The Dragon had claimed the mountain peak, curling around the summit like a scaly crown. It roared, warning off any challengers, its breath heating the thin alpine air.
Catequil heard the challenge. He climbed the ridge, his twin slings in his hands. He was the thunder; this was his sky.
"You sit on my throne, lizard," Catequil’s voice boomed, amplified by the Huaca Voice. The sound caused an avalanche on the neighboring peak.
The Dragon hissed, launching itself into the air. It circled, looking for an angle to unleash its fire.
Cracking the Sky
Catequil didn't wait. He loaded a golden stone into his sling. He whipped it overhead—once, twice—and released.
CRACK.
The stone didn't fly; it became a bolt of blue-white lightning.
It struck the Dragon mid-flight, shattering a patch of iron-hard scales. The beast screamed, smoke spiraling from its flank. It retaliated, diving and bathing the ridge in a sea of orange flame.
Catequil stood amidst the fire, unburned. He summoned the Hailfield Judgment.
The sky turned black. Hailstones the size of fists began to pound the Dragon. They were not just ice; they were hard as diamond, battering the creature's wings, forcing it lower.
The Final Sling
The Dragon, battered and unable to gain altitude, crashed onto a lower plateau. It tried to crawl away, its fire dampened by the storm.
Catequil stood on the ledge above. He loaded a second, larger stone.
"Go back to the caves," the god commanded.
He spun the sling. This time, the thunderclap shattered the windows of villages ten miles away. The lightning bolt struck the Dragon’s head, knocking the massive beast unconscious.
The storm cleared as quickly as it had arrived. Catequil looked down at the smoking, defeated form of the dragon. He nodded once, satisfied, and vanished into the clouds.