The chamber’s air was thick with dust and the metallic tang of blood, stale and oppressive. Flickering torchlight cast jagged shadows on the walls, but even the dim glow couldn’t soften the harsh reality before me. A massive form lay chained to the stone floor—black scales fractured like obsidian, marred by wounds both fresh and ancient. The creature’s wings hung limp, shredded remnants of what had once been majestic.
I stepped closer, boots echoing softly against the cold stone. Years of captivity had carved themselves into every scar, every broken scale. The sheer size of the beast was enough to remind me why the Count had risked so much. Dragons were no mere animals. They were forces of nature, living weapons. And this one had been reduced to a prisoner.
Its black eyes snapped open, locking onto me with a gaze that pierced through the shadows. Despite its weakened state, the presence was suffocating—an ancient power shackled and simmering beneath layers of pain.
I didn’t flinch. Hiding was pointless. I let my voice cut through the silence, steady and unyielding.
“The Count actually caught a dragon. Not just any dragon, but one still breathing after years of torment.”
No response. The chains creaked as the dragon shifted, muscles rippling beneath scarred scales.
I crouched, inspecting the runes carved deep into the iron links binding the creature. Layers of binding magic reinforced the steel—far beyond ordinary enchantments. Whoever had crafted these chains was meticulous, ruthless.
“How long have you been trapped?” I murmured, voice low, more to the chains than the dragon.
Still nothing.
I exhaled slowly, calculating the implications. If this information leaked, the Dracwyn Sovereignty would respond with fire and blood. The continent would ignite.
“I can free you,” I said evenly, stepping back. “But you’ll keep quiet. If word gets out, it’s war. I’m not interested in that.”
The dragon’s head lifted slowly, eyes narrowing with intelligence and fatigue. A voice echoed in my mind—low, feminine, tinged with weariness.
“Why help me? What do you gain?”
I froze for a moment. Dragons spoke? Not just roars or telepathy, but full speech?
“You can talk,” I said, intrigued.
“Not all can. Only a few.”
“Lucky me,” I replied dryly.
She exhaled softly, a sound between a sigh and a growl.
“Why risk yourself for a dying dragon?”
I smirked beneath my mask.
“Do I need a reason to free someone?” I said. Internally, I thought: I want to see the Count’s face when he realizes his prized experiment is lost.
The dragon studied me, eyes sharp despite exhaustion.
“These chains… you’ve tried breaking them?”
“Of course. Impossible in this state.”
“Nothing’s impossible,” I said, already summoning mana.
She tilted her head, skeptical.
“You sound confident… but you’re just a human. A kid.”
“And you’re a dragon locked in chains.” I shot back. “I admit they’re tough, but I have a plan.”
She watched silently as I summoned ice, coating the metal in frost. Then fire, heating it rapidly. Repeated.
“What are you doing?” Her curiosity broke through.
“Watch.”
Minutes passed. The chains groaned but held. She scoffed.
“It’s useless. Leave before you’re caught.”
“Patience,” I said flatly.
A low chuckle rumbled from her throat.
“You’re an interesting one.”
I smirked, eyes on the growing fractures.
The dragon watched, her red-rimmed eyes narrowing as I summoned ice again. Frost spread over the steel links, crystallizing the moisture in the air.
"You're wasting your time, human," she rumbled, chains clinking with her movement. "These bindings are enchanted to resist elemental magic. Fire won't melt them, ice won't shatter them."
I didn't look up, focusing on the precise temperature shift. "I'm not trying to melt them. Or freeze them." With a flick of my wrist, fire replaced the ice, heating the frost-coated metal. A sharp crack echoed as the chain jerked violently.
"Then what—" she began, cut off by another rapid freeze-thaw cycle.
"Thermal expansion," I stated flatly, watching hairline fractures spread across the metal surface. "All materials expand when heated, contract when cooled. Steel does this at a ratio of roughly 12 micrometers per meter per degree Celsius."
Another cycle. Another series of cracks.
"Your fire isn't hot enough to melt enchanted steel," she observed, "but these temperature swings..."
"Are creating metal fatigue," I finished. "Repeated stress cycles cause microscopic cracks to propagate. Enchantments strengthen bonds, but they can't stop atomic-level structural degradation."
I paused, noting her wince as the chain groaned. "The enchantments are the problem. Direct melting would trigger defensive runes—probably incinerate us both." I gestured to the glowing sigils. "These symbols are designed to absorb and redirect energy attacks. But they can't stop physics."
"Physics?" The dragon's voice held genuine curiosity now.
"Basic materials science," I said, initiating another cycle. "Heating to 500°C expands this steel by 0.6%. Rapid cooling to -20°C shrinks it by 0.3%. Do that 200 times..." I tapped a chain link now webbed with fractures. "The cumulative strain exceeds the material's ductile limit."
Her eyes followed my finger. "And the runes?"
"Blunt instruments. They sense magic, not thermodynamics." I summoned fire again, precisely localized. "The enchantments would stop a lightning strike or ice spear. But slow, cyclic thermal stress? They're blind to it."
A particularly loud snap echoed as a fracture split a link halfway through. The dragon hissed—not in pain, but surprise.
"You're... exploiting a loophole in magical theory."
"Efficiency," I corrected. "Why fight magic when physics works for free?"
Another cycle. The fractures deepened. "Your scales disperse heat. The thermal gradient stays surface-level. You'll feel discomfort, not burns." I met her eyes. "Unless you'd prefer I try melting them?"
She actually chuckled, a dry rasp. "Proceed, physicist."
As I continued, the science unfolded:
Expansion Phase: Heating to 480°C (just below enchantment trigger threshold)
Contraction Phase: Flash-freezing with mana-conducted cryokinesis
Fatigue Acceleration: Focused vibration spells to amplify crack propagation
Structural Weakness: Targeting stress points at chain joints
The chamber filled with the symphony of straining metal—a brutal orchestra of fracture mechanics overwhelming ancient magic.
The metallic clang of the chains was drowned out by the sudden surge of mana as Count Vareon Faulmont stormed into the chamber, his eyes blazing with fury. The air thickened with his presence, crackling with raw power.
“There you are, rat,” he spat, voice dripping with venom. “Trying to free my prized experiment?”
I didn’t bother to lower my blade. “You talk too much,” I said flatly, stepping forward with a cold smile.
His aura flared, a tempest of destructive energy. “You won’t escape this time.”
I tilted my head, voice calm, almost mocking. “Who said I was trying to escape?”
The Count snarled, launching a barrage of fiery mana bolts. I dodged with calculated precision, letting the flames scorch the stone walls behind me. My eyes flicked to the chains, now webbed with fractures.
“You think your tricks will save you?” he growled.
“Not tricks,” I corrected, “physics. Thermal expansion and contraction.”
He sneered, eyes narrowing. “Magic bends the rules of your petty science.”
“Not this time. The enchantments can’t withstand repeated stress.”
I intensified the cycle, ice and fire alternating rapidly, the chains groaning under the strain. The dragon shifted, eyes gleaming with a mix of hope and pain.
Vareon’s attacks grew more desperate, wild. I used the chaos to my advantage, moving closer to the chains, ready to strike the final blow.
“You underestimate me,” I said, voice low. “And that will be your downfall.”
The chamber trembled as the first chain link cracked completely, a sharp snap echoing through the room.
“No!” Vareon roared, fury turning to panic.
The battle was far from over, but the tide was shifting.
To be continued...
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