Marcus looked down on the dragon and saw that it wasn't moving anymore. He heaved a sigh of relief. It took three Javelin missiles to defeat a dragon that a bunch of high-ranking adventurers couldn't bring down even after pushing themselves to their limits.
"…That's one way to end it," he muttered.
Below, the smoke slowly settled.
The dragon's massive body lay sprawled across the ruined street, its wings twisted at unnatural angles, its chest torn open from the final blast. The fire that once surrounded it had died down, replaced by scattered embers and rising heat.
Marcus kept the launcher on his shoulder, still watching.
"…Hold position," he said. "I want visual confirmation."
"Copy," the pilot replied.
The helicopter adjusted slightly, hovering at a steady angle above the city.
Below, Seraphine stepped forward first.
Her bow remained raised, an arrow already nocked as she approached the fallen dragon.
