The Battle of the Three Dragons

Chapter 370 The Battle of the Four Dragons (6K) (1/2)

Then, it temporarily abandoned its pursuit of the "little insects," turned its huge head covered with hideous bone spikes, and its fierce gaze, like a real blade, suddenly stabbed at the Chinese Fireball Dragon in the center of the open space, which had been moving peacefully but was now startled by the sudden situation and had its scales slightly open.

Time seemed to stand still for a moment.

The Fireball Dragon slowly raised its long neck, and its head, covered with smooth red scales, turned around.

Moonlight streamed over its body, making each scale resemble a jewel bathed in dark red silk. Its vertical pupils, like molten gold, first reflected the furious image of the tree-bee dragon, then a spark ignited in its eyes, slowly spreading into a blazing, defiant rage. It exhaled two scorching, sparking fireballs from its nostrils, the sparks drifting lazily in the night, tracing brief arcs before finally extinguishing. It let out a clear, deep roar, unhurried, its forepaws firmly digging into the ground, crushing several pebbles, displaying an unyielding stance.

One black, one red, two equally enormous and dangerous beasts, silently stared at each other in the moonlight-lit open space.

The air seemed to freeze, and the strong smell of sulfur weighed heavily on everyone's chest.

The hostility grew and spread silently, almost audibly like the taut vines binding and tightening.

Then, almost simultaneously, an incandescent, unsettling halo rose from the depths of the Tree Bee Dragon's throat, like the surging of magma from the earth; the Fireball Dragon also slightly opened its mouth, revealing dagger-like teeth, its throat rolling with a blazing, concentrated golden-red light—like a sun about to hatch.

"Merlin! They're going to fight!" A young wizard's shrill cry pierced the silence, carrying a desperate tremor.

sound.

The shout was like a stone thrown into still water, instantly shattering the precarious balance.

"Stop them! Separate them! We can't let them fight here!" Oren's roar was hoarse as he frantically waved his wand, unleashing beams of dazzling Barrier Charms between the two dragons, attempting to build an invisible wall. "Everyone! Focus on Binding Hornets! Fireball, Soothe! Soothe the Fireball first!" His commands struggled to be relayed amidst the chaos, trying to grasp at the last shred of order.

"Calming spell! Powerful calming spell, aim at the tree wasp's head!" The red-haired young man shouted hoarsely at his team members, directing them to flank the tree wasp and try to distract it. Veins bulged on his forehead.

The scene abruptly shifted from utter stillness to frenzied activity, like water being boiled. The wizards frantically darted and dodged through the air and on the ground, their multicolored beams of spells leaping once more, attempting to entangle the dragon's massive body, but like threads trying to bind a mountain, their efforts were fragile and futile.

On the verge of this suffocating chaos, Lynch still stood in the shadows.

He didn't join the shouting; instead, his gaze calmly swept across the entire arena, assessing the struggle between every force. His wand slid silently into his palm. He didn't attack or obstruct either side, but instead gently tapped, reinforcing the protective and silencing magic already in place around the clearing.

In the arena, the standoff reached a critical point where it was about to erupt.

The Tree Bee Dragon attacked first, its throat, brimming with incandescent flames, suddenly opening wide.

Almost simultaneously, the Fireball Dragon, not to be outdone, spewed out a fireball compressed to its limit, as bright as a small sun, from its mouth!

One white, one gold, two destructive torrents tore through the air and shot straight at each other.

However, they did not hit their target directly, but collided head-on in the air less than ten meters apart between the two fire dragons!

Instead of a simple cancellation, it triggered a cataclysmic explosion!

A towering flame rose from the center of the open space, its blinding light instantly engulfing everything, as if a second sun had been born on the ground. Immediately afterward, an indescribable roar swept across the area, a blast of scorching flames, instantly vaporized earth, and raging, uncontrolled magical currents coalescing into a visible, death-tinged shockwave that spread wildly in all directions!

"Get down! Take cover!" Oren's roar was completely swallowed up by the sound of the explosion.

The shockwave, like a giant, tangible wall, slammed into the two closest cages!

The sturdy iron bars containing the Welsh green dragon and the Swedish short-nosed dragon emitted a sickening metallic groan under the terrifying combined impact of physical and magical forces. The protective runes engraved on them flashed blinding red warning lights, then shattered one by one like blown fuses! The thick canvas was easily torn into countless butterfly-like fragments, and the entire cage tumbled, twisted, and deformed violently under the brute force of the explosion!

A brief silence.

It was as if even the aftershocks of the explosion were sucked into the ground.

The next second, the horror and rage inside the cage, ignited by the imminent terror, erupted like a volcano!

"Aww!!!"

"roar!!!"

A roar filled with primal fear and destructive impulse erupted almost simultaneously from the two broken cages, more piercing and frenzied than any roar before! Driven by the absolute instinct for survival and resistance, the green dragon and the short-nosed dragon used all their strength to crash into the already crumbling cage walls!

Clang! Crack!

The deformed iron bars were smashed open and torn apart! Two more enormous beasts broke free of their restraints and stepped into this moonlit purgatory!

The Welsh Green Dragon flapped its wings in panic, trying to take flight and escape this nightmarish place, only to crash into the wizard who was circling low and trying to regain his footing. The Swedish Short-nosed Dragon shook its head and spewed out a cone-shaped, extremely hot blue flame, forcing back the small group that tried to approach to appease it. The thorn bee dragon and fireball dragon, the instigators, did not retreat after the explosion. Instead, the splashing flames and loud noises were like strong liquor poured on charcoal, completely igniting the ferocity dormant in their blood. They began to attack each other and everything in their vicinity with even greater ferocity and recklessness!

The dragon's roar shook the heavens, flames intertwined like a net, and the earth trembled with heavy footsteps and magical explosions.

The wizards were now truly like fallen leaves in a storm, desperately rolling, dodging, and trying to erect thin shields amidst the raging dragon's breath and claws. The light of their spells still flickered sporadically, but like candles in the wind, they were easily swallowed up by the greater and more primal violence.

An accident, amidst a chain reaction and escalating confrontation, seems to be irreversibly sliding into an abyss of complete loss of control.

However, at the heart of this raging storm of roars, flames, and chaos, there seems to be a strange and fleeting rhythm.

A gasp after a violent vomit, a brief standoff against a dilapidated shelter after a daring evasion, the heavy, slow moment when the fire dragon turned its neck to scan the surroundings—chaos is not a uniform clamor; it has its own cruel rhythm, stretching and relaxing, turning fear and hope into a tormenting string.

Just as this sense of despair began to spread, Lin Qi made a move.

He didn't shout, didn't run hurriedly, and didn't even make any exaggerated spellcasting gestures. He simply took a few steps forward from the edge of the shadows and walked into the chaotic halo of light interwoven with firelight and moonlight.

A strong wind whipped at the hem of his clothes, and a blazing dragon's breath nearly grazed the edge of the barrier in the distance, illuminating his calm and expressionless face.

His very existence, at this moment, seemed to become an abrupt "still point," forming an inconceivable contrast with the surrounding rage.

The wand was raised, the movement fluid and steady, like the understated yet all-encompassing gesture of a conductor before the start of a movement.

"Yugadim..." His voice was clear and steady, with a strange rhythm, "Leviosa."

The spell instantly enveloped the central area of ​​the open space.

The four fire dragons, which were raging, spitting, and tearing at each other, suddenly froze. The solid ground beneath their feet seemed to instantly turn into a smooth ice surface; more accurately, the concept of "gravity" was subtly altered.

The Hungarian Horned Bee Dragon stood upright, attempting to pounce on the Fireball Dragon, but its forepaws suddenly lost their firm grip on the ground; the Chinese Fireball Dragon's pent-up flames swirled in its throat as its body involuntarily floated upwards a few inches; the Welsh Green Dragon's panicked flapping became comical as it discovered that the reaction force of its wing flapping was unusually strong; the blue flames spewed by the Swedish Short-nosed Dragon also veered off course, its limbs slightly off the ground, losing a stable point of leverage.

The sudden feeling of weightlessness wasn't enough to make them fly, but it completely destroyed the balance and power they relied on for movement and attack. The four dragons' movements simultaneously became distorted and uncoordinated. They roared in confusion and anger, trying to struggle, but within the area affected by the levitation spell, they were like drunkards, their massive bodies' coordination instantly shattered by this simple yet vast magic.

Immediately afterward, before they could even flap their wings to adjust, Lynch slightly turned his wrist and pressed the tip of his wand downward.

"Get down!"

Two simple syllables.

An invisible force field, several times stronger than before, suddenly descended!

That wasn't wind pressure; it was as if a small space had been transformed into a high-density "lead block," which was then roughly covered over the four temporarily unbalanced fire dragons!

boom!boom!boom!boom!

Four muffled, heart-stopping bangs exploded almost simultaneously!

The four colossal beasts were slammed to the ground from their semi-uncontrolled floating state as if by the hand of an invisible giant! The earth trembled violently, dust billowed into the sky, and debris flew everywhere. The fire dragons were stunned and disoriented, their bones groaning in pain. For a moment, they were unable to get up and could only lie prostrate in the shallow crater created by the impact, letting out painful and furious roars.

Without giving them any chance to catch their breath or flare up again, Lynch continued to use his magic to keep the fire dragons firmly on the ground, followed by his third spell.

He waved his wand, tracing several simple yet sharp lines.

"A soul-reaping ritual."

This time, the magic is no longer completely invisible.

On the ground, from the shadow beneath the fire dragon, countless translucent chain phantoms, as thick as an adult's arm and gleaming with a cold, iron-gray luster, suddenly sprang forth! They were not physical entities, yet they condensed an astonishing level of magical power, emitting a low, metallic hum.

One end of the chain was deeply "nailed" into the earth, as if drawing suppressive power from the earth's veins, while the other end, like a living giant python, swiftly wrapped around the fire dragon's neck, limbs, torso, and even the base of its wings!

Under the moonlight, the outlines of these iron-gray magic chains faintly emerged, with ancient and obscure runes seemingly flowing across them.

The chains were bound with extreme precision and cunning, not only restricting the dragon's most powerful limb movements, but also emanating a heavy pressure that penetrated to the very soul, causing the bound to feel stiffness and chilling both body and mind. The Hungarian Tree Bee Dragon attempted to break free of the chains with brute force; the incandescent flames scorched the chains, but only caused the chains' light to flicker slightly, instead tightening their grip. The Fireball Dragon's golden-red breath also failed to melt this chilling magical creation.

The four fire dragons, which had just been capable of destroying the heavens and the earth, were now like ancient ferocious beasts caught in a net. They were suppressed to the ground by the heavy force field and bound layer by layer by the suddenly appearing "iron chains" that exuded an ominous aura. They struggled and roared in vain, but could no longer stir up the storm they had just experienced.

From the moment Lynch emerged from the shadows to the moment the four fire dragons were suppressed and chained, the entire process took only a few seconds.

It was so fast that most wizards' brains simply couldn't process the information at a glance.

The open space was deathly silent.

Only the dragon's heavy breathing and the chains' slight humming could be heard.

All the wizards, including Oren and the red-haired leader, stood frozen in place, wands still raised in mid-air, spells stuck in their throats. Their eyes widened, mouths agape, their expressions frozen in horror and utter disbelief.

The scene before them defied all common sense—it wasn't a clash of more powerful spells, nor a slow suppression through sheer numbers, but rather an effortless, almost "rule-like" approach that effortlessly stripped away the threat of the fire dragons, pinning them to the ground like specimens. The eerie chains faintly visible in the moonlight exuded a chilling, ancient, and powerful magical aura.

Lin Qi seemed to casually straighten his slightly disheveled cuffs, his gaze calmly sweeping over the stunned wizards.

His voice, clear and calm as ever, rang out in the deathly silence: "What are you waiting for? Aim for the head, and 'collapse to the ground'."

This calm reminder was like a bucket of ice water poured over everyone's heads, instantly waking them up.

Oren jolted awake, his cheek muscles twitching, and he almost roared, "Listen to him! Everyone! Collapse to the ground!"

Aim! Fire!

He collapsed to the ground, completely unconscious!

"Stun them!"

"quick!"

All the wizards who were still able to move, including Oren, Charlie, members of various squads, and even some wounded who had just gotten up, raised their wands and aimed them at the giant beasts struggling and sluggish in the silver-blue aura.

Dozens of dazzling red beams shot out from all directions, tearing through the air and converging in the center of the open space. They were no longer the weak or easily deflected beams of light as before, but rather beams imbued with the will and magic of the wizards who had regrouped, precisely aimed at the dragon's relatively vulnerable head, below its eyes, or its snout.

Red light rained down on the fire dragons, whose defense and mobility had been greatly weakened by "Swift Imprisonment." At first, it only made them more dizzy and agitated, but under the continuous and concentrated firepower, the effects began to accumulate.

The Tree Bee Dragon let out a low, unwilling cry, its eyelids covered in bone spurs drooped heavily, its massive head swayed, and then crashed to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

Next came the Fireball Dragon, its golden pupils losing their light, its long neck losing its support and drooping limply.

The Welsh Green Dragon and the Swedish Short-nosed Dragon, under the continuous impact of the red beam, let out a short whimper and collapsed to the ground, falling into a magically forced slumber.

In the center of the open space, the inferno that had just been engulfed in flames and roared with deafening cries suddenly fell into an eerie silence.

Only the heavy thud of the four fire dragons' massive, hill-like bodies collapsing to the ground, and their deep, now steady, breathing in slumber, remained. The silver-blue light of confinement slowly faded from them, like the receding tide, finally retreating back to the tip of Lynch's wand and disappearing from sight.

The moonlight shone down again, cold and clear, illuminating the messy open space, the broken cages, and the wizards, their clothes disheveled, panting, their faces a mixture of shock, fear, and disbelief.

Oren was the first among them to break free from the pure shock of instinct; his professionalism compelled him to understand what was happening before his eyes.

With their existing plans and capabilities, their team could eventually subdue the four fire dragons. However, that would require more meticulous teamwork, the use of higher-level binding spell arrays, the utilization of terrain, and a large amount of sedative potions, resulting in a difficult and dangerous protracted battle. It would take at least half an hour, accompanied by unavoidable additional casualties and more severe damage to the terrain.

But what truly chilled him to the bone, followed by a wave of relief and lingering fear, was the more crucial consequence: if the half-hour battle had proceeded according to the standard procedure, by the time the four fire dragons were exhausted or forcibly rendered unconscious, they would likely have been severely injured in their frenzied biting, scratching, and flame-breathing. Scales falling off, wings breaking, or even fatal wounds were not impossible. Each of these fire dragons was a rare individual, carefully selected for the Triwizard Tournament, priceless and indispensable. Any one severely damaged and unable to participate due to an internal management lapse would result in an international scandal and irreparable loss.

A bittersweet feeling, a mixture of professional frustration and immense relief, quietly crept into Oren's heart.

They might have been able to "solve" the problem, but Professor Lynch of Hogwarts "perfectly resolved" the crisis in a way that transcended their conventional understanding, and took into account the subsequent effects that they might not have even considered at the time.

Lynch slowly lowered his wand, as if he had just finished a trivial task.

He glanced around, his gaze sweeping over the wizards who seemed to see Merlin reborn, before finally settling on Oren, and he nodded slightly.

"Please proceed with the follow-up treatment as soon as possible," his voice returned to its usual clear and steady tone, as if the scene of turning the tide had never happened. "Sedatives and reinforced restraints need to be administered immediately. Also, check their injuries as soon as possible, focusing on whether they suffered serious internal injuries or fractures in the melee and fall—this is related to whether they can participate in the competition as scheduled."

It wasn't until he spoke that many wizards truly awoke from their dreamlike state.

They looked at the man who still stood in the center of the open space, his figure appearing somewhat thin yet inexplicably tall in the moonlight, and then at the collapsed fire dragons around them. A sense of exhaustion from surviving a catastrophe and awe of absolute power quietly gripped everyone's hearts.

Some of them lowered their wands, dumbfounded, shocked by the sheer power Lynch displayed; others subconsciously checked their wands or touched their protective gear, as if to confirm whether they were still in the familiar magical world.

Oren opened his mouth, but in the end he only nodded vigorously. Then, in a hoarse voice, he began to issue a series of clear and rapid instructions, directing the various groups to take action.

Charlie gave Lynch a deep look, his eyes filled with complex emotions, before turning back to the busy cleanup work.

The earth-shattering scene just now was not completely hidden by the barrier and the night.

Not far from the edge of the clearing, in the shadow of the dense forest, two unusually tall shrubs trembled slightly, and behind them stood two even taller silhouettes.

"Oh—" A deep, almost reverent sigh rang out, belonging to the Hogwarts key keeper.

Rupert Hagrid, a gamekeeper and professor of magical animal conservation.

On his large, hairy face, his beetle-like eyes gleamed with a fascination as he stared intently at the dragon's body, which, even in its unconscious state, still appeared majestic on the open ground. "Merlin's beard—it's so beautiful, isn't it? Full of power, wildness, and that—that awe-inspiring magnificence!" His enormous hands rubbed together unconsciously, as if he could still feel the lingering heat of the dragon's breath in the air.

Then, as if remembering someone else beside him, he awkwardly tried to steer the conversation toward what he considered the highest praise. He turned to the lady beside him, who was considerably taller than him and dressed in an exquisite silk robe, and said in a sincere yet slightly abrupt turn: "Just like you, Mrs. Maxim. I mean—that scale, that—unforgettable beauty."

Mrs. Orim-Maxim, the headmistress of Beauxbatons School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, paid no heed to Hagrid's somewhat inappropriate analogy.

Her usual elegance was replaced by shock. Her brows furrowed, and her sharp gaze swept over the dragons that were hastily covered with canvas and enchanted with stronger magic, before turning to the busy Ministry of Magic officials and dragon tamers in the arena.

"Dragons—" Her voice was low, her French-accented English filled with disbelief and barely concealed anger. "They actually brought in dragons, and even made four of them go out of control at the same time—have the Ministry of Magic gone mad? Is this what they've prepared for the Tournament? Making several students face these—these monsters?" Her chest heaved with anger and worry, and she was beginning to feel a deep unease for her student, Fleur Delacour.

Just a few steps behind the bushes where Hagrid and Madam Maxim were standing, behind another clump of low thorns, under the Invisibility Cloak, Harry almost stopped breathing, his heart pounding in his chest as if trying to break free of his ribs.

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