“ERRRRRRRAAAAAHEEEAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!”

Zeyla dashed through the thick undergrowth, running underneath the massive Tropical Trees that filled her native jungle.

She neared Ramrock Village the rain beginning to pour, claps of thunder and lightning sounding from the brewing storm clouds.

Finally, she reached a massive mountain covered in its own jungle of trees.

Each filled with tree huts made from bone and hide, sometimes laden with bronze, at each tree's base a large cluster of huts.

Most of the trees were on fire and those that weren't were going to be.

Zeyla lept, jumped and dodged as she climbed the mountain towards the sound of the dragon’s roaring.

Right at the moment she is about to enter the flames, a cold blistering wind filled with snowflakes spread out from her.

The cold wind spread out from her body quelling the flames and covering the area in a thick layer of frost.

While she moves further toward the mountain's summit, the cold wind spread ahead of her in all directions putting out the flames.

She reached the summit a massive fire dragon feasting on ashes and the corpses of her fallen brethren.

Zeyla threw her enchanted spear Frost Thorn at the dragon.

Usually, dragons are protectors most dragons carrying intelligence and a sense of duty to protect Origin, but this one was like a mindless beast.

The dragon roared as the spear pierced its hide, frost quickly spreads across its body only stopping at its right shoulder, most of it covering its rib cage.

Zeyla charges at the fire dragon its eyes glaring at her in rage.

Her left hand charging with a spiraling whirlwind of mana condensing into a deep blue sphere.

An orange glow fills the fire dragon's chest traveling up its neck and exiting its mouth in a torrent of flames.

Zeyla throws her hand forward spewing forth blue flames of mana from her palm into the dragon's breath, overpowering it's fire and engulfing the dragon in blue magic flames.

The magic cursed flames burned away everything the fire dragon had, not even it's ashes or mana remained.

Only Frost Thorn left behind untouched by Zeyla's magic.

The magic flames would've spread devouring everything in its path, only the overseers and guardians able to intervene, but with a flick of her wrist, the magic flames dispersed into mana.

Absorbing the excess mana her flames added to the aether, she extended her hand sucking it into her body.

She walks up to her enchanted bronze spear plucking it from the ground.

Slowly but surely the tribesman returned to their homes and life went on, in the Jungle of The Burning Palm.

………………………………………………………………………………

In the temperate forests of the Dwarven Mountains North of the Trones Kingdom's capital, a roar shook the snow still falling.

The humans may have named these mountains the Dwarven Mountains, but to the dwarves who live there, these mountains only have one name.

The Iron Hills.

Right now A single male dwarf covered in wolf fur and iron armor stands outside a cavern on the edge of a mountain's cliff.

“ERRRRRRAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHGHHHH!!!!!”

The dragon’s roar again shook the ground causing several avalanches on nearby mountains surrounding the hills and cliffs outstretched before the dwarf.

In the not so far distance after the hills and cliffs is a large town surrounded by three mountains.

The large town only an extension of the massive city within those three mountains and below their grounds.

Above the town, a fire dragon spewed fire down at them, its body like a tiny red speck buzzing around in the distance.

Ivar of House Oxfist had just asked all he could within his underground city if they would come with him to help aid Meadgard who is under attack by a dragon, but no one would.

Now he stood on the edge of the cliff in front of his city's entrance, his feet still in place the only thing holding him back, fear, as he stared at that little red dot buzzing about in the distance.

Making up his mind he pushed beyond the fear taking a step and turning to his right to go down the stairs, starting his trek towards Meadgard.

Slowly but surely he made it through the cliff and hills in half a day now standing at the edge of the rough landscape.

He saw the smoke rising from the burnt and charred buildings as the fire dragon feasted on the army sent to slay it.

Ivar trembled as he felt for his iron sword, the only thing at his waist his large dagger he usually carries as a precaution.

Ivar, “I forgot my sword.

Even with one how would I be able to slay a fire dragon.”

Falling to his knees he began praying to me of all people.

Seeing this I take less than a speck of my refined gold energy crystallizing it into a flat board like shape, I take a few specks of my black matter and some iron from Origin.

I weave the iron and my black matter specks together around the gold crystalized energy into a sword.

I take some of my raw blue energy which has a very high affinity to its very watered down version, mana.

Taking the raw blue energy I crystallize it placing it in the pommel, and along the hilt.

Finished I throw it down to Ivar's location, with my mind.

The sword falls from the sky stopping mid-air just before Ivar, gently floating before him.

Ivar stares at the sword in awe then offers a quiet prayer of thanks.

Ivar takes the sword in his hand resting the flat of the blade on his palm marveling at it as he names it, Ethereal’s Blade.

Walking into the almost completely destroyed town, Ivar points Ethereal's Blade at the dragon a sphere of dark blue energy forming at its tip.

The fire dragon halting its meal to look up at the sphere at the end of the blade, right before it enlarges and shoots towards him.

The sphere vaporizes the dragons head all the way down past its neck to its shoulders, the rest of its body charred black just from the radiation coming off of the blue energy.

The sphere somehow luckily misses the three mountains behind the dragon, but hits a far off mountain in the distance, obliterating it before dispersing itself into the materials left behind in that area.

Ivar pokes the dead dragon's corpse with Ethereal's Blade as more dwarves come out of the woodwork, all to confirm the fire dragon's death.

Ivar of House Oxfist would forever be known among the dwarves as a great hero, and the first dwarf to slay a dragon.