“Shoot! Shoot them!”
“Orcs, shields up! Everyone else, stay on the move! Keep them guessing!”
On the first floor of the Royal Guard’s headquarters, an intense battle raged between the knights and the demi-humans from the slums. Shouts echoed through the air as explosions roared without pause.
Seagall bit his lip, then yelled, “Damn it! This is outrageous!”
In this kingdom’s class-based society, privilege was concentrated in the hands of royalty and the nobility, with the poor used as scapegoats for the citizens’ dissatisfaction. The standard policy was to deliberately keep certain races in poverty and redirect their rage into territorial disputes against one another.
This had kept the slums plagued by violent interracial conflicts until not long ago. But now, the various factions had united as one to fight for a single man—and were occupying the main stronghold of the knights responsible for upholding that very class system.
“Who the hell is this man?!” Seagall yelled in frustration as he swung down his saber.
Zophia, chief of the lizardmen, blocked the blade with a knife and replied, “He’s our savior.”
“That’s preposterous!”
Sparks flew as they leaped apart.
“Sir Seagall!” a knight shouted. “What are those?!”
“What?”
Everyone turned to look at the high windows of the first-floor hall, beyond which countless black spots could be seen. They scattered in the sky, and some of them began to draw closer. They had fierce reptilian faces, red eyes, and black wings that matched the color of the rest of their bodies. Their sharp talons gleamed dully under the sunlight.
“Dragons?!”
No sooner was the word spoken, than a dragon smashed through the wall and charged into the hall. Flying debris struck Seagall in the knee, knocking him to the ground.
“Ngh!”
“Dragon! It’s a draaagooon!” someone shouted.
“H-How?!”
“Drive it back! Drive it baaack!”
A black dragon, roughly twice the height of an adult human, had landed in the hall. Though it was small for its species, its ferocious, intimidating aura was enough to freeze the knights in place.
“Wh-What the...” Seagall muttered, staring at the creature in complete shock.
Through the collapsed wall, he could see other black dragons swooping down all across the capital: in the palace, the special district, the city proper, and the slums. Every area was under attack by the death-colored reapers, and screams rose from all over.
But the much more pressing issue was the pair of massive jet-black wings protruding from the holy area known as the Sacred Garden, visible in the distance.
As they slowly flapped, the entire hill began to ascend, rubble crumbling away to gradually reveal a massive figure: a towering black dragon, its body armored by black, ominously gleaming scales. It spread its wings, blocking out the sunlight and casting a shadow over the entire capital. From its enormous body, scales were peeling off one after another, turning into the smaller dragons that were raining down upon the city.
It’s the end of the world, was the first thought that crossed Seagall’s mind.
“Is that the fell dragon king Carmilla mentioned?” Zophia asked. “So she was telling the truth...”
“This is bad. Really bad,” Lynga said. “He woke up much faster than we thought.”
“That’s one big lizard,” Loewe remarked. “Doubt it’d make for a good roast.”
As the three demi-humans exchanged words, Seagall grunted, reaching for his gun to fight off a nearby foe—only to realize he’d dropped it when the debris struck him. With his knee injured, he couldn’t stand up either.
Zophia didn’t spare him a glance. “Change of target, all of you! Take down that dragon first! After that, we head into the city and go for the black lizards!”
“Roger that!” the demi-humans responded as one.
They launched themselves at the dragon rampaging in the hall.
“Hey! I’m unarmed!” Seagall blurted out. “Are you really not going to take this chance?”
Zophia gave him an exasperated look and shrugged. “Are you stupid? Now’s not the time.”
“If those dragons destroy the capital, Sir Zenos won’t have anywhere to come home to,” Lynga pointed out.
“That’s right,” Loewe agreed. “We have to hold out until he returns.”
Thanks to the demi-humans’ coordinated efforts, the small dragon that had broken into the hall was brought down.
“We protect our home!” Zophia said to Seagall. “You live here too, don’t you? Then fight!”
With that, she left a few demi-humans to guard the teleportation circle and rushed out into the city.
As the remaining knights stood there, stunned, a sharp command rang out from above.
“What are you all standing around for?!” shouted Vice Commander Krishna as she charged down the stairs. “We are the guardians of order in the capital! To arms! Protect the people from this threat!”
The soldiers snapped to attention as if struck by lightning and rushed out of the headquarters.
“Krishna...” Seagall muttered, sitting on the floor and clutching what was likely a broken knee. “You’re supposed to be under arrest...”
“There’s no time for that anymore.”
“I don’t understand. What is happening? What is this?”
First, the saintess had disappeared. Then, when the mastermind behind her abduction had been sent down the well, a group of demi-humans had attacked the Royal Guard’s headquarters. Those things by themselves had been unprecedented enough—but now, as if heralding the end of the world, a massive dragon had emerged from the Sacred Garden and was slowly encroaching upon the capital.
Things far beyond expectation were happening one after another, and Seagall couldn’t keep up.
But Krishna remained serene, picked up his discarded magical gun, and tossed it to him. “Whatever may be happening, our job remains the same.”
They maintained order in the capital.
“You...really think we can do something about that?” Seagall asked, gazing at the dragon cloaked in the stench of death.
“I do not,” Krishna replied simply. “But that is no reason to shy away from it.”
Seagall didn’t know how to respond.
“Sir Seagall, I once dreamed of being a hero. The kind that would appear in times of crisis and radiantly overcome adversity. But after meeting a true savior, I realized my actions were but a pale imitation of heroism. Still, I believe we can buy time for the true hero to arrive.”
“The true hero? And who would that be?” Seagall blurted out.
Most people who joined the Royal Guard wished to be heroes in some way or another. But buried under dull bureaucracy, forced to perform excessive crackdowns on dissidents, and entangled in the muck of organizational politics, they all eventually lost the spark in their eyes.
Krishna, however, simply looked at Seagall and gave a small smile. “He will come. I am certain of it. Until then, may fortune smile on us both.”
Still sitting, Seagall watched Krishna run off toward the city as black smoke rose in the distance.
“Sir,” said a nearby knight. “What should we do about the teleportation circle? Only a few demi-humans remain. We might be able to break through.”
“It’s fine,” Seagall muttered, weakly shaking his head. “Leave it.”
With the government’s central command on the verge of collapse, it no longer made sense to care about a single prisoner. The second wave of small dragons approaching, visible through the shattered window above, was a far more pressing matter.
Gripping his magical gun tightly, Seagall forced himself to his feet despite the pain.
“‘The true hero,’ she says... If he exists, then he needs to hurry up...”