It was now the second week since Lynn and the others had arrived at the Dragon Sanctuary.
Morning sunlight filtered through the cracks in the cliffs, scattering patches of golden light across the grass before the camp. On the distant rock faces, several Dragons lay sunbathing with their wings half-spread.
The air carried a mingled scent of grass, soil, and Dragon dung.
The three of them—Lynn, William, and Ollie—had gradually become accustomed to the Dragon Sanctuary's alternating rhythm of frantic busyness and complete idleness.
When they were busy, they worked from dawn until dusk, sometimes having to squeeze in time even for meals.
Dragons did not pick convenient times to fight. They fought in the morning, at noon, at night, and sometimes even in the middle of the night. Whenever a fight broke out, the Dragon Keepers had to rush over, either breaking them apart or treating the injured afterward.
Although Lynn and his friends did not need to intervene in the fights themselves, they handled more than enough treatment work.
Those Dragons that fell from the sky—some had broken wings, some were covered in bite wounds, and others had been burned beyond recognition.
The three of them would crouch beside the injured creatures, applying bottle after bottle of Potion, feeding them bottle after bottle of Potion, and working for hours at a time until they could barely straighten their backs.
When things were quiet, however, there was nothing to do all day.
The Dragons would lie lazily upon the cliffs, too tired to move. The Dragon Keepers gathered in groups to chat, play cards, and drink. Lynn and his friends would sit on the rocks outside the camp, staring blankly at the distant cliffs, flipping through the books they had brought, or simply taking a nap.
During these days, they had earned a full two hundred and fifty Galleons just by selling the defective materials they had collected.
Of course, calling them "defective" was a bit unfair.
Their quality was not bad at all.
Charlie had helped them find buyers.
Merchants frequently came to the sanctuary to purchase Dragon materials. Charlie knew them well and understood who offered fair prices and who had the best reputation.
When he showed Lynn and the others' materials to the merchants, their eyes immediately lit up. They paid without a word.
"The quality of this batch of Dragon scales is truly excellent," said a chubby merchant, holding up the largest scale and inspecting it over and over. "Although there's a crack, the overall quality is impeccable. I haven't seen Dragon scales this good in half a year."
"And these Dragon teeth..." Another, thinner merchant crouched on the ground and checked the broken teeth one by one. "Look at the texture. Look at the luster. These definitely came from a large Dragon. Once ground into powder, their medicinal effect will be at least thirty percent stronger than ordinary Dragon teeth."
In the end, the materials sold for two hundred and fifty Galleons.
Lynn took one hundred and fifty, while William and Ollie each received fifty.
It was not that Lynn was greedy. He had obtained most of the materials in the first place, while William and Ollie had mainly assisted with the work. Receiving fifty Galleons each was already an excellent outcome for them.
Even Ollie became a little reluctant to return home.
He truly liked the feeling of earning a large amount of Galleons without relying on his family.
But all good things had to come to an end.
On the final day of the second week, the Dragons engaged in their fiercest and longest-lasting melee yet.
The battle began early in the morning.
Lynn was woken by a Dragon's roar. The sound was so loud that the entire camp seemed to tremble. He crawled out of his sleeping bag, rubbed his eyes, and glanced through the window.
It was not even dawn yet.
On the distant cliffs, dozens of Dragons were circling, chasing, and fighting in the sky.
Flames erupted against the darkness, illuminating half the heavens. The roars of Dragons rose and fell in relentless waves, like a thunderstorm that refused to end.
"It's starting again," William's voice came from the sleeping bag beside him, full of helplessness.
"This time feels different," Lynn said, staring out the window with a slight frown.
And it really was different.
In the previous melees, no matter how intense things became, there were always some Dragons watching from the sidelines.
But this time, every Dragon had joined the battle. From the moment the first Dragon took flight to the moment the last one entered the fray, only a few minutes had passed.
Lynn did not know what had triggered this all-out war, but he could feel that today, everything would reach a conclusion.
The number of injured Dragons in this battle surpassed every previous fight.
Large numbers of Dragons fell from the sky.
Lynn did not close his eyes from the early morning onward.
He followed Charlie and Newt, running across the battlefield, applying Potion, feeding Potion, and cleaning wounds for the injured Dragons.
Bottle after bottle of Potion was used up.
Box after box of bandages was emptied.
Bucket after bucket of fresh water was gone.
Yet the injured Dragons continued falling from the sky one after another, like dumplings being dropped into a boiling pot.
By the afternoon, Lynn's fingers were covered in ointment and blood. His clothes were stained with dirt and grass clippings, while his face was smeared with black-and-white soot from the smoke.
William and Ollie were no better off.
One lens of William's glasses had shattered, forcing him to squint as he worked. Ollie's left hand had been grazed by a Dragon, raising a patch of blisters, but he gritted his teeth and did not make a sound.
Now, even Lynn, who could usually find time to rest, had no opportunity to spare.
Until, near the end, only two Dragons remained in the sky.
One was a Hungarian Horntail.
The other was that Ukrainian Ironbelly.
These two were the strongest Dragons in the sanctuary.
The Hungarian Horntail was in its prime. Though it was not the largest, it was the fastest, most agile, and most ferocious attacker.
The Ukrainian Ironbelly, despite its age, was the largest, the most experienced, and the strongest.
They had rested for less than a day before beginning their battle over the highest cliff.
That final showdown began in the afternoon.
Most of the people gathered nearby, eager to see whether the old veteran would prevail or whether the newcomer would rise to the top.
If size alone were considered, the Ukrainian Ironbelly had a better chance of winning.
Its body was at least five meters longer than the Hungarian Horntail, while its wingspan was nearly ten meters wider. Its claws were larger, its teeth were thicker, and its tail was far more powerful.
If this had been a pure contest of strength, the Hungarian Horntail would not have stood a chance.
But reality never depended on only one factor.
The Ukrainian Ironbelly was truly old, while the Hungarian Horntail was in the prime of its life.
It had abundant stamina, quick reflexes, and vicious attacks. It knew it could not compete with the Ukrainian Ironbelly in raw strength, so it never attempted to do so from the very beginning.
Instead, it relied on speed.
It flew rapidly around the Ukrainian Ironbelly, darting left and right, up and down.
It did not collide head-on with the larger Dragon. Instead, it launched attacks from the flanks.
It would bite and run. Claw and fly away.
It never lingered, and it never engaged in a prolonged clash.
The Ukrainian Ironbelly was gradually exhausted by this tactic.
Every turn consumed an enormous amount of stamina. Every swipe of its claws required immense effort. Every time it breathed fire, it had to pant for a long while afterward.
Meanwhile, the Hungarian Horntail always found openings amid those turns. It would dodge the moment its opponent swiped its claws and retreat to safety whenever it breathed fire.
In less than three hours, the Ukrainian Ironbelly had been defeated by its own age.
It let out one final roar.
Then it fell from the cliff.
Its massive body tumbled through the air, its wings hanging limply at its sides. It crashed into the ground with a dull, thunderous impact, sending clouds of dust rolling outward.
The Hungarian Horntail stood atop the highest cliff, raised its head, and released a victorious roar.
The sound echoed through the valley in wave after wave, as if declaring to the entire world:
From today onward, this place belongs to me.
At the same time, the Romanian Dragon leadership election, which had lasted nearly three weeks, finally came to an end.
And at that very moment, Lynn finally made up his mind.
He would draw blood from that Ukrainian Ironbelly.
...
After saying goodbye to Charlie, who had still wanted him to stay longer, Lynn finally returned home.
When he pushed open the door, Dodo was busy in the kitchen.
The scent of stewed meat drifted from inside, mixed with the aroma of onions and carrots, making one instinctively swallow.
"Master, you're back."
Dodo poked his head out from the kitchen, glanced at him, and said, "You look like you've lost weight."
"I haven't." Lynn tossed his backpack onto the sofa. "I'm just tired."
He walked to the kitchen doorway and looked inside.
A pot of beef stew simmered on the stove, its lid half-open as steam rose through the gap. Several vegetables had been chopped on the cutting board beside it, every piece neat and evenly sized.
Dodo stood by the stove with a spoon in hand, tasting the broth.
"Dinner will be ready soon," Dodo said without turning around. "Master, if you're hungry, have some bread to tide you over."
Lynn gave a noncommittal grunt, walked to the dining table, and sat down. He took a piece of bread from the basket, broke it apart, and put it into his mouth.
The bread had been baked that morning. The crust was crisp, the interior soft, and it carried a faint sweetness of wheat.
Lynn chewed slowly, but his thoughts were already on the pot of fusion Potion.
Before he left, that cauldron of Potion had still been brewing.
Now that nearly two weeks had passed, it should be finished, right?
He swallowed the bread in a few bites, stood, walked to the corner of the living room, opened the lid of the trunk, and jumped inside.
Within the trunk, the lights of the Potion workshop were still on.
The cauldron remained on the stove. The fire beneath it had long gone out, and the liquid inside had completely cooled.
It was transparent, as clear as water, though much thicker. Perhaps too many things had dissolved into it.
It was just that the smell...
Not only had it not improved at all, but it seemed to have become even worse.
Lynn stood beside the cauldron and took a sniff.
Then he regretted it.
How should he describe that smell?
It was like someone had poured a barrel of pickled herring and a barrel of Norwegian lutefisk together, added several spoonfuls of cheese that had expired who knew how long ago, and then left the mixture under the sun for three days and three nights.
It was not merely unpleasant.
It was completely unbearable.
Lynn covered his nose and staggered back several steps. He felt as though the bread he had just eaten was about to return from his stomach.
At some point, Dodo had followed him inside and was now standing at the entrance of the workshop, pinching his nose.
"Master, the smell of this Potion is becoming more and more outrageous," Dodo said, his voice muffled through his fingers. "If you had not repeatedly emphasized how important this Potion was, I would have thrown it out already."
"You did the right thing." Lynn patted Dodo on the shoulder, then quickly walked to the workshop's ventilation system and opened it to full power.
A gust of fresh air rushed in, diluting the horrible stench in the workshop somewhat.
Lynn took a deep breath and felt as though he had come back to life.
He walked to the workbench and took out the bottle containing the Ukrainian Ironbelly's blood from his backpack.
Suppressing the urge to vomit, he dripped a single drop of the Ukrainian Ironbelly's blood into the Potion.
The drop sank into the transparent liquid.
Then it began to diffuse.
Like ink dropped into water, it spread slowly through the cauldron, forming a cloud of dark-red mist.
The mist churned, swirled, and condensed within the liquid.
Then—
It exploded.
A stench combining pickled herring and Norwegian lutefisk erupted from the Potion, at least ten times stronger than before.
It surged from the cauldron like an invisible monster, baring its fangs and brandishing its claws as it lunged into every corner of the workshop.
In that instant, Lynn forgot that he could hold his breath.
He took a deep breath.
Then his face turned green.
Dodo, still standing at the doorway, did not even have time to run before the smell hit him head-on. His face also turned green, and he froze in place as if petrified.
"Master..." Dodo's voice drifted weakly through the workshop. "Is this Potion... really drinkable?"
Lynn did not answer.
He was bent over the workbench, desperately trying to suppress the violent churning in his stomach.
He did not know whether this Potion was drinkable.
But he did know one thing.
If this was what the Potion smelled like, then he would need to prepare himself to die before drinking it.
Not from poisoning.
But from being disgusted to death.
---
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