The Demon King's Sweet Conquest (GL) - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Dragon’s Blood

What happened?!

This question floated in the minds of many knights on the battlefield. Sir Henry’s knighthood was built on a foundation of gold. As a nouveau riche who had never tasted blood or wind, and lacked extraordinary ancestors, he naturally couldn’t assemble a decent cavalry.

In the scattered, lagging cavalry ranks, many were mere mercenaries who had just learned to ride, more accustomed to using poison or ropes than swords.

Thus, they didn’t understand why the horses suddenly grew restless, even bolting out of control. Weren’t they fine just a moment ago?

They should thank the night—thank the night for making the footsteps of terror less obvious.

Viola drew her blade. For them, this was an honor—an honor they would never have received in broad daylight. The crimson sword-light was like a beam of light cast before the gates of purgatory opened. This beam struck out in a crescent chain, cleaving the air and the “objects” standing in its path in two.

The “formation” of this ragtag bunch actually held for a few breaths longer than a disciplined phalanx might have, like a long rope being cut sequentially by a pair of scissors.

Viola pulled the reins to turn her horse. With one strike, it wasn’t hard to see that these people were mere small fry, certainly not the pursuers sent by Francis.

Furthermore, that man wouldn’t truly go that far.

With her here, he wouldn’t dare.

A trapezoidal pool of blood bloomed behind Viola. In the cavalry squad of a dozen, the only one truly charging and killing was her at the lead.

The Dragonheart Lord didn’t need humans to act as her wings. The elite cavalry she brought were only there to protect Cynthia’s safety.

“My Lady, what should we do next?” the adjutant asked, looking worriedly at the messy ground. These “small fry” cavalry clearly weren’t from Morin Town. Skulking in the dark to launch a surprise attack suggested they were bandits or something similar.

Searching for clues among the remains scattered by the sword-qi? That seemed a bit messy.

“Don’t worry about those on the ground; the people of Morin Town will clean it up themselves.” Viola glanced indifferently at the scene. “Continue the journey. We must reach the Free City as soon as possible.”

Once they reached the Free City, they could switch to a water route and quickly return to the Ruby Isles—her own territory.

The sound of hoofbeats faded into the night.

Morning always comes. Floria rolled around in her soft cotton quilt. A Demon King could replace sleep with meditation, but last night, her head hit the pillow and she was out instantly, with her sister Katerina lying beside her.

Two girls, one big and one small, with no one to disturb them.

Except for a certain devil, who kindly provided a wake-up service by blowing into Floria’s ear until the itch was unbearable: “Miss, it is time for breakfast.”

“Barbatos, you could have woken me up in my mind.”

“Highness, I am indeed waking you up.”

It took Floria a few seconds to understand her meaning. To show she wasn’t a late sleeper, she crawled out of bed to wait for the maid to help her change—she’d heard that’s how noble ladies did it.

“Miss, let me help you dress.” A pre-prepared dress appeared in Barbatos’s hands.

“I’ll do it.” Floria snatched the dress and pulled it directly over her head, getting magnificently stuck like a sausage.

“Miss, you didn’t undo the laces at the top.”

“I. Said. I’ll. Do. It!”

“Yes.” Barbatos picked up the half-shrouded Floria, sat her on the edge of the bed, and helped her put on her shoes. By the time the “sausage” had two shoes, the dress was still stuck over her head.

“…”

In the silence, Barbatos untied the mysterious silk laces for Floria, letting the dress settle properly.

“Barbatos, let’s go out and see if there’s anything to take care of.” Floria pretended nothing had happened. They took on these identities to gain advantages; there was no need to hide that.

The letter hadn’t mentioned the mercenary’s name, so calling her Barbatos was fine.

Breakfast was simple and hearty: purple grape-like fruit, red berry jam, a sandwich made of egg and pork, milk, and a grilled sausage.

After finishing and setting down her utensils, before Floria could figure out how to naturally demand administrative rights and explain the crisis, the old knight named Claude stepped forward, looking like he had something to say.

He seemed to be hesitating whether he should worry the thirteen-year-old Miss Floria with terrifying matters. But regardless, letting the seven-year-old Katerina handle things was even less appropriate.

“Grandpa Claude, you can speak freely about whatever is on your mind.” Having heard Katerina use that address yesterday, Floria followed suit.

“Miss, actually, something has happened at the city gate.” Claude chose his words carefully. “Sir Henry and some cavalry are dead outside.”

Floria almost forgot the name Henry—wasn’t he the villain who wanted to swallow his wife’s territory?

“Him? Why is he dead outside?” She wasn’t surprised Henry had come for a surprise attack last night. Having killed his wife and stepdaughter, he had to pull up the roots early, didn’t he? Bullying a few-year-old child with only one piece of land left wasn’t exactly a high-difficulty task.

“To our shame, we cannot determine the cause. The traces outside the city are… a bit strange.” The old knight lowered his head.

“Let me see.” The knife and fork were set aside on the plate, and Floria stood up to leave.

“Miss, there is blood everywhere!”

“Grandpa Claude, how much longer can you look after us?” This sentence was quite blunt, but it successfully made the old knight retract his blocking arm.

Floria apologized inwardly, but she didn’t want to be restricted by her age at every turn. Putting aside the convenience of gaining power and contacting the world, the real Floria certainly wouldn’t have pushed her obligations onto her younger sister.

Upon seeing the blood-red trapezoid, her demon blood prevented an outbreak of human terror. Psychological discomfort was replaced by inquiry.

“What kind of thing caused this damage?” It looked more like a large weapon or magic than something human.

“It’s a dragon,” Barbatos’s voice was certain.

“A dragon?!” someone exclaimed.

“It doesn’t look like it at all!” Floria shook her head. “Where are the claw marks or bite marks?” It was clearly two very flat trapezoids.

“To be precise, a half-dragon. A creature with at least half-dragon blood.” Barbatos insisted on her view. “Their aura is very thick after entering a dragonized state. It clings to the ground and will take at least two days to dissipate unless it rains.”

“Is that so? That’s quite rare then.” Floria had no concept of half-dragons and replied casually.

But she remembered something: she still had to try and rescue the “mother,” even though she was likely dead. Even if that one couldn’t be saved, perhaps she could eye the territory Henry left behind?

From the way Katerina had lost territories one after another due to her weakness, it was clear this country might be trapped in some state of chaos. As long as there was a reason or a distant relation, anyone could take a shot at a claim.

“Grandpa Claude, we should go to Rock City. Since Sir Henry appeared here, Mother might be in danger.” She had handed over the letter last night, and she didn’t know what the people in this town thought. Originally worried about Henry’s attack, that concern was now completely gone.

Thanks to the ring on Sir Henry’s finger, everyone could barely identify his body. Of course, he and his subordinates would be buried together—one can’t take worldly possessions with them.

“Miss, you can write a letter first, and then we will send someone to negotiate with the people of Melanchthon City.” Claude led Floria back, instructing the guards to continue clearing the site.

“Negotiate,” again? Floria understood immediately: “her” own territory had issues too. Fine, this Highness Demon King isn’t afraid. Whoever is behind this, I’ll turn them into a ghost.

Back in her room, after finishing the letter at the desk, Floria twirled her quill: “Barbatos, compared to the half-dragon that caused that carnage, who is stronger?”

She desperately wanted to understand the power scaling. If this world was full of strategic-weapon-level beings and the devils’ strength wasn’t up to par, she might as well keep her neck clean and wait for the slaughter.

“It’s hard to say. This subordinate did not see last night’s battle, and the strength gap between different half-dragons is immense.” Barbatos pushed up the glasses she had hidden after disguising herself as a mercenary.

“Well, are there many half-dragons? Are there many as strong as the one last night?” That was the key point; she didn’t want to become their XP.

“There shouldn’t be many. The Company selects worlds with appropriate power ranges when transporting dungeons.” The devil’s words made sense. A world too weak has no value, and a world too strong would definitely have specialized elites attacking it. A world suitable for a newcomer is likely a pyramid-shaped one, with enough space to grow and rare resources to acquire.

“Then let’s not think so far ahead for now. Regarding Melanchthon City, what’s the best next step?”

With no one else around, Barbatos didn’t hide it: “If there truly is a traitor in Melanchthon City, Xin Lian’s ability is perfectly suited.”

“You mean dream-walking? Isn’t the distance too far?”

“It’s not far. Xin Lian can jump through dreams, and the flight speed of a Dream Demon is among the top of the devils. If the flight takes less than two days, she only needs to prepare in advance.”

It sounded like Barbatos had given another good suggestion. Floria didn’t doubt her people: “Fine, then contact Xin Lian. I’ll leave her arrangements to you for these few days. I want to know generally what is happening in Melanchthon City.”

“Yes.” A small smile tugged at the devil’s mouth.

Dreams are perhaps the gift bestowed by the gods upon their creations. They are a harbor for the heart, a domain where the spirit relaxes.

In her dream, Cynthia rested under an apple tree. The fatigue in her subconscious kept her eyes closed even in the dream. Aside from the apples on this tree being a vivid red, the surrounding city walls were entirely blue-gray. They blocked the surging blood-color, but they couldn’t block an intruder with intent.

A sharp weapon sliced through the shadows, and an armored devil descended into the dream.

Just as the devil stepped onto the blue-gray grass, the entire dream suddenly ignited with gold-red flames. As Cynthia opened her eyes in the dream, Viola’s figure materialized simultaneously.

“Auntie?” Cynthia called out unconsciously.

“Cynthia, run. Run as far as you can,” Viola’s voice was solemn.

“Please rest assured, my target is not that child, but you yourself. A dragon’s dream is truly difficult to invade.” The expression beneath the mask couldn’t be seen, but the devil must have been sneering. “I have one matter I need you to clarify. Please.”

The blades were unsheathed at the same time.

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