. He aimed his staff at the two soldiers.

  Bubilatrum!” Nickolas yelled, his voice strained and his throat slick with blood. In a desperate bout of coughing, he pressed on, and to his astonishment, the spell sparked to life. Suddenly, Lieutenant Triggs and Captain Krol's bodies swelled to nearly a third of the dragon's size. They exchanged bewildered glances, acknowledging each other with a nod of understanding. Lieutenant Triggs bent down, presenting his back to his commander, while Captain Krol dashed forward, leaping off Triggs’ back to confront the dragon’s glowing snout. With a powerful upward strike, he managed to deflect the ominous breath attack away from the mages hovering above, redirecting it toward the far-off mountains—the dwarves' territory. The resulting explosion sent ripples of shock through the ground.

  As the ritual spell above reached completion, the rift pulsated rhythmically, reminiscent of a heartbeat. With each pulse, the chaotic mana began retracting into the rift. Yourntihnac let out a frustrated snarl, finally realizing the creatures' intentions. The dragon's once-vibrant scales began to fade, its connection to the mortal realm slipping away. Its massive form twisted and struggled as it was pulled toward the rift.

  In a final act of defiance, the dragon lashed out with its claws, unleashing three malevolent energy waves targeting Nickolas. Grounded and unable to escape, Nickolas's body throbbed with pain, the clone above him already dissipated, leaving him to control the spell formation solo. The mages in the air provided a framework, and he had to direct their collective power like a skilled conductor. Captain Krol attempted to shield Nickolas from the strikes with his giant form, but as one wave struck him, he vanished without a trace. Fear gripped his troops as they realized their commander had disappeared. With two more deadly energy attacks barreling toward Nickolas, Lieutenant Triggs rushed to emulate Krol’s brave move, trying to intercept both incoming hits. His efforts proved futile; he too vanished just as swiftly, leaving the final wave hurtling toward Nickolas. Yourntihnac’s grin widened in satisfaction while Nickolas’s heart raced, frantically working to expedite the spell.

  Then, out of nowhere, an Alofrian woman appeared, shoving Nickolas aside and sacrificing herself in the process. Confused, Nickolas glanced up, ready to express his gratitude, but she had already disappeared. Frustration twisted Yourntihnac’s face as it turned its attention to the castle. Alarm surged through Nickolas. The mages who had been idle rushed to shield the castle with their bodies, prepared to give their lives for its protection. But instead of unleashing the expected breath attack, the dragon spoke, its calm demeanor sending shockwaves of panic through everyone.

  “En Thro Ragh I Fid Tran Dalla Kuma Nud Quali Drung…” Yourntihnac intoned, and as it finished, it cast a final look at Nickolas while being pulled into the rift. Suddenly Nicholas' face twisted in fear. In an instant, the colossal rift in the sky sealed shut. It was over. The soldiers on the battlefield although mourning began to cheer a battle cry for victory. As if all their sacrifices paid off. The only one not cheering was Nicholas.

  Nickolas crumpled to the ground as the relentless mana poisoning overwhelmed him. In an instant, he felt his body age, his strength evaporating like mist. As he lay there, the dragon's final words reverberated through his thoughts. “I leave you a parting gift, Mage. You’ll understand soon enough.” Those words sent a shiver down his spine, but he felt too weak to unravel their significance. What mattered most at that moment was the city—though ravaged it was safe for now.