A friendly discussion

Venetia was the first to move.

With a quick flick of her hands, she summoned a gust of wind, shaping it into small wind slashes that tore through the air, aimed straight at the advancing kobolds.
The ones at the front were caught off guard, their skin sliced by the razor-like ****.
Some of their crude weapons shattered on impact, sending splinters flying as they stumbled back, clutching their wounds. But those in the rear had barely any damage, most of the wind being absorbed by the front.

Yuki, knowing she wasn’t built for direct combat, quickly slipped into the shadows with practiced ease.
She moved to a safer spot, her eyes sharp as she watched for the perfect moment to strike.
She wasn’t one to rush in recklessly—she waited, patient, for her chance to exploit the kobolds' mistakes.

Draco, meanwhile, could feel the heat building inside him. Smoke curled from his mouth as he inhaled deeply, preparing to unleash a wave of fire.
The narrow stone corridor was the perfect place for it—once the flames erupted, there would be no escape.
His mind was set on ending the fight quickly, and the power rising within him urged him forward.

Just as Draco was about to let loose the inferno, a spear shot through the air; one of the kobolds had thrown it with impressive accuracy at him.
He barely had time to react before the spear came dangerously close, forcing him to release his flames prematurely.
Instead of the devastating blast he’d planned, only a smaller torrent of fire erupted, scorching the kobolds at the front.
They screamed as flames consumed them, but the fire didn’t reach far enough to hit the rest.

Draco muttered a curse under his breath, annoyed that the spear had ruined his chance for a powerful strike.

The kobolds, seizing the moment when Draco's flame had diminished, charged through the smoldering heat.
The fire had burned down enough to only leave angry, red burns on their tough skin, but it wasn’t enough to stop them.
Their eyes gleamed with fury, and their guttural, animalistic screams filled the narrow corridor, echoing off the stone walls like a wave of pure hatred.
Each step they took forward was a testament to their rage, and they seemed ready to fight until the bitter end.

Venetia, her face tight with concentration, sent again a series of smaller, precise wind slashes toward the charging creatures.
And again the sharp gusts sliced through the air, cutting down the first few kobolds with deep wounds.
Their weapons clattered uselessly to the ground, but those farther back had deep cuts but still the energy and weapons for a last attack.

One kobold, blood streaming down its face from a gash, hurled its spear in desperation, the weapon spinning dangerously through the air. "
Die, you bitch!" it screamed, blood bubbling at the corner of its mouth as it choked on its wounds.
Other kobolds followed its lead, throwing swords, spears, and crude daggers with wild abandon.

The weapons flew through the dimly lit hall in a deadly storm.
Most missed, their trajectories erratic, clanging off the walls and floor. But a few struck true.
Venetia staggered as one spear nicked her torso, leaving a long, bleeding cut, while another grazed her thigh, the pain sharp and searing.
She gasped but held her ground, teeth clenched as she tried to assess the situation quickly.

Draco, meanwhile, had drawn the attention of a second group of kobolds, their eyes filled with nothing but primal hatred.

They charged him with raised weapons, crude iron swords, and chipped axes gleaming in the faint torchlight.
From the rear, three kobolds raised their shortbows, losing arrows aimed at Draco.
He felt the impact of each, but his dragon-enhanced skin barely let the arrows penetrate.
They caused only shallow cuts, thin streams of blood oozing out from the small wounds, but nothing that would slow him down.

Not wanting another wave of arrows, he breathed and quick fire breath, burning the archers.
However, this gave a distraction for a more melee-orientated group of kobolds to get near to him.

With a growl deep in his chest, Draco reached out with lightning speed and caught one of the advancing kobolds by the neck.
Its eyes bulged in terror as he lifted it effortlessly into the air before smashing its body into the nearby stone wall.
The sickening crack of bones echoed in the corridor, and the kobold fell lifeless to the floor, blood pooling around its crushed skull.

Another kobold lunged at him from the side, swinging its axe wildly.
Draco reacted in an instant, his foot connecting with the creature's head in a vicious kick that snapped its neck.

The body collapsed in a heap at his feet.

Then, from the corner of his eye, Draco noticed the third kobold approaching—this one wielding a sword that shimmered strangely in the dim light.
It was a far more refined weapon than what the other kobolds carried, its blade glowing faintly as if infused with some unknown magic.

Furthermore, it seemed to be stronger and bulkier than any of the other kobolds.
The kobold let out a shrill battle cry and lunged at Draco, aiming the enchanted sword straight for his gut.

Draco felt it in the pit of his stomach—a deep, primal sense of danger. His entire body tensed up, every muscle tightening as his heightened survival instincts surged to the surface.
It was a sensation he had learned to trust, one that had kept him alive.
Something about the kobold’s glowing blade felt different, and though he didn’t know exactly what would happen if it made contact, he knew one thing: it wouldn't be good.

However, to protect him, Yuki shot forward from the shadows like a phantom.
She had been waiting, her small frame hidden perfectly in the dungeon’s dark corners.

Her movements were graceful yet lethal, like a predator closing in on its prey.
With a swift, practiced motion, she slid behind the kobold and, in one fluid stroke, slit its throat.
The kobold’s eyes widened in shock as it gurgled, blood pouring from the wound in torrents.
It collapsed to the ground, clutching its neck in vain before going still.

Draco looked down at the dead kobold, then back at Yuki, nodding his thanks as she wiped her knife clean on the fallen creature’s.
Venetia, though hurt, had already begun to steady herself, her wind magic flaring faintly as she worked to regain control of her breathing.
The adrenaline was still pumping through all of them, their muscles tensed and ready for more action.

The three of them now stood together, their eyes scanning the carnage. Blood stained the ground, and the air smelled of sweat, iron, and burnt flesh.

Kobold bodies lay strewn across the stone floor, some still twitching in their final moments. The battle had been quick, violent, and bloody.
Venetia’s clothes were torn from the spear strikes, her skin bruised and slashed in several places.
Draco had small cuts from the arrows, blood dripping down his chest, though he barely seemed to notice.

The flickering torchlight cast long shadows over them as they stood in the silence that followed the fight.
Each of them felt the weight of the bloodshed—this dungeon was no simple exploration.
It was a place where **** lingered in every shadow, waiting for the next careless move.

Draco wiped some kobold blood from his arm and took a deep breath, his eyes locking with his companions.
There was no need for words; they all understood now. This journey would be anything but easy.

"This..." Draco muttered under his breath, glancing at the carnage before them, "...this isn’t going to be a peaceful adventure after all."

The group finally reached the end of the dark, narrow hallway and emerged into a vast, cavernous hall.

The scale of the space was overwhelming as if the mountain itself had been hollowed out to make room for this ancient structure.
Stretching far above them was the ceiling, shrouded in shadow and barely visible in the faint light provided by scattered torches.
Beneath them was the exact stony floor from before, littered with the debris of crumbled pillars, chunks of stone, and broken statues whose forms had been lost to time.

This place had once been something grand.
Draco could sense it in the craftsmanship of the walls, the intricacies of the worn carvings that lined the stone, and the fragments of what had once been towering monuments.

Yet, the most striking sight in the hall wasn’t the ruin itself, but the signs of life.

At the center of the room, a makeshift kobold camp was clustered around a smoldering fire pit.
A little over twenty kobolds scurried about, their green forms casting long shadows in the dim light.
Some were hunched over, sharpening crude weapons, while others stood guard or looked warily toward the hall’s entrance.
The atmosphere was tense, and it was clear that the kobolds were on edge, probably because of them.

Draco crouched down, motioning for Venetia and Yuki to follow suit. His sharp eyes took in every detail, analyzing the enemy’s movements, the positioning of their tents, and their overall readiness.

"The kobolds sent that small group earlier thinking it was just a stray monster that opened the gate," Draco whispered, keeping his voice low.
"But that doesn't make any sense—this dungeon gate required more than brute strength to open.
This means that the kobolds probably don't know how to access this place exactly."

Venetia crouched beside him and gave a curt nod.
Her eyes scanned the room before locking onto something at the far end.
She pointed silently toward a larger figure near the back of the camp, partially hidden in the shadows by a makeshift tent. "The boss," she whispered.

Draco followed her gaze and spotted him—an unusually large kobold, standing taller than the rest at nearly 170 centimeters.
He was clad in crude but functional iron armor, a rarity, since the other kobolds only hat tribal clothing.
The armor appeared to have been cobbled together from scavenged materials, but it was far more advanced than anything his underlings wore.
In his hand, the kobold boss clutched a jagged iron sword, its edge shimmering slightly in the torchlight.

"Their leader doesn't know his scouting party was wiped out yet," Draco continued his voice barely above a whisper.
"We can use that to our advantage. We'll strike fast, take down as many of them as we can before they realize what's happening.

Valentia, Yuki—you’ll handle the smaller kobolds. I’ll deal with their boss."

Venetiaa gave a sharp nod of approval, already preparing herself mentally for the fight ahead.
Yuki, though nervous, nodded as well. She didn’t like the prospect of fighting, but she followed Draco.

Venetia’s chant seemed to stir the very air around her.
As she spoke, the winds began to respond—a faint hum at first, then a rush of power gathering at her fingertips.

"Oh great Wind, you who give us the strength to move, guide me."

With each word, the wind picked up, softly howling as it swept around her, stirring her hair.
Her gaze sharpened, fixed on the kobold camp.
She calculated her next move, knowing exactly where her spell would strike with the most impact.
Raising her hand, she traced a complex symbol in the air, as though she was directing the winds themselves.
A spear of pure air formed before her, razor-sharp and buzzing with energy. It gleamed like a blade made from the sky itself, vibrating in place, waiting for release.

With a swift motion, Venetia thrust her hand forward, her voice steady. "Air Spear!"

The spear shot forward, cracking through the air like thunder as it sped toward the heart of the kobold camp.
It spun violently, pulling a swirling funnel of wind in its wake, dragging anything nearby into its path.

Meanwhile, Draco drew in a deep breath, the heat building inside him as his chest expanded.
When he unleashed his power, flames erupted from his mouth, roaring through the hall with the fury of a dragon’s breath.
As the flames rushed forward, they collided with Valentia’s spinning Air Spear, combining them.

The fire wrapped around the swirling winds, creating a massive vortex of flames.
The wind, now carrying the fire, amplified its power, transforming it into a destructive cyclone.
The hall’s temperature soared as the firestorm spun faster, creating a roaring whirlwind of flames.

"Combined magic: Fire Vortex Breath!" Draco chanted with a smile

The vortex tore through the kobold camp like an elemental disaster.
It hit with the **** of a hurricane, the flames spiraling outward as the wind spread them across every corner of the camp. Tents were instantly consumed, bursting into flames as the fiery whirlwind expanded.

Kobolds near the center were caught immediately, their bodies lifted into the air by the storm and consumed by the fire.
Further back, chaos broke out as kobolds screamed and were trying to escape the spreading inferno.

The hall was filled with the crackle of fire and the distant screams of kobolds, the smell of burning wood and flesh hanging thick in the air.

Draco didn’t waste a moment. As the last embers of the flaming vortex died down, he lunged forward, his draconic instincts sharpening his every move.
Smoke still trailed from his mouth, locked onto the Kobold leader.

The leader, now visibly shaken, barked orders in his guttural language, attempting to rally the surviving kobolds.
About eight or nine of his followers had perished in the fiery ****, but the rest were desperately trying to regroup.
The leader growled, pointing his spear and directing his troops, but it was too late—Draco had already closed the gap.

With one powerful swipe of his clawed hand, Draco seized the Kobold boss by the neck and hurled him effortlessly through the air.
The leader let out a choked yelp as he soared above the battlefield, crashing into the floor several tens of meters away from the camp.
Before the kobolds could even react, Draco was in pursuit, his powerful legs propelling him with inhuman speed.
His companions were close behind, but they knew this part of the battle was between Draco and the Kobold leader.

The boss struggled to his feet, coughing and gasping as he tried to shake off the disorienting throw.
His iron armor, though crude, had absorbed some of the impact, but it wasn’t enough to protect him fully.
As he stood, still dazed, his eyes locked with Draco’s. The kobold’s breath caught in his throat when he saw the Drakeling approaching,
smoke curling ominously from Draco’s lips, the fire in his eyes burning with lethal intent.
The space between them crackled with unspoken tension. This would be a fight to the ****.

Back at the camp, the remaining kobolds shouted in panic, their frantic cries echoing through the cavern. “BOSS DOGNO!” they screamed, watching in horror as their leader was flung away by the Drakeling.
Many tried to rush toward him, eager to save their leader, but they were stopped in their tracks by a sudden presence.

Valentia stood tall, her brown hair whipping slightly in the lingering gusts of wind from her earlier spell. She still had a hand raised, air swirling around her fingertips, ready to strike.
By her side, Yuki emerged from the shadows, as she stood poised like a shadowy predator.

With a battle cry, the kobolds rushed forward, spears and swords raised.
Giving up now only means certain ****.

The real fight had begun.