The Dragon Speaks English!

Hollywood had it wrong; the valor of the American soldier, armed with outdated firearms, triumphant against extraterrestrial invaders purely on willpower and resilience, is a narrative confined to the silver screen. In reality, be it aliens or 'monstrous beings,' no adversary armed with intelligence and power would be as easily bested as in those films. When faced with the stuff of legends, the standard military equipment of the U.S. Army proved futile. Bullets, grenades, and even rocket-propelled grenades failed to harm the dragon. One soldier, driven to madness, attempted a melee attack, only to have his spinal cord snapped by a casual flick of the dragon's tail, his body cleaved in two.

While it wouldn't be accurate to say the elite team made no impact, at the very least, their relentless onslaught left the dragon's golden scales somewhat dirtied, in need of a thorough cleaning.

The battle, if it could be called that, was brief. The dragon's swiftness was inconceivable for such a massive being. Overwhelming strength, imperviousness to human weaponry, and blinding speed left no room for suspense.

After AI's evolution, Drake's genetics had been vastly optimized. Even among the dragons of Saint Soren, a young dragon would pale in comparison to his physical prowess. He wasn't just any ordinary dragon but a 'Final Strategic Weapon' as termed by the Teyrnon civilization.

"Professor... what do we do now...?"

A student, quivering and tearful, turned to Professor Johnson, his performance considered composed compared to his peers who were either weeping or trembling uncontrollably. The dragon's primal brutality had left none of the American soldiers with a whole corpse. Those initially incinerated by the dragon's breath were perhaps the fortunate ones; the rest were mercilessly eviscerated by claws, tails, and trampling feet.

Severed limbs, spilt entrails, and the blood-soaked riverbanks painted a grisly scene. Some, bisected, had not died instantly, uttering anguished cries not unlike the historic torture of bisection.

These students, sheltered in the ivory tower of academia, had never even seen a corpse, let alone such a horrific display of carnage. Standing was a feat in itself.

They knew of the dragon's legendary invincibility, but ancient spears were one thing; why were modern 'guns' ineffective?

"I... I have no idea what to do... As a biologist, I've never learned how to survive a dragon encounter."

Professor Johnson was just as shaken, understanding various survival tactics against wild animals, but dragons were never part of that curriculum.

After annihilating all who dared to fire upon him, Drake flicked the blood from his claws and turned his menacing vertical pupils towards Professor Johnson and the remaining students.

Drake had no intent to kill these few; their lack of aggression and failure to attack him were factors, but more so, they held value to him.

"Ignorant mortals, this is the fate of those who dare bare their fangs at a dragon!"

Raising his head, Drake spoke again in Dragon Tongue. It wasn't that he couldn't speak English, but it seemed beneath him to begin with such a human language.

'He speaks, he has wisdom!'

A revelation struck Professor Johnson, who, in a moment of clarity, prostrated himself on the ground, exclaiming, "Great dragon, we meant no intrusion onto your domain; we are mere researchers, unrelated to those soldiers who attacked you."

Regardless of whether the dragon understood English, it was never wrong to beg for mercy first and foremost—and to distance oneself from the hostile soldiers. Dignity, whether human or academic, was nonsense in the face of death.

The other students, following suit, also knelt down, pleading in voices laced with tears and fear, their cries as bothersome as the buzzing of flies.

"Silence!"

Suddenly, Drake spoke in English, with a pure American accent rather than a British one.

The group was stunned, looking incredulously at the dragon.

'God... The dragon speaks English!!!'

Professor Johnson felt his entire worldview crumble, regretting not studying mythological creatures throughout his decades as a biologist.

"Foolish mortals, is this your language now? It has not improved since the old days and remains just as unpleasant to hear."

Drake's contempt for humanity was palpable, his words laden with disdain as though humans were mere insects, his sustenance.

"He... The dragon speaks English?!"

Lucy, the girl among them, whispered in disbelief, quickly covering her mouth, terrified her words would draw the dragon's attention.

"English? To a grand dragon, your language is simply learned with a spell of 'Understanding Languages.' Only you mortals would waste so much time learning such an inconsequential skill."

Drake's head leaned closer to Lucy, a sulfurous, scorching breath escaping his maw. Just a normal exhale felt like being in a furnace, the heat burning her throat and tears streaming down her face.

"A spell? Magic...?!"

The others, initially shocked by Drake's comments, quickly became excited at the mention of magic—who hadn't fantasized about its existence or dreamt of being superhuman? But their excitement was short-lived as they bowed their heads, nothing but captives to the formidable dragon before them.

Suddenly, the sound of propellers and wind approached from the sky. The surrounding trees swayed with the force of the wind as Drake looked up to see three Apache attack helicopters drawing near.

"Humans always invent amusing toys."

With that remark, Drake soared into the sky, hurtling toward the approaching military aircraft.