The cleaning of Java continued—in favor of these merchants. The priority was to save those still alive. The battle against that dragon nightmare had covered everyone in mud, to the point where armor could not be distinguished. For the first time, with their beards sticky, weapons without distinction of precious stones, chainmail torn to the point of looking like berserkers, the dwarves saw their similarities. It was not as if the war ended here, but the merchant leader's son had been talking with Caliza for a good while—that was a good sign. The greatest battle was using words before actions. We Night Elves had no choice—we were told and made to do things; we were Forest Elves. But like them, I found myself with the possibility to choose. Now I was perched in the cave where, through the baptism of common survival, a group of beings would keep fighting—among themselves, against others. Yet bloodshed and injustice would be avoided, for you knew not only you were there, but others could defend themselves too.
The bones and scales of these dragons were quite resistant. From here, I saw some smiths giving tentative blows to the scales and smiling at the sound. They would likely fight over the scales, like everything. Still, the battle would be fairer. Suddenly, a pain struck my head—very strong, threatening at moments to knock me from my perch. But it passed. It was only a message—a very important one. My protector was in danger!
The tunnels were for people under one meter fifty. But no one knew how to move in such spaces—to the point where they thought we imprisoned elves had not learned to move through them. When many of the tunnels we cleaned were of that diameter, I advanced hunched over like a mole. Pride did not matter. I had to get there. The worst was that I had no tracker to follow Chapatrueno—only that pain. It was caused by one of the runes our elders tattooed. It was not to reach them, not to be of help—quite the opposite. These activated when you concentrated on helping. If they needed help, they wanted no one to go. Neither the Overlord, Lilith, nor whoever they sought were interested in risking people to be saved. So now, thinking of him caused me pain, but it told me where to go.
As I got closer, it hurt more. He had entered one of the side caves where we arrived. The cave that received us was almost empty. The warriors, artisans, and young had left, carrying Chapatrueno's message to stop this stupid fallacy of battles for honor. Now I could not even think too much, but I did not need to. As I passed through the tunnel, I detected the peace only my lord could find.
Bodies of ghouls, of slimes, things that were surely native cavern creatures before chaos magic deformed them. At least now I did not have to search using the cursed rune. But time was against me. From what I understood, Chapatrueno was going to face the most dangerous dragon—sick, violent, capable of tearing apart other dragons. But the Overlord said I had to help him and that I must not let the dragon die... I deeply regretted my betrayal, but I would not let the one I loved lose his life. I had some earth dragon scales—not very large, but hard and sharp. I mounted them on a few arrows I recovered. If it was a dragon, it would face a weapon as hard as itself.
As I arrived, I felt out of breath. At the entrance of a cave, I was sure it was where the dragon lived. There were bones—many, dozens of species, nothing I could compare. They were many years old. But I heard Chapatrueno's voice—it sounded low. Then, without warning, the dragon spoke. There, I knew no one would survive its fury. The voice—dark, decrepit, terrible—mocked my Deathbringer. There, I realized I would enter, fight by his side, to my last breath. He was someone for whom anyone would deserve to die.
I entered through one of the small tunnels. When I peeked in, I saw we were already in the center of the mountain—enormous the shadow it cast, giant the cave. The beast made Chapatrueno a small dark light. A giant mass projected the end of everything. Black traces covered its wasted body. When I drew my arrows, I saw Chapatrueno had already fought in the hall. On the floor, evidently dead, were all who had stayed in Rocaceleste—all transformed by dark magic... even if it killed me, I would put an arrow in its eye! I carefully prepared my bow—two scales shaped into points. Then the dragon turned, and I saw it was already dead.