“Attack!” The Alphabets shouted as they rounded the bend, the forest on their left side opening to a wide grassy meadow that led to the other entrance of the camp. Nearly a dozen orcs were charging up the shallow slope, their shields raised to block the rain of arrows coming from the two guard towers standing on either side of the opening. 

Between the towers stood the paladin Lord Uther, standing beside two footmen and holding the centre of the human defensive line. The snap of gunfire could be heard further up the slope, leading John to think a couple of the scouts were back behind the hastily built barricades around the towers, taking pot shots at the approaching orcs.

Where are the rest of his men? He left the camp with over a dozen yesterday.

John didn’t dwell on that, picking up his speed to maintain the pace Eh had set for the footmen. The messenger, who turned out to be actually a knight, was mounted on a warhorse and was swinging away from the footmen. From John’s perspective, it looked like he intended to attack the orcs’ right flank when the footmen hit them on the left and centre. 

The orcs were focused on the humans in front of them and surrounded the three melee fighters. If it hadn’t been for Uther and his healing, they would have been overrun before John’s forces managed to get across the field. As it was, the man was laying into the orcs, his hammer coming down on their shields with enough force to buckle the metal holding them together. 

Still, Uther was taking blows from the beasts, unable to heal himself with his Holy Light spell. He took a glancing blow to his forehead from an orc axe that was deflected by one of the footmen’s shields, causing a torrent of blood to spill over his eyes, blinding the paladin.

“Darkness! Darkness!” John called out, blinding two of the orcs before the Alphabets crashed into the rear of the attacking orcs. With the orcs’ numerical advantage eliminated, the footmen supported by the two paladins’ healing magic turned the tide of the battle, which now favoured the humans. Not to say the orcs were routed, as they continued to put up a fierce fight.

John stepped in to finish an orc off that had just landed a devastating blow on Dee, the man’s shield arm snapping under the pressure of the powerful impact, causing him to scream out in pain. Fueled by his anger, John’s sword lopped off the orc’s arm, then he drove its point through the orc’s chest to pierce its heart. 

The fight concluded shortly afterwards, and John stepped back to deal with the wounded man, chanting his healing magic to patch him up. When he finished, he stood up and came face-to-face with Uther, the older man pressing a bandage to the wound on his head.

“You mind, lad? I got a little careless, and one of them gave me a scratch.” He said, taking the cloth off his wound. With the pressure gone, the blood began to ooze out immediately.

“Of course. Heal!” He chanted, the bloody head wound closing rapidly, the basic healing spell working almost as well as middle heal normally did. 

“That is an interesting spell you used there, lad. Where did you learn it?” Uther asked him, curious where his old apprentice picked up such a spell. The elves had some incredible healing magic, but to the best of his knowledge, John hadn’t encountered them often, except during the battles against the forest trolls outside the elven city of Quel’Thalas, and that was a couple of years back. 

“Well, I learned a thing or two from a few books I’ve read,” John said, adlibbing an excuse. He didn’t even think of how to explain to Uther about where he learned his new spells. “Our Holy Light is so inefficient in its mana use, not to mention you cannot use it on yourself. I wanted other options.”

“I see. Now, the next question. Where is your armour? Did you forget your shoulder plates are what identify you as a paladin of the Knights of the Silverhand?”

Shit! “I left it and the hammer with the baroness in the village. This armour is stronger, easier to move in, and has a helmet! Seriously, why are we not wearing helmets? That head wound you took could have been prevented by one of these.” John said, knocking on the helmet he was holding.

“Because wearing metal around our heads reduces our connectivity to god and our holy powers. Lad, I know you already know this. I am positive you asked that very same question a decade ago.” He sighed. “No matter, what’s done is done. You can retrieve it after we are done here, as you can see the orcs have clearly been testing us.”

Why would having metal around your head weaken your magic? I haven’t noticed that. Not that it matters, I am not going back to that other armour.

“I see that. Probably good that we showed up when we did. Where did all your men go anyway?” John asked, happy to be off the topic of his armour and magic.

“I had sent two knights in to parlay with the orc leader earlier, only their horses returned. I lost a couple when the orcs sprung a surprise attack earlier, and I wasn’t at the front line. The rest are out on a patrol I sent out this morning, before I realised the orcs were not interested in discussion. That leaves these two fine chaps, the archers in the towers, and those two scouts you told to report to me yesterday. 

“Well then? What is our next move?”

“We offered them peace, and they slapped it away, Lad. It is time to put an end to them, and I would like you to lead the assault.” Uther said, slapping John on the shoulder hard enough that he felt it even through all the armour and padding underneath.

God, this man is a bear, isn’t he? Glad he is on our side.

Mid-Afternoon

“Are you sure it is this way?” John asked.

“That is what Bimi said. That they had a camp to the East, but were more interested in hunting down drakes or something, than killing a few orcs.” Ed said, relaying once again what the dwarven scouts had told them.

The Alphabets left the camp shortly after Uther had tasked John with taking out the orc base. The paladin had already set it up earlier in the day and, of all things, had a bunch of peasants from local villages chopping wood and working in a mine. John assumed they were just getting resources for a palisade or some other fortification. There were a half dozen depots they called ‘Farms’ where they stored supplies, and a barracks for the troops to sleep in if they were staying there longer. Supposedly, there was a convoy of reinforcements coming later, but that was when John found out there might be people to recruit much closer.

“Sir, I think that is it!” Bee said, pointing at a building in a nearby valley, built up against the base of a cliff. It was a fairly large building with a large, round chimney in the back, billowing out black smoke. 

“Let’s go take a look then.” He replied.

They made their way into the valley and stopped in front of what appeared to be a forge or blacksmith’s shop. Six dwarves were standing around in front of it, four wearing capes with rifles like Bimi had, and two others, one with a telescope in his hand, the other with a large cannon slung under his arm. 

“Well met, good human! Have you come to join in our hunt!” The dwarf with the telescope said when John approached.”

“We heard there were some crackshot riflemen down here, and I was hoping to recruit a few of you. You see-” John said, but was interrupted. 

“Naw, human, we heard you were looking at taking out those Blackrock orcs. We are here for black drakes, one in particular, Searinox.” The one holding the cannon said. “It is said that Drake’s blood can bestow fiery enchantments upon weapons.”

John had a feeling of de ja vu. Talking with this dwarf reminded him of talking with those villagers in that hamlet yesterday.

Note Four – Ask Alec why some of these conversations in this world seemed scripted. 

That said, enchanting his weapon could be useful…!!!!

“Did you say a Drake?” John said, remembering back to his time in The Great Cleric. That great red beast that flew over his head when he arrived. The same one who tore Bazaan’s arm to shreds.

“Aye, laddie. With your aid, the monster won’t stand a chance!” The dwarf said, and the rest of the riflemen began to cheer as well. It became contagious, and even The Alphabets started to cheer.

“You okay, Milord?” Eh asked him.

John wasn’t. He was shaking and white as a sheet underneath his armour. That thing was gigantic, there is no way in hell… 

He looked at his men, who were looking at him expectantly.

He sighed.

“Oh, for the love of… does someone have a spare rifle I can use? Let’s go kill a drake.” He said, resigning himself to this stupidity. “Though when we kill it, I expect some help taking down the orcs. They ransacked a village yesterday and killed a lot of people.   

One of the hooded dwarves rushed into the shop, crashed around in there for a moment, then came out with a rifle. “You ever use one of these, Lad?”

John took it from him, and despite it being a fantasy weapon, it seemed pretty straightforward. He looked around for a target, then aimed at a hog that was sniffing the ground in the forest three hundred yards away. “Not this model, but I have shot once or twice before.” He pulled the trigger, and a blast exploded from the rifle. The hog fell over, the bullet catching it in the chest. The dwarves whistled at him appreciatively. “Now, a couple of you go pick that up and bring it back here, we are eating pig tonight!”

The crowd cheered.

John leaned over to the dwarf who handed him the rifle. “Now, how do I reload it?” He whispered.

The Alphabets, along with their new contingent of four riflemen, made their way into a nearby cave where they expected the drakes to be. John was carrying his new rifle, which the kindly dwarf had shown him how to operate properly. It really wasn’t much different from a black powder rifle, except they had a neat mechanism that would auto-load it with a cocking handle. There was a spot to pour powder in, and on the other side, the shot. It almost seemed like magic, but they insisted it was just quality dwarven craftsmanship. 

The cave was quite large, with a few holes in the ceiling letting some light in. The most notable thing John could say about it was that it reeked of death. Piles of corpses were strewn about everywhere, some still with flesh on their bones, others had already been picked clean. He made sure to give the piles a wide berth, not wanting to drag around that rancid smell with him for the rest of the day. 

They quickly found their first target, a black drake no larger than an elephant. It was circling above a pile of carrion, oblivious to their presence. They snuck up on it until they were in range, then the five of them opened fire on it, riddling its neck and wings with bullets. It turned and began to fly towards them, but was put down when a round hit it in the eye during their second volley.

“That… was easier than expected,” John said, looking at the corpse. It was smaller than the one he had seen in the other world, but still, he expected more of a fight.

“Oi, lad. It was just a baby. Searinox is a much larger beastie. 

Great

They continued deeper into the canyon, taking out a small group of the baby drakes. These got close enough for them to counterattack, breathing green clouds of noxious gases on the group. They paused while John healed and detoxified everyone who took in the fumes, John not wanting to know what kind of damage that breath weapon would do to a person’s insides if left to linger.

Finally, they reached the end of the cave, the lead dwarf raising his hand to stop everyone’s advance. “Okay, the beastie is in there. Now remember, it is ancient and is bound to have a trick or two. Now, laddie, you and your men advance while we move into position. If you can keep its attention for just a few seconds, we can start putting lead into it.”

“Since when was it the plan for us to be the bait?” John asked, but started walking. He was already neck deep in this crap; he might as well finish it. His men followed close behind, sure in their prince’s ability to keep them alive after his healing during yesterday’s battle. John just wished he had their confidence. 

Bloody hell, I should have just waited for the reinforcements to arrive. 

He cast a barrier on himself, hoping the basic defensive spell would help resist the poison breath weapons these drakes seemed to use. 

If it was on the ground, I could use my sword, that would make more- Well, no, I would rather not be up close and personal with a drake.

Regretting his life choices for the day, he moved into the cavern, the rifle at the ready. It didn’t take him long to spot the drake, and as he feared, it was even bigger than the red one he had seen in The Great Cleric. Shining black scales, massive wings and a fat body larger than a semi-truck and trailer, the amount of malice it gave off was frightening. He was already in range, aiming for the beast’s head when it turned to him and spoke in fluent English. “You dare challenge me? You mortals become more reckless with every generation!”

Jesus, it can speak!?!

Shoving his fear aside, John fired at it, the round penetrating the beast’s scales near one of its eyeballs. It threw its head back, roaring in pain, then flapped its wings and charged at John.

“Darkness!” He cast the spell while running to the side, but as he suspected, the spell glanced off the beast. A cloud of noxious green breath shot at him, a much larger, denser, and more potent cloud than that of the smaller drakes. Unable to avoid it, he took the brunt of the blast over his front. 

Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as badly as he thought it would. He cocked the weapon again, intent on taking another shot.

“Attack!” Eh shouted, and the footmen all charged past him. He didn’t know what they were doing, but it didn’t matter right then. He took another shot. 

Unlike John, Eh had seen the dragon raise a handful of skeleton archers, which were all bearing down on the Prince. He led his men forward to cut them off, while John and the riflemen dealt with the stinky dragon up there.

While John and the footmen were engaged, the riflemen moved into advantageous positions. The experienced hunters didn’t take more than a few moments before they began raining fire down on the dragon, aiming for the joints in its wings and other softer targets. The high-calibre shots buried themselves deeply into the ancient beast, its scales no match for the modern weaponry. 

John himself continued to be bathed in the noxious breath. He could feel it seeping through the cracks in his armour, his skin on fire wherever the corrosive gas touched. “Middle Heal!” He chanted, healing his wounds and clearing up his vision. The drake was losing altitude now; the dwarves had hit it enough to impede its ability to fly. John dropped the rifle and drew his sword, his anger fueling the storm of power that was The Sword of Truth. Anger at this dragon for trying to melt his skin, anger at being bait, and anger at himself for even agreeing to this plan.

“ARGH!!!!” He shouted and charged past the footmen, directly towards the drake. It landed roughly, its legs buckling beneath it, but it pushed up with its forearms, trying to get its massive weight back underneath its legs. 

“You mortals are ever a thorn in my si-” It started to curse at them, the beast about to blow another cloud of gas, but John was upon it then. He directed all his power into the swing, and like he was cutting butter, his sword cleaved through the drake’s neck, ending its tirade of curses before it even began. 

Sadly, John hadn’t thought to compensate for the lack of resistance and tumbled forward, his momentum carrying him into the dragon’s esophagus and disappearing into the opening. 

“You’re an eager one there, laddie.” One of the dwarves called after him, “That is the most interesting way I have seen someone try to go for a dragon’s heart!” 

Cheers reverberated throughout the cave, the Alphabet squad ecstatic that their prince landed the killing blow and became a dragon slayer. The dwarves were happy to have been part of this dragon hunt. Yes, dragon, not drake. 

The story of the epic hunt for the Ancient Black Dragon, Searinox, would go down in history. The dwarves’ children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren would all tell the tale of how a band of dwarves and humans fought together and brought the beast low, with Prince John himself making the killing blow.

John just groaned in pain.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep