Townspeople gathered around the triumphant adventurer. He displayed the dragon head as proof of his deed. They saw his work, but lost interest. They had requested his service, but now dismissed him? He stopped a fellow.

"What's going on here? I killed the dragon, but you don't seem happy."

"That isn't the dragon that plagues us."

"You're kidding."

"This one is much too small."

"Great." He almost dropped the head in frustration, but thought it too inconsiderate in the middle of town. "You people could have told me ahead of time what I'm dealing with." He disposed of the head properly, then returned to the magistrate where he originally promised the task. He almost wasn't allowed to meet with the magistrate. Still wearing only trousers, his frank tone was amplified by his meager attire. "Look, I already took care of a small nuisance. You only told me about one dragon in the cave off the western route. It's going to cost extra because I actually lost my shirt out there while wasting my time."

"We... weren't aware of a second dragon."

"Fine, it's done with. I need more information about the real dragon."

"We told you everything. It is a large dragon on the western route."

"Does it have legs?"

"What kind of a question is that? Of course it has legs."

"How big? Like a house? Bigger?"

"About a few houses, I suppose. I can't say I had the best look at it."

"Are you positive it is on the western route?"

"Yes."

"I cleared the cave by it. The only other point of interest is the worker's cottage."

"Ah yes, they might be able to direct you to the dragon's wherabouts."

"Right."

"Is there anything else you would like to ask, Mr. Faust?"

"Eh, not really." He didn't feel eager enough to probe for every detail possible. Perhaps he did not pay attention to the road well enough. After all, he traveled the road at superhuman speed.

Once again he followed the road. He took a human pace to scope his surroundings. Nothing stood out, and he found himself in sight of the cottage again. Perhaps asking the residents was a good idea, but he stole pants of theirs. They were so simple in make, anyone could have a similar pair. He saw the old wife arrange clothes on the line, and waited for her to enter the home. He knocked at the front door. There was no answer. After a third knock, he paced round the cottage to find the same line of clothes. The window shutters were open, and he saw no movement inside. He called out, but there was no response. A shirt brushed against him. The scene of the woman setting the clothes replayed in his mind, and details revealed a disturbing detail. The clothes he saw on the lines did not match the clothes he watched the woman place just moments before. A sinking feeling took the back of his mind, and with instinct he dashed away from the cottage. He was not allowed to see the source of his worry. A great force struck him into a tree.

He regained his posture. The cottage itself had distorted and shook about. It grew round until it was clear the cottage was worn over a larger object. It stood on many legs. The wall of the chimney side loosed a great, fat tail. The other end likewise sprouted a great neck. The monster's head was relatively tiny, and its beady eyes glared at its speculative snack. Its tail brandished its spiked end against Faust. He easily avoided the crushing blow. What remained of the cottage finally broke away. The breeze reminded him of his superiority in this fight.

Whenever he was outside in the open air, there was no adversary too great. This was his moment of heaven, his excuse to show a living creature the potential of the thing he loved most. To become the wind itself was his dream, and a great heat emitted from his anticipation. The club tail again sought his skull, but he instantly watched it halt in midair. Time slowed to a crawl as he jumped. He felt the great surge of energy in his legs. The sensation in the back of his mind was unforgettable. He felt weightless, completely free to cut through the air as he pleased. When his flight arced over the beast, he decided to take care of business rather than attain an even higher level of speed. His single step on the ground caused it to explode and burn, but he continued his flight beneath the dragon's neck. Once past it, he curved back along the monster's side. At this point he could see his trail, a line of airlessness. Once by the hindquarter, he went for the kill. A great heat expelled from him as he returned to the crater he made earlier. His entire body snapped ahead a few feet, and he was free from the heat. He lept while turning to see a ghostly image of himself. He let it explode while he repeated this process in the opposite direction. Once he landed, he felt excited enough to give the dragon a final blow. Rather than shed his image a second time, he concentrated the intense fire to his fist. The punch did not need to connect to the hide, but instead it delivered the packet of fire like an arrow. It was a clean bolt of light that pierced the flesh, which continued on its merry way to the mountains. As lengthy as this entire procedure seemed, the monster had not even landed the strike of its tail.

Four massive wounds had marred the dragon, but they had only begun their violent eruption of blood. Faust hopped back enough to avoid any geyser of guts. When these entrance and exit wounds finally burst forth in gore, only then did the final entrance and exit convulse with shock. Faust released his speed, and time gradually felt normal. That final blow he made was powerful enough to liquify and boil the monster all at once, and eject it away from the quick warrior. The spread of pulp smeared the landscape almost as far as the foothills. He would have celebrated this moment, but this was a dirty detour. The magistrate damn well knew there was no true cottage out here. Faust made his way back to town to give the man a piece of his mind.

Before he knew it, he tried his best not to fall to one knee. That spot on his back was unbearable. He straightened himself in pain, and arched his back to crack it. He stopped to catch his breath, and this stopped his usual thoughts altogether. Since when was he ever out of breath? He brushed aside the concern as a fluke, and returned to town.