I'd known, intellectually, that actual dragons were much different from Lung. They were existences of fantasy rather than passengers meddling, creatures that man didn't understand and so had gained a degree of power that modern weapons couldn't touch. Lung's scales, I could have cut through. Punched through with a knife or a bullet, or failing that, one of Bitch's dogs could have torn him up with their teeth. His mouth was armored, but although his biology was strange and inhuman, he himself was still just as human as any other cape. I could have drowned him in bugs, the same way I had Alexandria, if I wasn't afraid to lose twice the number to his flames.
A real dragon, it turned out, wasn't that easy to put down.
My harmless fliers came within reach of the dragon's mouth and nostrils, and the sheer power, the dense magical energy in its breath killed them immediately, overloaded their bodies until they burst, raining their guts down to the ground in a disgusting shower of yellowish viscera. The beast swung its long neck to and fro, and with every pass, anything that came within three feet of its fangs simply exploded.
The wasps didn't fare much better. They flew towards the beast's eyes, stingers out, and thrust them with all their meager strength towards the vulnerable tissue, but when the narrow points came into contact with the dragon's eyes, they skidded off, like there was some membrane as strong as iron that they just couldn't penetrate.
A dragon's entire body was Mystery. I hadn't thought much of that lesson, at the time, beyond filing away the important bit for later: Mystery could only be beaten by a stronger Mystery. It had sounded like sophistry, like some zen koan that was supposed to be incredibly insightful or a recursive argument that wound back on itself.
I was beginning to see what it meant, now. A dragon was a creature of mystery that existed in the realm of fantasy, and that meant that the only way to kill it was to have enough magical power to hurt it. My bugs, meagre existences that had so little strength on their own, either in the physical sense or the magical sense, couldn't even pierce its flesh, let alone the scales that covered it like armor. Even my wasps couldn't hope to hurt it at all.