Four zombies remained, but naturally, he was much more worried about the dragon. He thought he could handle the zombies without Ayame's help. They weren't as dangerous, fast, or strong as the shadows, for example. He was sure of that, otherwise, he wouldn't have killed the first one so easily. Deep down, he was glad to have this to focus on, because defeating the dragon didn't even seem possible. This was a task more suited to his level, and he was determined not to fail.

  Of course, his mind was full of worries, for example, the fact that the dragon wouldn't stumble over the same stone twice. He knew vampires were generally powerful, but he couldn't imagine what Ayame could do against the monster. How would she repeat the feat of making it fall to the ground? But he decided to forget all that. He would focus on her simply as someone he had just met today and focus on what he could do.

  A roar escaped his throat. An instant later, his sword clashed with the next zombie's. A second one touched him from the other side, but Vincent raised the shield and the opponent's sword simply bounced off. The fourth zombie he had crossed swords with backed away. Vincent lunged forward, but not at him, but at the other one who had been thrown off balance by the way he had deflected its blow.

  Vincent didn't swing his sword; he decapitated the son of a bitch with his shield. But it was undead. After all, it kept walking forward and swinging its weapon. Though now it seemed to have gone blind. Although it didn't have eyes to begin with, just empty sockets eaten by worms.

  Yeah, well, he wasn't sure how that worked. But what did it matter? The point was that it worked. Buying time, space, another blow. Vincent rolled on the ground, swung the sword, but to his surprise, his blow was stopped. An attack aimed at the legs. He ditched the shield, throwing it towards the third one before it could jump him.

  The second one wasn't dead yet, but it wasn't a big problem, since it was now flailing blindly about five meters behind him. He stood up, executed a spin gripping the sword with both hands, and struck the back of the enemy's head. The heavy impact sent what remained in its skull flying with a gut-wrenching crack.

  Vincent jumped, stomping on what was left, then tried to slice it in half, but only got halfway before he had to pull the sword out and back away. Dodging another blow, the fight came to a very sudden end. He suddenly realized he was flying through the air.

  The impact against something… he was too shaken to recognize what, and it didn't even hurt. Even after hitting the ground, after stopping, his ears were ringing. The buzzing was like a hornet's nest.

  He shook his head, raised it slowly and with great effort. Only then did he realize there had been an explosion, as there was a crater in the earth. The dragon had spat fire nearby. The resulting explosion had blown the zombies to pieces, erasing them from this world, and had almost killed him.

  Fuck! A little closer and he would have died before he knew it. Fuck!

  He had a lump in his throat, in his stomach. He tried to get up. His sense of balance was shot to hell. The world spun violently to one side, like a ship in a storm, and Vincent fell with it.

  His ears. Fuck! How his head hurt. His ears, everything.

  He looked around, searching for Ayame. She was surviving, dodging attacks, keeping her distance. Whether by jumping a huge distance, or transforming into mist, even a bat, and returning just as quickly to her human form. But that was all. She was just surviving for the moment. That didn't mean she was going to win, that she even had any idea of a path to victory.

  And here he was, barely able to move. He hadn't even been able to stand up. But even if he stood up, what could he contribute against that monster? He was a blacksmith, not a knight, nor any other kind of fighter. His skills were those of a blacksmith, his stats were those of a blacksmith. Had he made a mistake coming this far? No, never that. He'd rather die than call it a mistake.

  He gritted his teeth and tried to stand up again. He didn't quite manage it, though barely. Vincent fixed his eyes on the dragon. He had an idea, a plan, if you could call it that. It was crazy. Perhaps for the best he had, it was the only thing.

  He ran straight towards the dragon, screaming at the top of his lungs.

  Ayame stopped, stunned.

  "Are you crazy?"

  He saw her expression out of the corner of his eye. It was quite a picture.

  The dragon shot a stream of fire at him. Vincent raised the shield, right in front of his head. The reddest part split in two. He knew immediately that this wooden shield, low-level and belonging to a simple undead, wouldn't last long. It was common sense, but besides that, he saw it start to melt instantly.

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  A dragon's fire was too strong, too overwhelming, for a simple shield to be useful.

  "Get out of there, idiot!"

  He didn't get out of there, he kept moving forward. The shield disintegrated completely in his hand, but by then the stream wasn't as intense. It was more like a thin column of fire. He guessed the dragon was concentrating the power of its fire breath rather than making it larger.

  But that was a mistake. It didn't matter how powerful the fire discharge was if it didn't hit him. The shield's defense, however brief, had allowed him to run further to the side. And now he kept getting closer to the dragon, which continued spitting fire with its claws firmly planted on the earth, trying to catch him, turning its head.

  The fire nipped at his heels, but never quite reached him until Vincent reached the dragon's mouth and stuck his shield hand—that is, the hand that was now free—inside, without a second thought.

  Fire of the Forge.

  The skill was nothing special. Just something that made a blacksmith's life more convenient. Everyone unlocked this skill early on, and as a result, they didn't have to use gloves and didn't have to fear being hurt by the fire of their own forge. Unless, of course, they were idiots and tried to see how long they could hold their hands in the fire or some similar stupidity. It wasn't a super powerful skill, merely one that made blacksmiths' lives a bit more convenient.

  For the same reason, the immunity transferred to the tool they carried. After all, it would be a disaster if their hands could withstand higher temperatures than their tools. This made their work easier, allowed them to speed up the pace.

  It would only last five seconds, but it was still five seconds.

  It should be enough. The difference between life and death.

  Vincent swung the sword, plunging it into the inside of the opponent's mouth. Ayame could call him crazy, but he had never felt saner. After all, if he'd come this far, what less could he do than risk his life? If he didn't have the balls to risk his life, he wouldn't get very far.

  He attacked the inside of the dragon's mouth again and again, as fast as he could. Aware that any second he could end up scorched, but the flow of fire stopped before that could happen.

  The dragon recoiled, coughing, staggering. Surely it was more surprise than anything else. If it had just choked on its food, on the other hand, a momentary lapse that would be corrected immediately.

  It was soon proven. It threw its entire gigantic body back, gathering fire in its mouth, a large ball of fire, ready to be thrown, to explode and overwhelm everything in its path. It didn't happen.

  Well, maybe it did. Ayame arrived with another tree trunk and filled the monstrosity's mouth with it, as if it were a spear. The explosion, naturally, occurred anyway. Perhaps more intense than it would have been. Both of them went flying, like straw dolls, and pieces of flesh and bone, blood splattering into the air. Not to mention pieces of wood, of course.

  The dragon's head had exploded, and the tree trunk with it. Less than half had been destroyed, but it definitely looked dead. Definitely, the contents of its skull were more outside than inside.

  Ayame looked at him, shrugging slightly. He thought she'd say, see, it wasn't so bad after all, and she probably would have, except she didn't have the breath for it. Now they were both the same. Now they were both in the same boat, barely able to stand, let alone move.

  It wasn't necessary. One moment they were in the middle of the forest, surrounded by pieces of eggs, undead flesh, cracks in the earth, blood everywhere, broken wood, and scattered stone. The next moment they found themselves in a completely different place, surrounded by professors.

  A couple helped them to their feet. Vincent recognized Verona because she was the woman who had handled the orientation for new students. He was breathless, and not just because of all the shit he had just gone through. He also recognized the academy's Headmaster. Well, there wasn't anyone in the world who wouldn't. He was the owner of the most prestigious academy in the kingdom, after all. The man who had made Runehaven what it was.

  "Congratulations," he said precisely.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Vincent noticed the open portal to his right.

  "How could you put a dragon in an initiation test?" Vincent knew he shouldn't play with fire, that it was better to keep his head down, accept that he had won, and rejoice like an idiot. But he couldn't wrap his head around it. They had been so close to dying and nobody had given a damn. They hadn't done anything to stop it. He had always known the initiation tests were dangerous, but a dragon took the cake. Fake or not.

  "Oh, the dragon was real," Headmaster Jonathan continued. "That is, it wasn't part of the plan."

  "It wasn't?" Vincent repeated. He should be jumping for joy because he had defeated... that is, they had defeated that beast. But he didn't really feel very triumphant, who knew why.

  The Headmaster shook his head.

  "Of course not. That would be going way too far. But since we saw you managed it after all, we decided it wouldn't be fair to force you to reach the end of this little obstacle course. You've more than proven that you belong in this academy, after all."

  Vincent was losing strength in his legs and barely had enough to stay standing in the first place.

  He glared at Ayame. The vampire shrugged, as if to say: what can you do. Okay, I made an assumption and I was wrong. Shouldn't have followed me. Okay, maybe he was projecting too much meaning onto that gesture. But, in any case, every word was correct.

  So correct it made his fucking stomach churn.

  "Damn it. None of that was necessary," Vincent said. "I almost ended up like a roasted chicken because of you."

  "I didn't tell you to do that stupid thing. And, by the way, I'm still not clear on how you survived that. Hey, Vincent... Vincent! Vincent!"

  The aforementioned only realized why she suddenly sounded so worried when he heard his body hit the ground. He was exhausted. His eyes closed.