The Black Dragon (1)

I woke up because the ground was shaking.
No, not an earthquake. This was a rhythmic vibration, the footsteps of thousands of soldiers marching in formation.
I lifted my head from my coiled position atop the mountain and gazed down. The sight I saw was quite interesting.
Two massive armies faced each other in the valley below me. One wore white armor with gleaming banners, likely holy forces or a human kingdom. The other wore black armor with dark aura emanating from them, demon or undead forces.
A great war, apparently.
I was already used to sights like this. In the three months since I reincarnated as a black dragon, I had witnessed at least a dozen similar wars. Humans, elves, demons, all obsessed with mass slaughter.
What caught my interest this time was their position.
They were fighting right over a vast wheat field. The harvest that would soon be ready to reap, destroyed and trampled by tens of thousands of feet.
'Wasteful.'
Mass starvation would surely occur this winter. And when humans starve, they would start hunting dragons to take their treasure, which means they would disturb my sleep.
Good grief, I really just wanted to sleep.
I don't like being disturbed.
Therefore, this war must end. Now.
I rose and spread my eight pitch-black wings. A black shadow spanning three kilometers covered the battlefield below.
The effect was immediate. Both armies stopped moving and looked up.
"DRAGON!"
"The Ancient Ones!"
"ANCIENT BLACK DRAGON!"
Panicked screams began erupting from both sides.
I had no interest in listening to their drama. Without words, I dove down.
First target: the commander of the white-armored forces riding a war horse in the center of the formation. A blonde-haired man with a dazzling holy aura, likely a high-level paladin.
I could clearly see the golden holy barrier protecting his entire body.
But that wasn't a problem.
My five-meter-long claws struck him from the side.
No chance to dodge. No time to pray. He and his horse were destroyed in an instant, blood and armor scattering in all directions.
Screams of horror erupted from the white forces.
Second target: the undead wizard in dark robes standing behind the black army formation, staff raised, casting a high-level spell.
My pitch-black breath spewed dark fire that devastated the entire area within a 200-meter radius. The wizard evaporated along with two hundred soldiers around him.
Both armies were now in total chaos.
But I wasn't finished yet.
My hundred-meter-long tail swept through the white army formation from the side, sending hundreds of soldiers flying like dolls. My flapping wings created a hurricane that leveled the command tents of the black forces.
In less than five minutes, twenty thousand trained soldiers had turned into a panicked mass scattering in all directions.
Some of the more foolish ones tried to attack me.
Arrows, spears, magic spells, all bounced off my scales or didn't even reach my body.
I annihilated them with lazy tail movements or light breath attacks.
The rest were smart enough to run.
When silence returned to the valley, I surveyed my handiwork.
The battlefield that had been full of neat formations was now gaping craters and piles of corpses. The wheat field was totally ruined, the ground soaked with blood, banners burned or torn to shreds.
'Too excessive.'
But at least they wouldn't be coming back anytime soon.
I flew back to the mountaintop and coiled my body to continue sleeping. Before closing my eyes, I glanced briefly eastward, where black smoke was rising from several cities that were likely the bases of both armies.
They might send forces again in a few weeks. And I would face them the same way.
'The important thing is, sleep first.'
***
Two weeks later.
In the highest tower of the Magic Academy, an emergency meeting of the Grand Council was taking place.
"Current status?" Archmagus Valdris asked in a hoarse voice.
"Both kingdoms have declared a ceasefire," reported a young wizard with trembling hands. "No one dares send forces outside their respective fortresses."
"Casualties?"
"Battle of Crimson Valley: 18,000 dead in five minutes. Battle of Westmarch Plains: 25,000 dead in seven minutes. Battle of—"
"Enough." Valdris raised his hand. "And the creature?"
"Still sleeping in the Yndroval mountains. No one dares approach within a 50-kilometer radius of its position."
Suffocating silence filled the room.
"In three weeks," Valdris said quietly, "one dragon has stopped four major wars and changed the political map of the entire continent."
He stared out the window, toward the distant mountain on the horizon shrouded in black clouds.
"And the most terrifying thing is... it seems not to care about politics, religion, or race. It kills anyone who disturbs its territory."
A senior wizard raised his hand. "Should we evacuate the population—"
"No." Valdris cut him off. "As long as no one is foolish enough to wake it, it seems it will let us live."
He turned to face the council.
"Issue a decree: The Yndroval Mountains and the area 100 kilometers around them are declared an Absolute Forbidden Zone. Anyone who violates this will be considered a traitor to all civilized races."
"And its name?"
Valdris was silent for a long time, staring at the distant mountain.
"The Black Dragon of Yndroval, Uzlithar."