“Latludious lied to us, that son of a bitch,” Mercyaa cursed, “They said they weakened the dragon, but it hits off multi-ton concrete balls like ping-pong balls, and swallows spells.”

“The Top Secret wants us all to die here. That way they’ll force the High Officers to go through the dungeon,” Rdrag replied. “For there will be no turning back for them.”

“Yes. After this, we can’t raise a new army in a short time. Damn it! I knew it! We should’ve cancelled the scouting mission.”

Hebanyac sat in a lotus pose, unmoving, watching what was happening: the tongues of flame, the weak spells of the mages, who seemed to speak directly about their hopelessness, the thousands of dead deserters and the ridiculous course of the battle.

“Beating babies,” he said.

***

The dragon walked toward Zeeaa and her squad and said something, exhaling smoke. Ghoton wrinkled his nose and texted Lettarongan and Bernavi. They were halfway there.

“You have two minutes to recover your mana!” he said. “There will be no more rest. Get ready.”

Zeeaa, distract the dragon for a few minutes. We’ll try to get rid of it in the next attack, Ghoton texted her.

She read the message and looked around at her weakened warriors and burst out laughing madly. Everyone looked at her, heads bowed.

“I’m ready,” someone said, “to accept what I can’t change.”

Zeeaa staggered back and felt the dragon talking to her through telepathy. Yet she did not understand what it wanted to tell her.

“Well, fuck you, asshole,” she said and concentrated the magic of the lightning element in her hand and released the charge into the monster’s face.

The dragon did not swallow the spell, but dodged it in a jump back. Ghoton noticed that.

“I’ll be damned,” he said, and turned to his squad, still in one piece. “Are you ready?”

“One more minute, sir,” they replied.

Ghoton nervously watched what was happening in the central square.

The dragon gathered all its firepower and unceremoniously let loose a stream of fire, dense and searing. Zeeaa stared at it in horror, then gathered her spirits and created a magical shield with a cry of “Don’t get your hopes up!” Her hands shook, her breath caught, and she had a gag reflex in her throat. Just a little longer and she would not make it.

“Help, you bastards!” She shouted, but everyone was lying on the ground, unmoving.

They stared at the dragon’s might with dead eyes and waited for their fate.

Ghoton kept pushing up the mages in his squad and watching the time. The last ten seconds. He turned to them and said:

“It’s time. We can’t wait any longer.”

There was another explosion. Ghoton turned back and saw the central square covered in fire and lava. No one had survived. Zeeaa went off line.

“Fuck!”

***

The army of the western fortress numbered up to a thousand soldiers. They, led by Lettarongan, ran eastward to the aid of the fortress of Varnasosto. Reaching the midway point, the military commander received a message from Ghoton and gestured for his warriors to stop. Beside him stood his nearest entourage: Jack, Dora, Ramzai and Bellona.

“What happened?” Jack asked.

“It’s time to make the hard decisions,” Lettarongan replied.

Noon did not differ from evening. The sun’s rays pierced thin lines through the dark blue clouds to the south. From the direction of Orodrim Eoul, thunder sounded and the first lightning flashed. The dwarf trees, standing fifty yards apart, dotted the Grasy plain. Sharp-brushed black rocks peeked out through the greeneries on the hills. A fog was coming in from the forest side, and from the fortress side a dozen bonfires soared toward the sky and encompassed more and more territory turning into fiery tornadoes. Burning red sparks rained down on the rocky surface of the plateau. Anything that could burn there burned. The smoke made it hard to see what was going on inside the fortress, but it looked as if the very gates to hell had opened.

The soldiers of the Western Army whispered among themselves, not fully Graping the extent of the disaster. Fear and doubt sprouted in their hearts. They stood in lines, weapons behind their backs, and the thought that three days ago 80% of them could not use magic, and now they had to fight a dragon.

An idea occurred to Lettarongan. He told it to Ghoton and ordered his men to stretch out along the plain.

“Jack, you have the first unit under your command. Dora, you have the second, Ramsay the third, and Bellona the fourth. Spread out at a sufficient distance from each other.”

“Lettarongan,” said Dora, “it’s not a good idea to fight a dragon on the plains. We have no cover here.”

“It’s the only chance we have to save those fighting in that furnace.”

“Do you want to sacrifice your people for others?” Ramzai asked.

The military commander spat and did not take his eyes off Varnasosto, which looked like an erupting volcano.

“There are no outsiders here. All the players in this battle are ‘ours’.”

“The people behind you trust you. Not Ghoton or Gra or Zeeaa, but you. If you start a battle here, they’ll feel betrayed. Because your idea is a pure suicide,” said Ramzai. “Didn’t you tell us there’s nothing more valuable than life? This game is an imitation of reality, so why not act on what you would do if it weren’t a game?”

Lettarongan spat and asked:

“Are you suggesting we fight in that fiery bathhouse? By the time we get there, there’ll be no one left to save. We have good mages in every squad. They’ll use the protective dome, and the other squads will attack at that point. It’ll be the perfect defense. Besides, we’re in open territory, not in a cage like there. We have room to manoeuvre. The main thing is not to be afraid.”

“He’s right,” Jack said. “That’s what we’ll do.”

Ramsay closed his eyes and nodded.

“How many people died up there?” asked Dora.

“It’s easier to say who is left. Five hundred players, to put it optimistically.”

***

All machine gunners retreat to the east gate. We’ll cover you! Ghoton wrote.

Then the attack squad officer turned to the mages and told the military commander’s plan.

“And how do we do that?”

The dragon staggered toward the mages on the heated ground, surrounded by pillars of flame and smoke. It felt as if death itself was encroaching on them. One could feel it, hear its rumbling footsteps and the heat of its breath, but could not move. Four dozen mage eyes fixed on the lizard-like figure of approaching terror. The machine gunners retreated, circling in an arc around the fire-breathing creature. The dragon tried to crush them but collided with the magical defense. Ghoton, standing ahead of the others, suddenly heard someone’s voice in his head.

Khdrzon em fon zscks.

The dragon... he’s talking to me.

The officer tried to answer him and asked: “What do you want?” The monster stopped moving and attacked the retreating men. One mage lost his nerve and shouted: “He’s preparing for a deadly attack!” and jumped down from the wall and tried to cushion his fall with magic, but it did not work, and he crashed. Several others followed him and only one was lucky enough to survive, but his legs, spine, and ribs were broken. At first, he felt nothing, but after a minute, he screamed and pressed the self-destruct button.

“Officer, can you elaborate?” they asked him again.

Ghoton ordered everyone to wait and spoke to the dragon, though he understood nothing. He went forward and descended the marching stairs, skirting the crumbling metal beams from time to time, and headed toward the volcano’s mouth. His comrades, who did not understand what was happening, shouted behind him. They stood and stared in his wake.

“I hope he knows what he’s doing.”

“I’ll be damned if he doesn’t. The dragon stopped attacking!”

“Ghoton is an amazing man, after all.”

While the mages perked up, and waited for new instructions, the officer opened the HUD and went into the suit settings and activated the emergency mode to maintain a cool body temperature. He stopped ten yards away from the monster without stopping his telepathic monologue. Ghoton knew the dragon could hear him. They stood in front of each other for several minutes before the officer shouted: “So what do we do next?” and spread his arms, trying to gesture at his incomprehension. The dragon stretched its serpentine neck forward, and its head was a few centimetres away from Ghoton’s face. Now everyone could see how small was the man compared to the enemy. The attack squad officer was not even tall enough to reach the smallest fang. The monster snorted, smoke billowing from its nostrils. Yet the officer did not flinch, did not move, stared into the creature’s eye, through the protective glass that was almost completely covered in soot and dust.

Cumulonimbus clouds covered the sky. The first lightning flashed, and the first cold drops fell to the ground. Although the sun had not yet finished its day’s journey, ruthless darkness filled the battlefield. Fire had defected and betrayed man, becoming a staunch ally of chaos and destruction. The rot beneath his feet. Ashes, sparks, dirt, pebbles-all swirled in a black tornado and crashed into the officer’s protective suit. It sounded as if someone was drumming on his helmet with all his might.

The dragon stood on its two hind legs and roared and joined its hands in a lock. A strange black sphere appeared between its palms, the emptiness of which it filled with its fiery breath. Then a bright flash blinded everyone around him. When the familiar darkness returned, Ghoton saw the dragon holding a staff with a fiery tip. He held out the gift to the officer of the attack squads. The mages on the wall gasped in surprise.

***

Lettarongan checked the readiness of the units and waited for Ghoton to act, but he stopped answering him, although he was online.

Ramsay, the military commander, said in the voice chat for the western army leadership; we need to signal to the fortress soldiers we are ready. Have your units send a couple of lightning bolts into the central square.

Yes, Sir.

Ramzai turned to his men, and in a commanding voice, gave the orders. When asked how they would not accidentally miss and hit their own, he replied that there was a new feature in the HUD called “Artillery,” the icon to the left-centre of the world map, and added:

“Highlight the location, a circle will appear there - this is the kill zone, adjust so that lightning will not, under any circumstances, fall near the east wall, then close the interface and get ready. You will have a point on the horizon, where to direct the lightning, it’s a sure deal.”

The third squad of mages nodded, made their adjustments, and got ready. Ramzai started the countdown and on “three” all two hundred and fifty mages fired.

***

Ghoton heard a prolonged crackling sound that grew as if a missile was about to fall on them. The officer reached out to take the staff and saw several magical bolts of lightning strike the dragon’s back and several more crashed into the eastern wall. The mages shuddered with open eyes and mouths and cursed as one. Five were dead. Ghoton jumped back with a cry of “Fuck!”, anticipating the enemy’s next action. A fireball exploded where he had been standing a few seconds before. The gift shattered, and the dragon roared in anger. A thin stream of blood gushed from its mouth. The veins in its eyes burst.

“Fucking hell! Fuck! Fuck! No!” shouted an annoyed Ghoton and ran back to the wall and ordered the mages to use Tsunami and get water out of the flasks.

The players of the Top Secret guild trusted the leader and followed the order without further questions or delay. A huge 32.8 feet tall wave rushed forward with unimaginable speed, washing away everything in its path, leaving behind hissing foam. The dragon unleashed flames as a counterbalance, but for the first time, its strength was insufficient.