The dragon-beasts.
The young drakes.
The half-dragon warriors.
The enemies that had appeared one after another left Lewis genuinely impressed.
He hadn't expected this black dragon to possess so many methods for creating cannon fodder in addition to its own combat power.
Of course, all those minions had been wiped out by the joint Blizzard cast by him and Jaina.
But that was only because they had run into someone like Lewis.
Against ordinary wizards—or worse, Muggle police and soldiers—their superhuman physiques and extraordinary defenses would have caused enormous trouble.
The dragon had only been here a few days.
Yet it had already built up a force like this.
If it were allowed to settle permanently, Lewis had no doubt it would eventually create an entire army.
A black dragon capable of such things…
If its raw strength weren't lacking, Lewis might have suspected it was that famous troublemaker.
The daughter of Deathwing.
The Black Dragon Princess who had single-handedly manipulated Stormwind from within.
Onyxia.
If the enemy really had been Onyxia, Lewis would have turned around and run without hesitation.
Fortunately, this dragon clearly wasn't her.
Even so, its destructive power remained terrifying.
The moment it roared, all four of them became alert.
They knew it was finally making its move.
The dragon crouched.
Then its massive body rose upright.
Its wings spread wide.
And flapped.
What did a sixteen-meter wingspan look like in motion?
It created gale-force winds.
Dust and debris exploded into the air.
Lewis and the others had to shield their faces.
Then the dragon launched itself skyward.
After circling once overhead, it dove straight toward them.
A classic dragon tactic.
Crush lesser beings through overwhelming physical superiority.
"Scatter!"
Lewis shouted.
He immediately sprinted sideways.
Jaina, Ciri, and Tonks also dodged.
Jaina and Tonks even employed their Phantom Step techniques.
In an instant, the four split apart.
Capac wasn't idle either.
He selected a target and charged while waving his wand.
The dragon's first attack missed.
But it wasn't discouraged.
Relying on its immense body, it rampaged across the battlefield, attacking anything within sight.
It had become the greatest threat on the field.
Every bite.
Every claw strike.
Every sweep of its tail.
Covered an enormous area.
To evade a single attack, Lewis often had to retreat five or six meters.
That drastically increased the difficulty of dodging.
Lewis and Ciri could manage.
Their physical abilities were exceptional enough.
Jaina and Tonks were another story.
Their agility simply wasn't sufficient.
Whenever the dragon targeted them, they were forced to burn mana using Phantom Step.
Once or twice wasn't a problem.
Repeated dozens of times?
That would exhaust them sooner or later.
Meanwhile, their own attacks were far less effective.
The dragon's innate magic resistance rendered many spells nearly useless.
Physical spells had to contend with thick dragon scales.
Dragons naturally resisted fire magic.
Most other spells struggled to penetrate their defenses.
Anything below high-level magic barely scratched them.
Tonks, in particular, had almost no way of harming it.
Ciri's Arcane Sword could pierce the scales.
But compared to the dragon's enormous vitality, her wounds were little more than paper cuts.
And every close-range attack placed her in tremendous danger.
Add Capac's interference.
Add the remaining tribesmen launching ranged attacks.
The battlefield quickly tilted against them.
The tribesmen had realized something important.
Their weapons couldn't harm the dragon anyway.
So they stopped caring about friendly fire.
Spears.
Blowguns.
Throwing weapons.
Everything was aimed at Lewis's group.
Even if they accidentally hit the dragon, who cared?
The goal was simply to drain magical shields.
Under this relentless pressure, the four found themselves completely on the defensive.
The only reason nobody had been injured yet was because Lewis's psionic senses monitored the entire battlefield.
Through their mental link, he continuously shared information with his teammates.
Every ally effectively gained eyes in all directions.
But that couldn't continue forever.
"We can't keep this up."
Watching the dragon prepare a breath attack, Lewis finally stopped holding back.
"Someone needs to pin that thing down."
His body suddenly began to expand.
Twisting.
Stretching.
Transforming.
A moment later, a magnificent feathered serpent appeared upon the battlefield.
Golden scales.
Radiant plumage.
Brilliant light.
The dazzling creature instantly became the center of attention.
The black dragon immediately noticed the glowing showoff.
Its gathering breath attack shifted toward Lewis at once.
The reactions of Capac and the tribesmen, however, were far more interesting.
The moment Lewis transformed, Capac's expression changed dramatically.
He instantly realized how devastating this would be to his authority.
Sure enough.
Looking around, he saw confusion spreading among the tribesmen.
After all, throughout ancient Central and South America, feathered serpents had long been associated with divinity.
Their beauty inspired reverence.
Their presence inspired worship.
Over centuries, Maya, Aztec, and Incan religions had gradually centered around feathered-serpent deities.
In the eyes of the tribes, feathered serpents were the true messengers of the gods.
The only reason Capac had managed to convince everyone the black dragon was a divine envoy was because nobody had seen a real feathered serpent for centuries.
Combined with his prestige, that had been enough.
But now?
The genuine article had appeared.
How was he supposed to explain that?
Forced into a corner, Capac shouted:
"Don't be deceived!"
"That creature is one of the traitorous shamans!"
"The fact that he can become a feathered serpent only proves he once served the Feathered Serpent God!"
"But he betrayed the god!"
"Even if he can transform, he doesn't represent Viracocha!"
Lewis had anticipated exactly this response.
Immediately, he activated Radiant Halo.
A shining golden crown appeared above his head.
Combined with the breathtaking beauty of his feathered-serpent form, he looked almost divine.
Then a gentle voice echoed directly inside every tribesman's mind.
"Children of Viracocha…"
"Do not be misled by the servants of evil."
"Learn to distinguish the power of the Feathered Serpent God from the power of demons."
"The Feathered Serpent God's power is sacred and healing."
"Demonic power reeks of sulfur and flame."
"It brings only destruction, fire, and famine."
"Demons are enemies of the gods."
"They may oppose divinity."
"But they can never become divine."
"Children of Viracocha…"
"Open your eyes."
"Return to the proper path."
"Only then will your souls rejoin your ancestors within the blessed gardens of Viracocha."
In feathered-serpent form, Lewis's psionic abilities became dramatically stronger.
Manipulating a group of religious fanatics was effortless.
At the same time, he beat his wings.
Warm golden light swept across the battlefield.
The wounded tribesmen who had survived the blizzard suddenly felt their injuries easing.
Cuts closed.
Pain faded.
Strength returned.
Mass Cure Light Wounds.
The spell perfectly embodied everything a feathered-serpent deity should represent.
Compassion.
Healing.
Benevolence.
The balance inside the tribesmen's hearts began shifting.
After all…
One side featured a radiant feathered serpent.
Covered in holy light.
Healing the wounded.
Looking exactly like every depiction of their god.
The other side?
A gigantic black dragon.
Covered in spikes.
Sporting horns.
Breathing fire.
Resembling every description of a demon imaginable.
Which one looked holy?
The answer was obvious.
Besides.
The Feathered Serpent God had always been associated with blessings and healing.
The black dragon's gifts transformed people into grotesque half-dragons.
Its flames scorched everything they touched.
Nothing about it resembled the legends.
A terrible realization dawned on them.
They had been serving a false god.
Slowly, the old chief rose to his feet.
Trembling.
Tears streaming down his face.
He stared at Lewis's feathered-serpent form with religious fervor.
"The true messenger has descended!"
"He has shown us the correct path!"
"He has healed our wounded despite our sins!"
"We have been forgiven!"
"As children of Viracocha, we cannot make the same mistake twice!"
"If we wish to earn the god's favor…"
"We must kill the true traitors!"
"We must destroy those who led us astray!"
"We must slay the servants of evil!"
"Only then can we repay Viracocha's mercy!"
The remaining warriors erupted into cheers.
Their weapons rose toward the sky.
The question now became:
Who was the traitor?
Hundreds of eyes slowly turned toward Capac.
"You…"
Capac pointed at the chief and screamed.
"You're abusing your authority for personal revenge!"
Unfortunately for him, nobody cared.
The old man's face turned pale.
Sweat rolled down his forehead.
Lewis and Jaina could massacre these half-dragons effortlessly.
Capac could not.
The next moment, the tribesmen charged.
Capac and the tribal warriors were no longer factors in the battle.
Lewis returned his attention to the black dragon.
They had never been the key to victory.
Only the dragon mattered.
Only killing it would truly end this battle.
With that thought, Lewis spread his brilliant wings and turned toward his greatest enemy.
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