Dragon.
In this world, they were half-legendary beings.
Ten times larger than a wyvern, meaning a colossal body close to 100 meters in length…
They freely wield magic, moving far quicker than their size suggests.
Their claws gouge mountains, and their breath brings destruction akin to what humans call “forbidden arts.”
At least, that’s how the stories go.
But in reality?
A green-scaled, winged giant lizard.
Yes, this is indeed a dragon.
“Hey, it’s talking to us, isn’t it?”
“Maybe we can actually communicate with it?”
“I doubt that. It’s probably just thinking it can kill us anytime.”
The three underlings are understandably terrified.
They’re not moving, busy constructing defensive magic…
So, I ask,
“What? You can speak? You’re pretty smart for a monster.”
‘…You dare mock me, human?’
Oh.
‘Die.’
It’s breathing fire already?
How typical of a haughty dragon.
The breath it unleashed wasn’t like a flamethrower, more like a laser.
Photon, or is it a light wavelength? A directional energy weapon?
How many megawatts is that? No, it must be more—tera, perhaps?
This isn’t just missile-deflecting—anything hit by that beam vaporizes instantly.
But that’s not all.
No, that’s not the essence of it.
This isn’t light. It’s compressed magical energy, pressurized and emitting heat… The heat’s just a byproduct.
“Well, well, impressive. Just as expected, it ‘can’ use magic.”
‘What… You! That’s… Counter Magic?!’
Hmm?
How does this dragon know about counterspells? I invented that, didn’t I?
Why would this rural, mountain-dwelling dragon know about it?
‘…Could it be—an Elf?!’
An Elf?
Why would it think that?
Ah, I get it. Based on some wild assumption, it’s thinking, “Elves can use counterspells!” Yeah, that fits a story, doesn’t it?
But I live in the real world, not in a tale.
You can’t just jump to conclusions without evidence.
Even if you have information that “seems” plausible.
‘You again! Elf! Surviving ancients! Clinging to life like that, you monster!!!’
“Now that’s an interesting story. Do go on.”
‘Haaa! Take this!’
Oh, claws…
Hmm?
These flying slashes coming from its claws—they’re properly structured as spells.
Monsters typically use magic to strengthen their bodies or create substances as an extension of their innate abilities, but this…
Muscle or durability enhancement is more like wrapping themselves in magic, increasing the data volume, like creating armor to prevent other data from blowing them away. You know how larger files take longer to delete or copy? It’s like that.
Breathing fire, for example, would involve a magical organ in their body producing a flammable gas, injecting magic into it to generate the gas, and then expelling it from the mouth. Perhaps they’d bite their front teeth together to create sparks and ignite it, something like that.
But this dragon’s attack—it’s clearly structured magic.
Thin, blade-like energy fields are shot out when it swings its arm. Once released, the field is no longer controlled and dissipates after about 100 meters. A handy spell, really.
“Impressive. A mere beast, yet capable of crafting its own spells?”
‘You dare call me a beast?! You humans! The Elves who created us, they—!!!’
Created?
They created dragons?
No, monsters?
I want to hear more about this.
“Hah… That was close!”
Oh?
My underlings just emerged from the ground.
Ah, they actually managed to use their defensive magic.
“What power… If we hadn’t hidden in the ground, we’d have been vaporized!”
Yeah, well, with your level of magical capacity, that’s probably true.
That dragon’s breath—or was it a laser?—had an enormous output.
Earlier, I compared magic to internet traffic. This laser breath was like forcing a ridiculous amount of data through every port, trying to overwhelm the system. Like an F5 attack, or a Tashiro Cannon… though modern kids might not get that reference.
In any case, if you can’t handle that amount of data, the only solution is to hide outside the range and physically disconnect the ports.
My underlings dug into the ground with magic, severing the connection to prevent their bodies from being destroyed.
Of course, for a being with as much data—magical power—as this dragon, it’s a simple, straightforward attack. It’s like smashing you with raw magical energy—a basic yet effective move. At least the dragon isn’t a complete idiot.
“Alright, I’ll cover you! ‘Heat Houser!'”
“‘Obsidian Slicer!'”
“‘Lightning Bolt!'”
The underlings launch their spells.
But…
‘Foolish! It won’t work!’
With sheer magical power, the attacks are repelled.
On top of that, the dragon’s body is covered in an anti-magic barrier.
It’s similar to the type of barrier I keep up constantly.
More specifically, it’s like a primitive packet-filtering firewall.
It blocks specific magical wavelengths—such as heat or light—by immediately shutting down the magic in the area of contact with overwhelming magical force. It’s akin to military-grade reactive armor.
Well played.
Even without this firewall, my underlings couldn’t even scratch the dragon, but with it, their attacks are completely useless.
But… none of that matters because I’m stronger than it.
Let’s cut off its limbs and wings, and maybe its tail, so we can have a proper talk…
“‘Magic Missile.'”
‘GRAAAAHHHH?!’
An arm’s gone.
“‘Magic Missile.'”
‘GYAAAAAAA!!!’
A leg’s gone too.
And now…
‘Stop! Please stop…!’
Oh, it’s already begging. That was quick.
