Dragon Tournament Team Battle (5)
The two teams were about 500 meters apart.
The moment the horn blared, Leon and Dento, tasked with the assault, spurred their dragons forward.
Given the distance, closing the gap at low speed took priority.
“Ssaek!”
The Savannah Dragon ridden by Leon, the leader of the prince's team, flicked out its tongue and glared at the enemy.
Its ferocious momentum was so intimidating that the dragons of the 3rd Dragon Stable, far off in the distance, were already growling low in unease.
This Savannah Dragon hailed from the Black Continent across the southern seas.
The Black Continent featured vast plains known as savannas, where imperial dragon traders often sourced hatchlings.
Leon’s Savannah Dragon was one such specimen that had made its way to the Empire.
Yet no amount of human rearing from a young age could suppress its innate predator instincts.
Even now, it was burning with the urge to devour the small dragons of the distant 3rd Dragon Stable.
This excitement transmitted vividly to the small dragons of the 3rd, stirring unrest among them.
and the other spectators watched the scene unfold.
“Who do you think will win?”
“The prince's team will take it handily.”
“I agree.”
Everyone thought so, but disagreed.
“Finn, the leader of the 3rd Dragon Stable, is a tough one. It won't be easy.”
reacted with disbelief.
“They're commoners, not even proper Dragon Knights.”
“Russell, that's your problem—thinking like that. Talent doesn't care about birth. Do you think I handed the 3rd Dragon Stable to commoners for no reason?”
As predicted, Finn, leading the 3rd Dragon Stable, was determined to win this match.
“Everyone, stay calm and stick to the plan.”
“Understood.”
As Finn and his Dragon Riders remained composed, the agitated dragons gradually settled.
Owen watched from afar with interest.
Neither side has committed to attack or defense yet. I wonder how they'll play it?
Unlike Leon and Dento charging ahead for offense, the enemy huddled tightly together.
Perhaps all five planned to swarm the two at once.
Or try to pick them off one by one?
But they wouldn't fall for such an obvious ploy.
Leon and Dento advancing alone meant they were fine even if all five rushed them.
“Ah!”
Suddenly, three small dragons from the enemy veered left.
The left flank featured a ravine and stream passable only by small types.
They slipped into the ravine before anyone could react.
They're flanking to hit us with three.
The battle lines were set.
The enemy's formation left one medium dragon with the flag and one for defense—two in total.
With Leon and Dento pressing the attack, it became a medium dragon 2-on-2.
Leon aimed to crush the foe swiftly.
“Sir Dento! Charge!”
“Yes, sir!”
They were brimming with confidence.
The enemy mediums were old beasts ridden by commoners.
Their skills would flatten them quickly.
Emboldened, they charged their dragons.
“Kuaaaah!”
The thunderous roar shaking the plains, paired with the massive medium dragons' charge, was shocking.
Each step of their enormous feet tore up the green grass, turning the ground to black mud.
“Ooh!”
Nobles and citizens alike gasped in awe.
It cemented their belief: only dragons could halt a tidal wave of orcs.
No matter how fierce the orcs, a dragon charge would pulp them into meat.
“They're colliding!”
As someone shouted, both sides reared up on hind legs, grappling with forepaws and slamming shoulders.
Kuung!
The heavy thud of colossal bodies echoed across the plains.
Their hind claws skidded back, plowing the earth.
It resembled human wrestling.
Biting was strictly forbidden in these matches—far too lethal.
Dragons thus whipped tails like lashes, headbutted, or reared for grapples.
Quadrupeds by nature, their style was crude compared to humans, but using thick tails as braces to shove foes was spectacular.
“The defense is giving ground!”
Spectators cried out again.
The attackers held the edge from charging momentum.
The defenders strained, shoved back noisily.
“Good! Finish them!”
Leon shouted in excitement.
But his opponent was Finn, leader of the 3rd Dragon Stable.
Finn was the genius rider rated so highly.
He had anticipated this when Leon charged.
Skillfully maneuvering, he deflected the incoming force.
Twisting aside, he let Leon's momentum topple him.
“Kuek!”
Leon’s strutting Savannah Dragon lost balance.
It flailed to stay upright but tumbled forward spectacularly.
Kwaaaang!
With a deafening crash, the massive body rolled.
The crowd watched, palms sweating.
“Kueek!”
The fallen Savannah Dragon rose in fury.
Tough as dragons are, it was unscathed, but wary after the fall, it didn't charge immediately.
“Damn!”
Leon, panicked, pulled his dragon back.
He'd nearly been crushed beneath it.
The 3rd Dragon Stable claimed first blood.
What followed was a tail-whipping frenzy, yet remarkably, the 3rd held even.
Watching from afar, Owen marveled.
Amazing! Intimacy makes this much difference!
The 3rd's edge was high rider-dragon intimacy.
They moved as one being.
Finn's deft control was rare even in the Empire.
It let them match the prince's superior dragons.
Owen reflected anew on intimacy stats.
But the 3rd's dragons are old. Stamina will limit them.
Realizing this, Owen saw their plan: drag it out until their mediums tired, then strike.
That's when the flanking three will hit.
Time favored the prince's team.
Owen called to Huid on defense.
“Sir Huid! Three smalls are flanking via the ravine. They'll arrive soon.”
“I know!”
“Shall I head to the ravine and hold them off?”
“You alone against three? Your Grenville's small too—too much?”
“Grenville can breathe fire.”
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Flame attacks were banned in matches.
Threatening with fire was allowed, though.
No burns, but a blaze could shatter morale.
Low-intimacy dragons might flee.
Grenville's ability remained potent.
“Hmm...”
As Huid hesitated, Owen pressed.
“It's just to buy time. I'll delay them at the ravine!”
Reasonable, but Huid had other ideas.
Missed spotlight on defense. Perfect now—while Leon and Dento flail, I crush three foes. Heroic feat!
This was glory's stage.
, the prince, eastern lords—all watched.
Even Bris citizens packed the stands.
A standout performance would make his name.
Temptation clouded judgment.
“No need!”
“Pardon?”
“I can handle three smalls alone! You watch.”
Owen instantly read him.
Veteran of many matches.
Glory blinded many to sense.
But protesting felt awkward.
He was the prince's team tag-along; Huid's claim wasn't wrong.
Yet unease grew.
They know better? Black Thorn-Tail is fearsome among mediums. Three smalls can't win. So why come?
Something was up, but he couldn't guess.
The 3rd's smalls weren't exceptional—no special fire like Grenville.
Then the three emerged from the ravine.
“Here they come!”
Huid grinned, advancing his Black Thorn-Tail Dragon.
“Kieeeek!”
Its roar briefly deafened Owen.
Gray-bodied with black stripes, vicious face, dorsal spines—fierce tempered.
Three smalls were lucky to escape injury.
“Ventra! Hold position! I'll repel them!”
Riders couldn't leave their circle.
Fights near the circle allowed joint combat.
The 3rd had met Leon and Dento thus.
Glory-blind Huid left Alania in her circle and charged.
“Come on!”
He angled his dragon for a tail sweep to broom them.
Textbook: medium tails swept smalls easily.
Thus predictable.
The leader of the three shouted.
“Ready what we brought!”
“No problem!”
“Toss and retreat!”
Each small dragon bore a bulky saddlebag.
Owen spotted them, alarmed.
What the hell?
Ominous hunch flashed.
Too late to warn—their move was swift.
They halted, unslung bags, dragons bit and hurled them forward.
Whiiing.
Three leather packs flew like catapult shots.
Heavy-looking, yet dragon-flung far.
Black Thorn-Tail instinctively tail-whipped them.
Thwack! Puk! Thwack!
The whip-tail burst them midair.
Contents sprayed: black powder.
Owen realized.
“No way...”
He prayed wrong.
But irony struck.
“Krrng! Sniff! Sniff!”
The Black Thorn-Tail suddenly sniffed, tongue out for scent.
“Kuek!”
Odd reaction hit.
Neck swelling, head twitching.
Owen's hunch confirmed.
“Trouble...”
Clever foes exploited its rut.
How they knew? The prince's villa incident was secret.
Its rut was fading anyway.
Reactivating needed same-species female scent.
But not impossible.
The bags held the key.
“Damn.”
Owen clicked his tongue.
The increasingly aroused Black Thorn-Tail fretted over scattered powder scents.
Owen guessed: powdered dried female droppings or shed skin.
How procured? Mystery.
“Impressive. Really.”
No time to admire.
The frenzied dragon would rampage.
“Retreat!”
As predicted, foes fled to ravine.
“Krrrng! Sniff!”
Missing targets, it scanned.
Huid strained control—futile.
Turning, it spotted Alania.
Owen cursed inwardly.
“Oh no!”
Alania's dragon was female.
Normally, rut ignored other species.
But aroused now.
It might lash out, realizing not same kind.
Problem: Alania was rider-bound to circle.
Critical crisis.
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