Chapter 68: The Second Battle of Cutthroat Isle (Part 2)
The Stepstones, Cutthroat Isle Main Island
"Screech..."
Above the battlefield of Cutthroat Isle's main island, a beautiful falcon was soaring continuously in the clear sky, aided by the sea breeze. Its silhouette appeared exceptionally vigorous under the sunlight.
Its wings were broad and powerful, each flap seemingly carrying the sound of whistling wind. Since everyone on the ground was fighting, no one noticed this small black dot constantly changing its position in the sky.
The falcon's gaze, sharp as an arrow, looked down at the battlefield below, as if it could perceive everything. A cold light flickered in its eyes, revealing a disregard for life.
Perhaps in its simple understanding, this act of humans killing their own kind was truly difficult for it to comprehend.
In its sight, the two sides slaughtering each other on the battlefield were as busy as ants. Their shouts and the clashing of metal intertwined, forming a tragic symphony.
The falcon's feathers gleamed with a metallic luster under the sun, fitting tightly together to provide it with perfect protection.
After flying over the battlefield for a while, the falcon suddenly tucked its wings and swooped down like a feathered arrow toward the pirate fortress below.
While still dozens of meters away from a certain room's window, the falcon quickly spread its wings to decelerate. It then carved a beautiful parabola in front of the pirate fortress and flew into Jon's bedroom at extreme speed.
Due to the destroyed glass windows, Jon's bedroom felt somewhat damp. Although the sea breeze had dispersed the bloody humidity, Jon still seemed to sense that twisted creature capable of making goat-like cries.
During that eerie storm earlier, a terrifying creature hidden behind the tempest had launched an attack on Jon's true body from some warped and unseen plane.
Although the opponent's attack was powerful, the dragon Jon had transformed into blocked all the assaults like a guardian spirit.
Jon did not know that all of this was actually related to him. Ever since he had broken certain seals deep beneath the black stone ruins he once explored, many subtle changes had begun to ripple through the world.
Magic was not newly born in this age, but long dormant. The return of dragons, the awakening of skinchangers, the flickering of glass candles in faraway towers—these were signs that the old powers were stirring once more.
Jon's interference had accelerated what might otherwise have taken generations to unfold.
The cause of all this was the mysterious system within Jon's body. Because of his actions, powers long silent since the days of Valyria seemed to be returning.
And that terrifying presence making goat-like cries within the storm was something ancient and malign, a being tied to blood and sacrifice. Though formidable, it had still faltered before the dragon Jon had become.
Moreover, this was Jon's domain. Whatever creature dared intrude here would find itself unwelcome.
"These should be the last of the pirates. Good. We'll finish them all this time."
Looking at the falcon perched upon the hawk stand, Jon spoke softly.
After reaching Level 10 as a Dragonlord, Jon's skinchanging ability had advanced significantly. Now he could share vision with far more creatures.
In some ways, it resembled the ancient arts attributed to Valyrian blood mages, who were said to see distant lands through burning glass candles. Jon's current power was like a fusion of skinchanger and blood magic.
As his words fell, a diamond-shaped crystal resembling dragonglass appeared in his hand.
"Consume 10,000 points of blood magic energy to summon Giant Poison Spiders?"
"Yes."
After selecting "Yes," twisted magical circles appeared around Jon. Immediately afterward, five terrifying Giant Poison Spiders—each roughly the size of Ghost—materialized beside him.
After completing the first summoning, Jon summoned twenty-five more Giant Poison Spiders. Because of their number, he was forced to direct the extras into the hallway.
Sam, who had been guarding the door, nearly collapsed to his knees in fright upon seeing these monstrous creatures. If Jon had not raised his class level earlier, Sam might truly have fainted.
"Clatter, clatter... Lord Jon! Wh-what are these things?"
Sam's teeth chattered as he stared at the spiders. At that moment, he regretted volunteering to stay behind.
Earlier, when assignments had been given, Sam had chosen to avoid direct battlefield command, preferring a safer post.
"They are summons. We face an enemy who hides behind strange powers. These will reduce our casualties."
Jon handed temporary command of the spiders to Sam.
Though not as swift as warhorses, the sight of a man riding such a creature was terrifying beyond measure. In tales of the Long Night, the Others were said to command monstrous ice spiders as large as hounds.
Having these creatures serve as heavy shock troops would be crucial. Through the falcon's vision, Jon had already seen the swelling pirate numbers at the docks.
Without intervention, a human-wave assault would eventually overwhelm their defenders.
"Go. Victory belongs to us. The pirates have bathed the Stepstones in blood for years. Today they will answer for it."
"Yes, Lord Jon!"
Though still frightened, Sam steadied himself as one of the spiders lowered its body before him.
With Jon's assistance, Sam received temporary control authority through the magic stone. This limited-duration item, worth 500 points, allowed him to issue commands to the summoned creatures.
"L-let's go!"
"Hiss, hiss..."
The spiders responded eagerly. Born of blood magic, they were creatures inclined toward slaughter.
Watching them fill the corridor, Jon put away the slightly dimmed magic stone. Its power, though immense, seemed constrained by unseen laws.
Jon had tested the limits. He could only maintain about fifty of the lowest-tier summons at once. As the strength of the summoned creature increased, the cap decreased proportionally.
However, once one batch perished, he could summon anew, provided he had sufficient blood magic energy.
It seemed the world itself enforced limits upon excessive magic.
"Perhaps one day I will break these shackles. But for now… let them taste the wrath of a dragon."
Jon drew forth his dragonstone.
The system interface appeared before him in the air.
"Consume 10,000 points of Dragon Soul power to activate dragon transformation?"
"Yes."
The dragonstone dissolved into crystalline light, engulfing him.
"Ah!..."
Even accustomed to the agony of transformation, Jon could not suppress the cry as his flesh stretched and tore.
Moments later, he leapt from the shattered window.
Wind roared past him as his body expanded mid-fall.
Just before striking the ground, black flames erupted around him.
A colossal shadow unfurled beside the pirate fortress.
The Cannibal.
A dragon of legend from the days before the Dance of the Dragons. Black-scaled from snout to tail, bristling with jagged spines. Emerald eyes burned with predatory intelligence, and dark green dragonfire curled constantly between its fangs.
A hunger churned in Jon's belly.
The scent of blood rising from the battlefield stirred something primal within him.
"Roar!"
With a thunderous beat of wings, he rose skyward, unintentionally tearing shingles from a nearby tower.
The wind battered him as he climbed higher, but the hunger only intensified.
With a powerful sweep of his wings, the black dragon turned toward the rear of the pirate fleet.
Another massacre was about to begin upon Cutthroat Isle.
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