Wild Dragon of Rome 52 (Patreon)

Once I broke through the first layer of the surround, I ran deeper into the valley, with the sorcerer and the cavalry behind me, and the shifter auxiliaries still gathering to cut my path … one that I deliberately started to reveal once more as I pushed the dragon heart to generate more mana, keeping it in a level that would allow the others to detect me, but not enough to prevent me from revert the transformation of my arm.

I needed them to believe my ability to conceal myself was temporary. I needed them to follow me, or I couldn’t lead them to an ambush, which was the only way I could hope to win against a sorcerer.

When the shifters had entered my range, running toward me, guided by their nose and the guidance of the horn signals, I focused on my arm turning it to a normal state. Before they burst into the opening, I dropped the bundle of spears down, and grabbed three of them with my left hand, with my gladius on the left.

“Surrender, and we’ll show mercy,” the one at the front had declared even as the others had spread around me, surrounding to attack me. There were eight of them. It felt like fighting against a wolf pack, with most of the force spread around, ready to go.

I wasn’t the only one struggling with the instincts. Even if they had weapons, their approach was more like a wolf than a human. On the face of it, it was not a bad strategy. There was a reason that wolves were one of the most dangerous hunters in the world despite not matching other beasts in size and sheer destructiveness.

Circling the prey, continuously distracting it with feints and false attacks until one of them could attack from behind to wound the attacker, hurting the mobility. It was a good tactic, especially with their current objective was to delay me until the rest had caught up with me.

Unfortunately for them, while that tactic was good, allowing them to deal with the prey that was stronger and even faster, it was based on one condition. The prey needed to be less agile.

Which was not the case for them. Yet, I deliberately let them attack multiple times, leaving bleeding wounds as the attackers got closer and closer. After my earlier success, I needed a defeat, one that would convince the sorcerer behind me that I was not a threat, but a desperate wounded animal, one that dealt with the earlier squad only because of a cowardly ambush.

I struggled under their combined attacks before one of them had gotten too arrogant. Before he could complete the attack, I swung my sword, decapitating him. While the others howled in shock, three pilums flew, their accuracy seemingly poor as two sank into the stomach of the attackers, and one to the leg.

I rushed, and killed another before he could react to sudden change, but not before he could deliver a painful stomach wound, and then I grabbed the bundle of pilums and started running away, making a show of stumbling to the distance as I bled badly.

In truth, it was harder to keep the wounds from closing.

Dealing with the Roman squad without a wound while letting the much weaker shifter wound me was another deliberate sacrifice. The shifters were much weaker than the scout team, but their speed and agility were their advantage.

My struggle against them should convince the sorcerer that the speed I had shown while I escaped his spell was not an ability I could repeat. Convincing him to that might be the only way to deal a deadly blow.

I had pushed forward steadily, avoiding the next ambush completely, picking a speed that ‘just’ avoided their next two pincher attempts, drifting away from two air mages who were using their magic to move faster.

The only reason I was able to get away from them was my detection capabilities. A combination of mana sensing, sharper eyes, and better hearing was impossible to beat. And, on the battlefield, information was the most dangerous power.

As I continued to move deeper, I could feel my enemies getting more and more desperate. The sound of their horns turned louder and louder, and the cavalry pushed themselves to move faster, enough to risk their horses even if they were second order.

They were desperate to cut my path.

But, neither had shown desperation as much as the sorcerer, who started to rain fire on my path from a great distance, doing his best to cut my path at the risk of exhausting himself. Whatever that was in the depths of the valley, they were desperate not to confront it.

Soon, my path had been covered with flames, which was significantly more unfortunate. That meant I couldn’t go to the valley, not without bursting through the flames … which I couldn’t do without signaling that I had been faking my true limits all along.

The bigger problem was that the sudden forest fire had taken away my advantages. As the smoke rose, it blocked my vision, the crackling of the fire making listening far more difficult. I could hear the movement, but not enough that I could distinguish them.

However,, I had been ready. What truly caught me unprepared was my mana senses. The more fire spells that the sorcerer used, the weirder his mana presence started to feel. At first, he was a man, wrapped in an aura of flames, but the more spells he had used, the weaker the presence of the man had turned, and the stronger the presence of flames had become.

Soon, his presence was indistinguishable from a forest fire, while he could probably feel my presence from the flames once he got close enough.

Like it wasn’t enough, the flames had been radiating enough mana to overshadow the presence of the ordinary mages, making it harder to pick them, particularly the weaker ones.

I wondered whether he had long realized my true limits, or if it was just pure misfortune. Maybe it was just a side effect he had been struggling with. With that, I had been trapped, likely due to an accident, all because I had underestimated their fear of the danger at the center of the valley.

Information was a deadly weapon, and this time, I was the one that was stabbed.

“It’s time for another stupid risk,” I muttered even as I closed my eyes, focusing inward as I ignored everything. The fire, the sorcerer, the slumbering danger at the center of the valley…

I focused on the beast vitae in my arm, separated the smallest piece I could control, and dragged it to my head. More accurately, to my right eye. The vitae settled there obediently, and I started feeding it mana desperately, forcing the transformation to spread.

And, with it, came pain. “I can’t believe I have to thank you again, you crazy old man,” I muttered even as I desperately brought one of the pilums to my teeth before biting. The pain from forced transformation was incredible, but thanks to my training, I could maintain my transformation.

The dragon heart responded to pain, pumping more and more mana, which I channeled into my transformation. I could feel my eyeball shuffle and shift, my gaze getting sharper and sharper. I kept my left eye closed, while my right eye turned sharper and sharper.

As the pain started to fade, neither the fire nor the smoke was enough to block my sight. At a distance, I could see three air mages flying desperately, ready to dive and take me. However, on their face, I could see more greed than fear.

However, they were not the only ones I could see. At a distance, the cavalry had been spread in a half circle, ready to cut my path and delay me, mages mixing with them. The shifters had been spread among them, holding the first line their positioning enough to confirm that my earlier tricks had been successful.

The thing that caught my attention was the figure at the back with the Spear of Scipio on his back. He looked not just exhausted, but tense, similar to how I looked while I struggled against the transformation. It was clear that burning half of the forest quickly took a lot of him.

They were trying to get the dragon heart, thinking that I was already spent.

Not that I couldn’t understand. While the flames blocked the presence of many things, the mysterious existence in the valley was not one of them. And, I could feel its stirrings. A subtle change, but it was waking up.

I was alone, lacking the armaments as I faced a sorcerer supported by a small army, an even greater danger stirring behind me.

Yet, now that I had no choice, I didn’t feel fear but excitement. I wondered if it was the dragon heart forcing a new set of instincts, or if it was my training showing itself once more.

Not that it mattered. The enemy had spread thin, their visibility compromised, and their most mobile forces committed early to a battle due to a horrible strategic decision due to misinformation. And, most importantly, the sorcerer, their strongest member, had already pushed himself to the limit.

“This is for you, old man,” I grunted as I tightened my hold on the pilum.