Chapter 98: The Dragon’s Shadow
When the first rays of sunlight peeked over the eastern peaks, Kellar opened his eyes. Sitting up on the furs, he noticed that the four hunters were already fully equipped and ready to march. Checking the time on his translucent interface, he realized his men had let him sleep nearly two hours past their agreed schedule. Although he wanted to play tough and call them out for breaking the rotation, the fatigue from the journey and constant labor was real; his body appreciated the extra rest.
"Secure your weapons," said Kellar, standing up and shaking the dust from his cloak. "We have work to do today."
The group left the rock shelter and advanced at a steady pace into the valley. As they crossed the outer boundary, the dirt beneath their feet looked grayish and desolate; however, as their view stretched toward the east, the ground’s color grew progressively darker, until it turned pitch black.
"The Black Skull Tribe is located toward the west, Shaman," said Brak, pointing in the opposite direction of the black soil. "Their scouts usually patrol the canyons on that side."
Kellar did not answer right away. He brought two fingers to his mouth and let out a short, sharp whistle. In a flash, Freyja’s small figure leapt down from a stone ledge and landed softly in front of him.
"Freyja, what is over to the east?" said Kellar, gesturing toward the dark swath of land. "What makes the ground change color like that?"
"There is a very large, angry lizard living over there," said Freyja, licking a whisker with her paw. "If it gets mad, I won’t be able to protect you. It can’t kill me, but it would crush you guys like bugs."
Hearing the description of a "large, angry lizard," Kellar’s mind immediately formulated a clear picture. In his head, the silhouette of a mythical beast with colossal horns, membranous wings, and red scales took shape.
"Does it look like this?" said Kellar, mentally projecting the image of a red dragon toward his familiar through their bond.
"Yes, Master!" said Freyja, opening her eyes in surprise. "How did you even know the color? Have you seen it before?"
Kellar went pale. A drop of cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck as reality hit him hard. That explained the ash, the sulfur, the ground’s heat, and the total absence of beasts in the area: this was no ordinary desolate steppe, it was a damn dragon’s nest. If that thing ever woke up or moved toward their settlement, they were fucked.
"Nobody goes anywhere near the dark zone," said Kellar in a tense voice, making a firm gesture to his hunters. "We stay strictly on this edge."
Attempting to maintain his composure, Kellar knelt down and gathered two soil samples: one from the grayish area where they stood and another a few yards ahead, right where the dirt began turning pitch black. Focusing on both substances, his interface screen displayed a comparative analysis:
[Sample A: Grayish Volcanic Ash]
[Composition: 65% Potassium Nitrate (Saltpeter), 20% Elemental Sulfur, 15% Ordinary carbonaceous residues.]
[Potential Use: Excellent base for standard low-combustion black powder and slow fuses.]
[Sample B: Dragon-Breath Black Ash]
[Composition: 85% High-purity Potassium Nitrate, 10% Concentrated volcanic sulfur, 5% Traces of bio-catalyst substance (Burned dragon scales and high-temperature draconic residue).]
[Chemical Properties:] When mixed with Crimson Pitch Volcanic Resin, the deflagration rate increases tenfold. The presence of the draconic catalyst generates a violent exothermic reaction capable of melting primitive iron and generating a high-impact explosive shockwave.
[Potential Use: Military-Grade Black Powder / Enhanced Breaching Explosives.]
Kellar packed both samples into his leather pouches with a mixture of dread and fascination. They possessed the ultimate raw material to eradicate their enemies, but they were harvesting it right out of the mouth of a monster capable of incinerating the entire valley.
Never, under any circumstances, enter that dark zone," said Kellar, staring intently at his men with a severity that chilled their blood. "There is something far too dangerous sleeping over there. If that thing wakes up, no one in this land will survive to tell the tale."
"Understood, Shaman," said Grok, snapping to attention immediately. "Fortunately, we have never attempted to advance toward that side. I will make sure to personally inform Krag and the rest of the hunters about your orders."
"Good," said Kellar, taking a deep breath to steady his pulse. "Let’s stick to the original plan. Brak, lead us toward the western canyons. Everyone stay sharp and quiet; we must not alert the enemy patrols prematurely."
The group advanced through the arid terrain toward the western canyons. As they probed deeper into the rocky defiles, the atmosphere grew increasingly oppressive. Suddenly, a gust of warm air swept through the pass, and floating through the air came several peculiar creatures. They were giant dragonflies, nearly thirty centimeters long, their bodies glowing with a beautiful crimson red while their wings vibrated so they appeared to be engulfed in living flames.
"Shaman, fall back!" said Brak in an urgent whisper, raising a hand as the group went on high alert. "That is a very bad sign."
Kellar lost no time and activated [Hunter’s Scent]. Instantly, a concentrated surge of scents struck his nostrils: a pungent stench of molten metal mixed with sulfur an aroma completely distinct from anything he had perceived in the valley so far. Following the trail of scent, Kellar locked his gaze onto a mound of ash a few yards away. He could feel something moving beneath the surface, even though the dirt barely stirred.
A second later, the ground erupted.
A colossal centipede burst violently from the earth. With terrifying speed, its massive chitinous mandibles snapped shut around two of the flaming dragonflies in midair. The creatures exploded as they were crushed, releasing a brilliant flare, but the fire didn’t leave even the slightest scratch on the beast’s armor. Before the hunters could even react, the centipede dived back under the ash and vanished as quickly as it had emerged.
Kellar felt a freezing chill run down his spine. The creature had only been visible for a few seconds, but it was more than enough to leave an indelible mark on his memory. Its upper carapace was a dark red color like dried blood, while its underbelly glowed with a fire-red hue that seemed to burn from within.
Instinctively, Kellar tightened his grip on the hilt of his ceremonial dagger, prepared for the worst; however, the centipede seemed to have no interest in the group and continued its path underground.
From a high rock, Freyja watched in silence with her tail raised, keeping her claws ready in case the centipede was stupid enough to try something in her presence.