The massive golden dragon extended one elegant claw. Using its two slender front digits with surprising delicacy—like someone lifting a fragile feather—it gently picked up the constantly struggling and snapping little green dragon. The tiny creature writhed stubbornly, baring its small fangs, but the golden dragon simply moved it aside with care and let out a low, soothing rumble.
The sound echoed softly through the cavern.
At that moment, Karl El, Geralt, Natasha, Doregar, and the two sisters, Tia, approached. Nedamir did not follow them. His expression had turned grim as he separated from the group, hurrying off to assess the casualties and damage suffered by what remained of his nearly ruined Dragon Hunting Squad.
The air inside the cave was thick—not just with dust and lingering magic—but with tension.
Geralt crouched beside the fallen Green Dragon. His sharp, cat-like eyes examined it carefully. The great beast lay sprawled on the ground, breathing shallowly. Each inhale seemed strained, as if the air itself resisted entering its lungs. Its emerald scales, once vibrant and gleaming, now appeared dull and lifeless.
Geralt gently lifted one heavy eyelid.
The pupil was unfocused.
He examined the dragon's partially exposed tongue and frowned. Dark, vein-like black patterns streaked across its surface.
"These are clear signs of poisoning," Geralt said at last, rising to his feet. His voice was calm, but grave. "And not a mild toxin. This is potent. It has already spread deep into the bloodstream."
He paused briefly before continuing.
"There are no prepared herbs here for me to brew an antidote. And—"
His gaze swept over the enormous body of the dragon.
He didn't finish the sentence, but everyone understood. Even if the proper herbs could somehow be found, the dosage required for a creature of this size would be enormous. Gathering enough in a short time would be nearly impossible.
Geralt turned toward the two spellcasters.
"Natasha. Doregar. You are sorcerers. Can magic help? A healing spell, perhaps? Something to neutralize the toxins?"
Natasha stepped forward slowly. Her sharp violet eyes studied the dragon's weakened form. Then she glanced briefly at the little dragon cub, who was still stubbornly trying to bite the golden dragon's heel in futile defiance.
She sighed softly.
"I'm sorry, Geralt," she said, shaking her head. "Spells are powerful, but they are not omnipotent. Healing magic can mend wounds—broken flesh, torn muscle, damaged bone. But toxins are different."
She folded her arms.
"When poison has already entered the blood and begun affecting the organs, magic has very limited effect. At best, I might delay the symptoms. I cannot cleanse something this deeply embedded."
Doregar nodded solemnly.
"Lady Natasha is correct," he added. "To expel something this potent, one needs either a specific antitoxin or extraordinary metabolic resilience."
He glanced at the dragon's labored breathing.
"If we attempt to purge the poison with raw magic, we might overstimulate the body and accelerate organ failure."
Borchi had remained silent until now.
The golden dragon stood slightly apart from the group, its long tail flicking restlessly against the stone floor. Though it possessed its own healing abilities, it understood the limitations. Magic that restored flesh could not easily cleanse corrupted blood.
Its tail flicked faster.
Frustration.
Anxiety.
Karl El, however, had not spoken.
He stood quietly with arms crossed, his expression thoughtful. His clairvoyant perception had already examined the Green Dragon from the inside out. He had observed the faint heartbeat, the reduced lung efficiency, the sluggish circulation. Undigested remains in the stomach still emitted powerful toxic reactions. The detoxification organs were strained—overworked beyond their limits.
Yet something else caught his attention.
The damage was not permanent.
The organs were failing temporarily, not collapsing irreversibly.
This was not structural destruction—it was overload.
The dragon had ingested a massive dose of toxin specifically designed for large creatures. Its body simply could not metabolize it fast enough. The poison had flooded the system, overwhelming its natural defenses.
But the underlying vitality remained intact.
"It's deeply poisoned," Karl El thought calmly. "But not beyond recovery. The body needs time. If the detoxification organs can stabilize, it will heal on its own."
After reaching his conclusion, Karl El cleared his throat deliberately.
The sound drew everyone's attention.
He offered a faint, unreadable smile.
"I have carefully examined its condition," he said casually. "And I have two pieces of news."
He paused for effect.
"One good. One bad. Which would you prefer to hear first?"
Borchi immediately snapped its head toward him. Golden eyes locked onto Karl El.
"This is not the time for riddles!" the dragon growled impatiently. "Tell us the good news first!"
Geralt said nothing, but his gaze remained fixed on Karl El.
Natasha arched one eyebrow.
Karl El shrugged lightly under the weight of their attention.
"The good news," he said at last, "is that it will not die from this poisoning."
Relief flickered across Doregar's face.
Natasha exhaled quietly.
Borchi's tense posture eased slightly.
"And the bad news?" Doregar asked cautiously.
Karl El's lips curved upward.
"The bad news is… it might starve to death."
Silence.
Utter silence.
Geralt's expression did not change. His golden eyes simply stared at Karl El, as if silently confirming a private suspicion: Of course.
Natasha blinked once.
Tia and her sister exchanged bewildered glances.
Several invisible "black lines" might as well have appeared across their foreheads.
Borchi stared blankly.
It had braced itself for devastating words—irreversible organ failure, impending death, some unspeakable magical curse.
Instead, it received… this.
The dragon coughed awkwardly, releasing a small burst of sparks.
Karl El allowed the joke to linger only briefly before his tone shifted.
"I'm serious," he continued. "It cannot hunt. It cannot exert itself. Until the toxins are fully purged, its strength will remain suppressed."
He folded his arms again.
"It will require constant care. Food brought to it. Protection from predators. Monitoring to ensure the detoxification process continues safely."
He looked directly at Borchi.
"This may take half a month. Perhaps longer."
Before he could continue, Borchi stepped forward decisively.
"I will take care of it."
Its voice was firm.
"I am its kin. I understand its habits. I can protect it. I will remain until it fully recovers."
The golden dragon instinctively straightened its posture, lifting its chest despite the still-healing wound there. Sunlight filtering through cracks in the cavern ceiling shimmered across its renewed golden scales.
It looked almost… radiant.
Almost theatrical.
Karl El blinked once.
Then he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"If you intend to court," he said dryly, "please choose a more appropriate time and location."
Natasha covered her mouth to suppress a smile.
Doregar turned his head away.
Even Geralt's lips twitched faintly.
Borchi stiffened.
"I am not—"
Karl El waved dismissively.
"Yes, yes. Brave guardian. Devoted protector. Very noble."
He stepped forward before the dragon could protest further.
"Let's focus."
Karl El raised his right hand.
Golden light gathered in his palm.
It was warm. Pure. Radiant.
Like holding a miniature sun.
The air itself seemed to shimmer as immense life energy condensed into a luminous sphere. The cavern walls reflected the glow, casting long shadows that danced across the stone.
With a gentle motion, Karl El extended his hand.
A stream of soft golden light flowed outward, enveloping both dragons.
The energy washed over Borchi first.
The partially healed wound across its chest responded instantly. Flesh knit together at visible speed. Torn muscle fused. Scabbed tissue dissolved into healthy new skin beneath gleaming scales.
Borchi inhaled sharply.
Strength returned like a rising tide.
The golden light then shifted toward the Green Dragon.
It did not forcefully purge the toxin.
Instead, it stimulated vitality.
The dragon's sluggish heartbeat grew stronger.
The strained lungs expanded more steadily.
The overwhelmed detoxification organs began functioning more efficiently, as though granted renewed stamina.
Karl El did not eradicate the poison—he empowered the body to fight it.
The Green Dragon's breathing stabilized.
Its dull scales regained a faint shimmer.
Though still weak, the signs of collapse faded.
Natasha stared in open astonishment.
"That level of life manipulation…" she murmured.
Doregar's expression turned deeply respectful.
Geralt watched silently, eyes sharp.
The golden stream gradually faded.
Karl El lowered his hand.
"That will accelerate recovery," he said calmly. "But it still needs rest."
Borchi stepped closer to the Green Dragon protectively.
The little dragon cub cautiously approached as well, sniffing its parent before curling near its side.
For the first time since the battle, the tension inside the cavern began to dissipate.
Karl El dusted off his hands lightly.
"There," he said. "Two pieces of good news."
Natasha crossed her arms again.
"I believe you already gave us one good and one bad."
Karl El smiled faintly.
"The first good news was that it won't die. The second is that recovery has just become much faster."
Geralt gave a low grunt.
"And the bad news?"
Karl El glanced toward the cavern entrance, where sunlight streamed in.
"The bad news," he said quietly, "is that this was no accident."
The group fell silent again.
Poison that potent.
Designed for dragons.
Delivered in such quantity.
Someone had planned this.
Borchi's golden eyes darkened.
The Green Dragon might survive.
But whoever had orchestrated this—
Would not escape consequences.
And somewhere beyond the cavern, the winds shifted, carrying with them the promise of future reckoning.
For more chapters
patreon.com/Robertt45