The Desolation of Smaug

The dwarf's secret passage was quite narrow, and with Wayne's tall frame, he had to bend at the waist to move forward comfortably.

Glancing at Bilbo, who was trembling slightly as he walked ahead, Wayne smiled softly. He reached out, patted the hobbit on the shoulder, and said in a reassuring tone:

"Don't worry, Bilbo."

"Your task is simply to find the Arkenstone without waking Smaug."

"You don't have to fight the dragon."

"If the dragon does wake, just find a safe spot and leave the rest to me. I'll protect you."

Hearing Wayne's comforting words, Bilbo turned and smiled gratefully. The journey over the past six months had been the most thrilling, exciting, and unforgettable adventure of Bilbo's life.

For a hobbit who enjoyed comfort and peace, having such a grand adventure was enough to fill his memories for the rest of his days.

Of course, this was no idle reassurance. After receiving Wayne's guarantee, Bilbo felt more at ease, moving with greater decisiveness and steadiness.

The two quickly traversed the narrow secret passage, and as they reached the end, a breathtaking sight unfolded before their eyes.

Gold. Gold as far as the eye could see, like a vast ocean, glittered in the cavernous room before them.

In a chamber easily spanning thousands of square meters, towering heaps of gold filled the space. Golden cups, jeweled goblets, gemstone necklaces, and an immeasurable amount of gold lay scattered like grains of sand in a desert. The sight was simply overwhelming.

Even Wayne, a traveler from the modern world, was momentarily awestruck by the treasure of Erebor. This was truly the greatest hoard in all of Middle-earth. The wealth here could drive anyone, from any land, to madness.

A rough estimate suggested there were hundreds of millions—perhaps even billions—of gold coins.

Wayne's heart raced at the thought that a third of this treasure would soon belong to him.

With this fortune, when he returned to the Witcher world, he would rival the combined wealth of the entire Northern Kingdoms. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to call himself the richest man in the world of witchers.

And with that wealth, he could accomplish everything he had ever dreamed of.

But Wayne, ever pragmatic, quickly shook off the illusion of boundless riches. He gently patted Bilbo, who was still entranced by the sight. Without speaking, he gave the hobbit a knowing look, urging him to begin the mission.

Bilbo, worthy of being the hobbit who resisted the allure of the One Ring in the original story, quickly snapped back to reality. He took a steadying breath before quietly moving into the ocean of gold, searching for the Arkenstone.

Wayne, meanwhile, drew the Sword from his back, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

For Wayne, it didn't matter if Bilbo found the Arkenstone or not. The hobbit was merely bait to lure Smaug out and reveal his location.

Once the dragon appeared, Wayne would strike with deadly precision.

The vast piles of gold were unstable, with each coin resting loosely on the next, creating the potential for small avalanches with even the slightest disturbance.

However, Bilbo, ever the resourceful burglar, moved lightly across the gold. Even though he hadn't undergone any formal training as a thief, his footing was remarkably stable, barely making a sound as he stepped on the coins. His stealth was impressive, surpassing even that of most witchers, who would struggle to match his quiet grace.

Wayne stood on the terrace, looking down at Bilbo as he diligently searched for the Arkenstone amidst the sea of gold. A sense of calm washed over him. The warm blood coursing through his veins made his strength surge, and the muscles throughout his body poured all their power into his arms.

After about an hour, Bilbo suddenly let out a quiet cheer.

Wayne looked up and saw the small hobbit holding an oval-shaped, radiant gem the size of an ostrich egg, waving excitedly at him.

It was the Arkenstone. Though neither of them had seen this legendary treasure before, anyone would immediately recognize its brilliance. It was the heart of the Lonely Mountain, the Arkenstone, the greatest treasure of the Durin line.

But Bilbo failed to notice what was happening behind him. As he celebrated, a massive vertical eye, almost a meter long, slowly opened.

The piles of gold began to shift and cascade like a waterfall, resembling a landslide made of gold. This caused waves throughout the treasure hoard, immediately catching Bilbo's attention.

In this critical moment, the hobbit reacted swiftly. Without hesitation, he drank the invisibility potion Wayne had given him.

The potion from Azeroth acted fast. Before Smaug, who had been in slumber for hundreds of years, fully awakened, Bilbo had already disappeared, leaving only a faint trail of footprints as he quickly made his escape.

The enormous bronze dragon, stretching hundreds of meters, began to emerge from the ocean of gold.

Smaug shook his head and spread his wings, causing the heaps of gold to tumble from his body, revealing his graceful yet terrifying form.

He opened his mouth, releasing a breath, and spoke in a hoarse, venomous tone in the common tongue:

"A curious scent. Not the foul odor of dwarves, nor the sweet fragrance of elves. How strange... what manner of vermin dares to crawl into my treasure hoard?"

Before Smaug could identify the intruder, he felt a subtle weight on his neck, as if something—or someone—was standing on his back.

His predatory instincts screamed danger, urging him to shake off whatever had landed on him.

But before Smaug could react, a sharp pain—the kind he hadn't felt in centuries—pierced his neck, causing the dragon to bellow in a mixture of rage and fear.

"AAAAAAAARRGH!!!"

"Who is it?! What vile creature dares climb on my back?!"

"Who dares harm the great Smaug?!"

As Smaug's deafening roar echoed throughout the treasure chamber, the dragon began thrashing like a maddened wild boar, crashing his massive body into the stone pillars in a desperate attempt to crush the intruder.

Wayne, unwilling to risk his own life in the process, jumped off Smaug's back just before impact, narrowly avoiding the stone pillar.

Despite the opportunity, Wayne couldn't help but curse. Smaug's dragon scales were much tougher than those of the dragons in either the Witcher world or the Elder Scrolls universe.

With all of Wayne's strength and wielding a powerful weapon, he had aimed for the dragon's neck, a spot with fewer defenses. Yet, all he managed was a medium-sized wound.

It wasn't the fatal blow he had hoped for.

But Wayne didn't know that the sword he had just struck had terrified Smaug. As the last great dragon in Middle-earth, Smaug had seen many powerful warriors fall before him throughout the First Age and beyond. He was one of the most formidable creatures allied with the dark forces.

It had been an eternity since he last felt pain.

Wayne's sword strike, which caused Smaug to bleed heavily from his neck, brought him face-to-face with death for the first time in a long while.

After smashing into a stone pillar, Smaug didn't hesitate. His fiery chest swelled, and a blast of searing orange-red flames, thousands of degrees hot, erupted from his maw, directly aimed at Wayne's previous position.

The intense flames quickly melted the gold where the Witcher had been standing, turning the piled coins into molten pools of gold.

However, Wayne had already vanished before the dragon's flames reached him, reappearing high above Smaug's back.

While Wayne had hoped to land directly on the dragon's back and strike the wounded neck again, his blood flicker ability required precise calculations of location—he couldn't teleport freely.

If he miscalculated and ended up inside a solid object like a wall or another body, it could lead to instant, catastrophic injury. Wayne wasn't about to take that risk.

When he landed on Smaug's back, the dragon immediately sensed the danger. Without concern for his own dignity, Smaug rolled violently in the sea of gold coins, thrashing like a cornered beast, desperate to throw Wayne off.

Wayne, unwilling to meet the dragon's metallic body head-on, used his sharp two-handed sword in the gaps between Smaug's wild movements, slashing large and small wounds across the dragon's body.

At the same time, the ancient, battle-hardened dragon began to realize that Wayne had the ability to teleport. This discovery cast an even deeper shadow over Smaug's already growing fear.

Dragons of Smaug's size were not known for dealing well with agile, evasive foes.

Now, Smaug found himself against an enemy who could teleport at will and possessed the strength to break through his mighty scales. It was as if he had met his perfect nemesis.

Timid by nature, Smaug immediately abandoned the idea of continuing the fight. Panic gripped him as he scrambled to flee.

He didn't even stop to spew his usual arrogant threats. Instead, he thrashed and rolled through the gold hoard, smashing his massive body against the surrounding walls in a desperate attempt to escape. Finally, he found an opening and scrambled toward the gate of the Lonely Mountain's treasure chamber, trying to flee.

For the first time in his long life, Smaug—the hunter—was now the hunted, gripped by the unfamiliar sensation of fear.

Just as Smaug gathered his strength and began to lift himself into the air, Wayne was not about to let his prey slip away. With a flicker, Wayne appeared several hundred meters ahead of the fleeing dragon.

At the same time, the space bracelet on Wayne's left hand began to glow with powerful magic aimed directly at Smaug.

As a magical creature, Smaug instantly sensed the formidable magic energy gathering before him. A look of raw terror twisted the dragon's normally fearsome visage as he beat his wings frantically, trying to rise higher.

But before he could escape, an intensely bright white lightning spear—composed of crackling electric energy—shot from Wayne's hand. This was the sixth-level spell, Herat's Lightning Spear.

The spear, with its immense heat and pressure, shattered the dragon's scales with a violent crackle, boring a bloody hole the size of a watermelon through Smaug's thigh. The spear continued, slamming into the wall behind the dragon and leaving a crater about half a meter deep.

The ancient evil dragon immediately opened its mouth and let out a pained roar. Blood-red liquid flowed rapidly down his thigh, yet despite his injury, Smaug did not hesitate. Like a desperate beast, with his leg nearly crippled, he wailed and used all his strength to dash toward the gates of Erebor. 

He moved so quickly that even Wayne, despite using his blink ability in rapid succession, struggled to keep up. There was no time to launch another attack.

The thousand meters between them flew by in a blur. Smaug, now terrified beyond reason by Wayne's relentless pursuit, didn't slow down. Instead, he hurled himself headlong into the stone gate forged by the dwarves with a thunderous clang.

With a deafening crash, the massive gate of Erebor shattered under the force of the dragon's body.

Smaug howled in pain once more but didn't stop. He flapped his wings with all his might, desperate to take to the skies above.

He was convinced that once he reached the sky, he would be safe, able to escape his relentless hunter and soar to freedom.

As for revenge? The once-proud dragon, now greedy for life and fearing death, wouldn't dare contemplate such an idea. Not until he recovered and had enough knowledge of this terrifying foe would he even entertain it again.

But just as Smaug thought he had saved his life, just as he believed he would ascend into the heavens, salvation was ripped away.

A thundering roar echoed from his side, and suddenly, a terrifying creature, eight or nine meters tall and covered in dark green scales, like some ancient, savage beast, lunged at him with unimaginable power. 

Like a predator striking its prey, this beast launched itself from the side, landing on Smaug's back. Its powerful legs stomped down hard, iron-like claws hooking into the dragon's scales. 

Two muscular arms, ending in razor-sharp claws, wrapped tightly around Smaug's slender neck like bands of steel.

What terrified Smaug the most was that this monstrous creature, having ensnared him, sank its blood-soaked fangs into his neck. 

The bite was vicious, tearing through Smaug's flesh and reopening the wound that Wayne had inflicted earlier. Blood gushed from the wound, and the damage even reached the dragon's trachea.

Faced with such severe injuries, a terrifying realization dawned on Smaug.

"I'm dying!"

...

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