VOLUME 11: CHAPTER 12

“What’s… this?”

“They’re retreating?”

The beastmen that had been struggling to defend the Talverton Stronghold were stupefied upon seeing the demon army retreating to the Iron Mountains. Almost as though fleeing from their enemies, tens of thousands of demons started running back in the direction they came from.

Even the Fire Giants that had been pulverizing the stone towers turned back, groaned, and started walking toward the Iron Mountains.

The sudden turn of events was so surreal that the beastmen warriors stood there, dumbfounded, as they watched the demons retreating.

“Is this… real?”

“We… won?”

“We won!”

After a full minute passed, reality started sinking in, and the beastmen warriors that survived the onslaught burst into cheers. They’d been expecting to die that night and enter the Three Gods’ domain, but fate had a twisted ending.

“We did it!”

“We defended the Stronghold!”

“As expected of the Beast King! Even those monsters started retreating out of fear!”

Hearing this, the Beast King frowned. There were still tens of thousands of demons left, and had it not been for the Scylla and the Fire Dragon, a hundred thousand more would have already reached this place.

Did they really win the battle?

Or did they simply manage to defend this place?

For the Beast King, the true outcome was apparent.

“Vaungur,” said the Beast King.

“Your Majesty,” replied his second-in-command.

“Did you hear it? The sound of a flute.”

Vaungur nodded his head. Unlike the beastmen warriors who’d been rejoicing, his face was grim. He, too, held the same thoughts as the Beast King. “Yes. It’s a sound filled with mana. And it seems to be the signal for the demons’ retreat.”

“Those demons,” said the Beast King as he watched their retreating backs. “They didn’t retreat out of fear. Someone ordered them to do it.”

“I believe so, too, Your Majesty,” said Vaungur.

The Beast King gnashed his teeth. He growled, “The one who played the flute must be their leader. We must kill him, no matter what.”

Although they’d managed to repel the demons’ advance, the Beast King was still seething with anger. Even now, innumerable corpses of his kin littered the battlefield.

The scent of blood permeating the air remained strong and thick. He could see the scorched and dismembered corpses of his fellow beastmen. Their anguished expressions before their deaths were seen on their severed heads.

The Beast King looked up. Now that the sun had started rising, he could feel his strength diminishing by half.

“Vaungur,” said the Beast King.

“Your Majesty.”

“I’ll leave the reorganization of the army to you. Burn the bodies of the beastmen who’d been parasitized, treat the injured, and facilitate the repair of the stone towers and walls.”

The Beast King was decisive in his decisions.

Although they could still save the beastmen parasitized by the demons, according to King Lark, it would still take them some time to mass-produce a cure for everyone. Especially so for an army this large.

The Beast King knew that leaving them alive would only harm the surviving beastmen. Thus, although cruel, he decided to kill and burn the bodies of those that had been parasitized by the demons. It was the only way he could further reduce the casualties and risk on their side.

“Burn their bodies….”

Even Vaungur hesitated upon receiving the Beast King’s orders.

“I will shoulder all responsibility for this,” said the Beast King. “This sin… I shall carry it until my dying breath. So, Vaungur, do it.”

Vaungur lowered his head. He felt shame for questioning the Beast King’s will and orders. Out of everyone here, Vaungur was the one who knew the heart of the Beast King the most. Although some called the Beast King a tyrant, Vaungur knew that he cared for the Alliance more than anyone.

“As you command,” said Vaungur.

The Beast King started putting more mana into his feet. “I’ll chase after the retreating demons. Do not allow anyone to follow after me. They’ll be nothing but a hindrance.”

“Do you plan on finding their leader, Your Majesty?” said Vaungur.

It was a reckless plan. But for someone as powerful as the White Lion, it should be possible to successfully pull it off.

The Beast King bared his fangs. “The one who played that flute. I’ll rip him to shreds and end this stupid invasion once and for all with my own hands.”

After uttering those words, without looking back, the Beast King shot toward the demons retreating from a distance.

***

While flying in the sky, the Scylla smugly looked at the aftermath of its attacks. The ground below was filled with massive fissures and craters, and the blood of the tens of thousands of demon corpses it killed dyed the ground blue.

“This is my win, hatchling,” declared Blackie confidently.

Although thousands of demons were still alive below, it was apparent with just a glance that Blackie had won their little competition.

And the reason was simple:

Agnus, after running out of mana, had polymorphed back into his human form. He floated in the sky, right beside the seven-headed monster. Unlike before, Agnus’ hair and clothes were a mess. After he ran low on mana, some of the twin-headed wyverns managed to pierce through his scales and inflict injury on his flesh.

After polymorphing, Agnus’ destroyed scales turned into tattered, dirty-looking clothes. Although he’d already healed the wounds inflicted by the twin-headed wyverns and sky demons, he no longer held the same indescribable elegance as before.

“Damn it,” Agnus clicked his tongue. “This doesn’t count! Again! Let’s do it again!”

Agnus was in complete denial of their little competition’s outcome. He couldn’t believe he had lost against a mere Earth Scylla.

Although his father had repeatedly told him to be wary of Blackie, Agnus didn’t really take that warning to heart and arrogantly accepted the challenge thrown at him.

He believed that even if he hadn’t reached full maturity yet, even if he was still a mere hatchling, it should still be possible for him to win against an adult Scylla.

After all, Dragons were regarded to be superior to those seven-headed lizards. In terms of hierarchy, only Gryphons should be their match.

Initially, Agnus was winning their bet with his overwhelming power. His breath attacks easily scorched and eradicated the demons below, and his powerful wings easily tore through the Sky Demons in the sky.

For almost an hour, Agnus fired powerful breath attacks one after another. His fire breath created a wall of inferno and melted the ground itself.

Back then, he was in euphoria. He felt unstoppable, and he was certain that he would win their bet no matter what. He didn’t hold back and fired his most powerful attacks.

And now, after failing to properly conserve his mana, he found himself in this mess.

“A slave for a decade,” said Blackie. One of its heads fired a torrent of fire at the retreating demons below, killing hundreds of them with that single attack. “You remember the promise, right?”

Agnus turned pallid.

He realized that he’d been stupid.

Why did he accept the bet in the first place?

His father had already warned him that the Scylla serving King Lark was unusual. According to Vulcan, despite being a mere Scylla, Blackie was very intelligent and held large amounts of mana in its body. Moreover, it was adept in fighting and even specialized in subduing dragons after learning from the Dragon Devourer himself.

“T-This doesn’t count!” protested Agnus. “The demons! Look at them! They’re retreating!”

Blackie cackled.

The first head moved closer to Agnus, glared at him, and hissed threateningly, “So what? They’re retreating? Of course! That is natural! After all, they’re fighting against God Evander himself!”

It was amazing that the Scylla managed to interpose a praise for its beloved God Evander even now.

The sixth head also moved closer to Agnus. It squinted. “Hatchling, are you backing down? Even without counting the corpses, it’s apparent we have twice your kill count.”

While the third head calmly observed the demons retreating below, the seventh head spoke, “It seems we’ve lived too long. We’ve met numerous dragons before, back when we were still travelling with the Master. But this is the first time we’ve seen a Dragon blatantly going back on his word. How… pathetic.”

Those last few words pierced Agnus right in the chest. He felt so ashamed that he averted his gaze.

“B-But… does it make sense?” mumbled Agnus.

“What?” the seventh head spat.

“I’m a Dragon!” roared Agnus indignantly. “A creature that stands above all! Why should I serve a mere Scylla like you!”

By strength alone, it was a commonly accepted fact that Dragons and Gryphons were far stronger than Scyllas. But such rules didn’t apply to Blackie, who’d been trained personally by the Dragon Devourer himself.

“So what if you’re a Dragon?” said the second head. “Why does that matter!”

The fourth head declared, “From today onward, until a decade passes by, you’re our slave, lizard!”

“You vowed, hatchling!” roared the first head.

Agnus groaned.

He wanted to refute that statement.

He wanted to say that this was unfair. That he shouldn’t have accepted that bet.

But Agnus’ pride could no longer bear the shame. He hung his head low. With a dejected voice, he said, “T-Ten years is nothing for a Dragon anyway. F-Fine! I’ll be your slave!”

A Dragon could live even up to a year. Agnus consoled himself with this fact.

The eyes of Blackie glimmered. The heads looked at each other and grinned.

“Very well,” said the first head mischievously. “Then, you can start by calling us Master. Go on. Say it.”

Agnus swallowed dry spit.

It took him his everything to utter his next words, “M-Master.”

“Louder.”

Agnus clenched his fists. And in a louder voice, he said, “M-Master!”

He sounded like a pig being slaughtered.

“Clearer!”

Agnus roared, “Master! Now, are you satisfied! Huh!”

Agnus’ elegance and domineering appearance had long disappeared by now. Due to his naïve decision, he’d become the slave of the Scylla he hated the most. How truly humiliating!

Seeing his flustered look, Blackie smiled in satisfaction.

“Good. From now on, for the next ten years, you’ll listen to our every command.”

Agnus glared at Blackie. His eyes screamed that he would kill the seven-headed monster once ten years had passed. That he would do it, even if it meant death, no matter what. Until their contract was finally over, he would carry this grudge.

“If you were as smart as your sister, you wouldn’t have accepted our bet,” said the second head. “No matter how powerful Dragons are, a hatchling is still a hatchling.”

“Kakaka!” laughed the first head. “I can still remember his face when he ran out of mana!”

“He should have known that undoing his polymorph would consume a large portion of his mana reserves!” added the fourth head. “What a fool!”

Agnus’ face burned red from shame and anger.

While Blackie was taunting him, they noticed the Beast King running on the ground below, following the retreating demons.

Unlike before, the Beast King didn’t kill the demons he passed by along the way. Instead, he stealthily moved with the retreating army.

“What is he doing?” said the seventh head.

The third head gazed at the Beast King below, at the Talverton Stronghold behind them, then in front – in the direction of the Iron Mountains.

For several seconds, the third head put the pieces of the puzzle together.

“The owner of the flute,” said the third head. “He must be following the retreating demons to find the one controlling the horde.”

With Blackie’s intelligence, it easily arrived to this answer.

After the sound filled with mana was heard by the demons, all of them retreated without exemption. Since even the Fire Giants followed suit, it was apparent that the owner of the flute was controlling the demon horde.

The Scylla channeled mana into the communication crystal gifted to it by Lark.

“God Evander.”

Blackie couldn’t hide the excitement within its voice. He realized it was a good opportunity to contact his God.

It had been only several hours, but Blackie already missed hearing Lark’s voice. He missed hearing his commands.

After several seconds passed, Lark’s voice was heard through the artifact.

“Blackie, what is it?”

Blackie cleared its throat. Respectfully, it said, “G-God Evander! The demons are retreating, and the Beast King is following the horde in search of the one who played the flute! If you give us the order to attack the retreating demons, we’ll attack! If you order us to search for the one controlling the demon army, we’ll find and present him before you! Please give us your command, our God!”

No matter what Lark’s orders would be, Blackie wouldn’t hesitate in fulfilling them. Blackie expectantly listened to Lark’s following words.

“Do not give chase,” said Lark calmly. “Let the demons retreat to the Iron Mountains.”

“Then… the owner of the flute?” said Blackie.

“I’ll look for him myself. Blackie, go back to the Stronghold.”

Blackie didn’t dare question Lark’s will. “Understood, God Evander.”

Blackie firmly believed that Lark must have his reasons. He would never let Blackie venture into enemy territory alone if he deemed it too dangerous. Whoever or whatever the creature controlling the horde was, it was probably someone powerful enough to threaten even an Earth Scylla.

Blackie gazed at the Beast King, who’d crossed a great distance by now.

“Pitiful mutt,” said Blackie. “You’re venturing into a place even God Evander judged as dangerous.”

Blackie muttered, “How reckless. Just pray and hope you’ll survive long enough until God Evander arrives.”

Together with Agnus, Blackie returned to the Talverton Stronghold.