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Lotr: Playing Minecraft in Middle-earth - 316
🕑 Added 2025-11-10 21:18:16 +0000 UTCChapter 316: Neat and Tidy
Levi could not be blamed for laughing.
The so-called dragon before him stood on four legs, with a long neck, irregular fangs, and spines running down its neck and back.
It looked ferocious enough.
But it had no wings.
Yes, this was a dragon that could not fly.
For such a creature, Levi preferred to call it a “giant lizard” rather than a dragon.
It even had only 600 health. Compared to Smaug, it was laughable.
Its scales did not seem very hard either—certainly not like Smaug’s, not even as tough as Little Pink’s. That ordinary first strike had already shaved off more than ten points of its health.
Then there was size.
Smaug was around one hundred and forty meters from snout to tail, while this one was perhaps a little over fifty.
Practically a child, fit only to bully Orcs.
“Wretched human!”
Roaring, the wingless drake charged Levi, only to realize its mistake too late. It did not even attempt to dodge. Levi swung the Dragonflame Steel greatsword, and the impact crashed down.
The blade struck precisely where the scales had already been cracked, split them open, and bit into flesh. The Drake screamed. Flame geysered over its body and drenched the treasure-filled hall in orange light.
“Aaagh—”
The cavern rang with its cries. Levi did not stand idle. He downed a Strength potion and hammered strike after strike, driving the wingless drake back until it was half-dead.
When the scales at its throat shattered and the greatsword angled for the gap to cut the neck, the dragon shrieked from the brink of death:
“Mama!”
A wall exploded.
Treasure flew as a massive body smashed through from the next chamber. A dragon nearly a hundred meters long crashed in.
Too late.
It saw only its child’s severed head.
“Base meat, wretch—how dare you!”
It lunged in fury. Standing upon the corpse, Levi glanced up and gauged its length—near a hundred meters.
He did not move, only raised his sword and met it head-on.
The crash thundered. The dragon’s head snapped back. Runes flared across Levi’s gear and took the brunt of the force.
He seemed the better for it, though only Levi knew the truth: without the shield, that blow would have driven him back several steps.
“Ha. I know you.”
After that first clash, the dragon cooled a fraction.
“As I guessed, you are the man who slew Smaug. Strong indeed. Even if we attacked together as a family, that brute always left us beaten.”
“So?” Levi’s voice was edged with mockery. “You mean to surrender?”
“If you yield now, I might consider letting you crawl back to the Northern Waste to live out what you can.”
“Heh. Petty thing. Such swagger.”
“Do not think we fear you because you killed Smaug.”
Its huge eyes shone gold. As it spoke, the pupils flicked right and left, clearly waiting for something.
Levi did not interrupt. He watched the performance and let the time pass.
“Oh? If you know I slew Smaug, you still face me here?”
“Do not think I do not know…”
The dragon slid for a better angle, neck stretching forward, voice cutting with scorn:
“I heard Smaug’s scales were first wounded by a man, and later his descendant struck the same wound to cripple him.”
“Without that, how would you have killed him?”
“So that is what you think?” Levi almost laughed.
Yes, that arrow had let him finish Smaug swiftly. That did not mean he needed it.
He aimed at the weak point because Smaug was alive and thinking, not a game mob that would lock aggro and batter itself to death without a thought.
Smaug schemed and fled when the tide turned. Once a monster like that ran, stopping it was hard; killing it, even harder.
In those days, if locked with Levi in a place neither could leave, the end would still have been Smaug’s slow death, even if it took time.
“Hahaha…”
The dragon sneered on.
“Now you are alone. What then? You slew a half-grown whelp and puff yourself up?”
“Your archer companion—dead long ago, no doubt.”
“Such are men. Short-lived, brittle. He, and you.”
“When we kill you, we will dig up the archer’s grave and hang your corpses from the walls, so all will know the dragons claim the final victory.”
The wingless, ugly drake bellowed.
Levi’s smile faded.
The far wall collapsed. Another dragon—longer than a hundred meters—burst through. That was the ally the mother had awaited.
Counting the headless whelp at Levi’s feet, the family was whole.
Moments later.
Rumble…
Levi dropped from the vault and slammed the mother’s skull into the floor with a single, crushing stroke, his greatsword grinding scale to shards. The ground sagged beneath the relentless blows.
The dragon thrashed, toppling pillars. Golden plates and silver cups crumpled under its bulk. Useless.
A sharp crack, and its skull gave way.
Levi planted both hands on the greatsword and drove it down. The head was pierced through.
It paid for its insolence.
All of it in the space of a breath.
The other dragon—late arriving—had barely moved. It stared, stunned, and whirled. All four legs scrabbled wildly. In that instant, it hated only one thing—its lack of wings.
When Levi’s gaze turned and he took a few steps in its direction, the last dragon howled inwardly:
“Run, legs. Run!”
Fwoosh—
A rocket’s hiss split the air. A figure wreathed in fire streaked overhead and landed in front of it.
Thud.
In the heartbeat after landing, Levi wound up and triggered Armor Break. The greatsword smashed forward into its brow. The charging dragon’s head snapped up, and the beast toppled onto its side.
The technique was simple.
Stop the dragon with a greatsword.
Its end was written.
Days later, three dragon heads hung from Framsburg’s north wall—two large, one small.
Of the two great heads, one was caved in as though a mountain had crushed it.
The other was twisted, a rictus of fear and regret any passerby could read at a glance.
Anyone who pried up the eyelids would see, deep in the pupil, a figure burning with orange fire.
