Devouring Dragon Heir-Chapter 39: Ch Lady Crimson

BAAAM!

A solid wooden table, heavy and ornate, exploded under the fist of Ragna Crimson.

Splinters flew, a cloud of fine dust erupted, and the remaining pieces clattered loudly onto the polished floor of his office.

Ragna Crimson, the Guild Master of the formidable Crimson Guild and a renowned S-ranked hunter, stood amidst the wreckage, his face contorted in a mask of pure fury.

Why such an outburst, one might ask?

Well, he had just received confirmation that the entire Swamp Python Dungeon, a massive A-ranked gate, had vanished.

It was gone, completely and irrevocably.

This dungeon had been a cornerstone of his guild’s wealth and influence in the capital city for years.

All these years, Ragna had struggled immensely, pouring every ounce of his energy into proving his worth and gaining the approval of his family.

He belonged to the Crimson family, a lineage that boasted a deep and ancient legacy in this world, dating back centuries.

Within his family, the competition was cutthroat, relentless, and unforgiving.

He was, by most accounts, considered the least talented of his siblings, often overshadowed by their innate gifts and prodigious achievements.

Yet, against all odds, after years of grueling competition, internal strife, and external battles, he had finally managed to establish the Crimson Guild.

He had painstakingly built it from the ground up, pushing it through sheer force of will and ruthlessness, until it reached the very top of the guild hierarchy on the continent.

He couldn’t even count the number of lives he had reaped, the rivals he had crushed, the deals he had broken, just to carve out his own path and cement his position in this brutal society.

He had used every tool at his disposal, his powerful family name,

vast sums of inherited money, veiled threats, and overt displays of force, all to rise in this "shitty, dog-eat-dog world"

But now, just out of thin air, without warning or explanation,

half of his meticulously built influence in the capital city was simply gone. frёewebηovel.cѳm

The loss of the Swamp Python Dungeon alone was a severe blow to his guild’s revenue and prestige.

"Fuck, I can’t accept this!" he growled, his voice a low, dangerous rumble.

He slumped into his ornate leather chair, its plush cushions doing little to ease the tension in his rigid posture.

He looked utterly exhausted, his anger slowly fading

But his moment of reprieve was short-lived.

The heavy wooden door to his office, despite his earlier outburst, silently opened.

A mature lady, elegant and poised, walked in.

She was clad in a flowing, deep-red gown that seemed to absorb the light, and she carried a small, black purse in her gloved hands.

Her presence instantly shifted the atmosphere in the room.

Looking at her, Ragna stiffened.

He immediately pushed himself upright, standing as straight as a pole, his exhaustion vanishing in an instant. His previous rage was entirely suppressed.

"I greet Lady Crimson," he said, his voice respectful, almost deferential.

This was not a woman to trifle with.

Lady Crimson, her gaze sweeping calmly over the broken furniture and splintered table, a faint smirk playing on her lips, chuckled softly.

It was a pleasant sound, but it sent a shiver down Ragna’s spine.

Sweat, cold and unwelcome, beaded on his forehead.

He immediately addressed the lady politely, his tone devoid of any of his earlier aggression.

"My lady, pardon my unsightly surroundings. Please, allow me to escort you to the guest area, where we can speak more comfortably."

"Hmm, lead the way, Ragna," she said, her voice confident and smooth, utterly unhurried.

Her gaze lingered on the remnants of his anger for another moment before she turned.

Once they were inside the guild’s opulent guest hall, a room specifically designed for important visitors, they both sat on opposite, plush sofas.

The silence stretched for a moment before Ragna, recovering his composure, decided to break the ice.

"My lady, what matter is it that concerns you, that you have graced us with your presence this morning?" he asked, maintaining a facade of polite curiosity.

Lady Crimson, ever so calm and composed, gently replied, her voice soft but clear,

"Well, Ragna, I just heard someone lost a major asset of his guild. A very prominent dungeon, if my information is correct."

Ragna felt a fresh wave of sweat break out.

He thought immediately of the Swamp Python Dungeon. He instinctively braced himself, preparing to face severe implications and repercussions related to the incident.

The Crimson family rarely tolerated such significant losses.

But the lady’s voice, surprisingly, seemed to calm him down as she continued.

"Don’t worry, Ragna. I am not here to blame you. This is not the first case of such an event happening, as you well know. I simply came here with an important piece of news related to that very phenomenon."

Ragna’s tension eased slightly, replaced by professional curiosity. "Oh? What might that be, my lady?" he inquired.

"You see, Ragna, the gates that have disappeared across the capital are not a natural phenomenon, as some of the more ignorant factions believe.

Nor are they curses. These are, in fact, a deliberate act by someone. A single entity, we believe."

Her voice dropped slightly, becoming more serious.

"Although, the critical questions of who is responsible, how they are accomplishing this, and precisely when they will appear again, remain unanswered for now."

She paused, allowing the gravity of her words to sink in.

"This piece of news has already been circulated to almost every legacy family and top faction across the continent. Everyone is on high alert."

Ragna’s face, already flushed from his earlier rage, turned as red as a ripe tomato with renewed fury.

Someone had dared to steal his property, his hard-earned assets.

The audacity of it burned within him.

He wanted nothing more than to rip that person apart, to exact a brutal vengeance for the insult and the damage.

But no matter how angry he became, he did not dare to flare his potent S-rank aura in front of Lady Crimson.

Her own power, while carefully contained, felt far more vast and immense than his own.

"I guess I will take my leave now, Ragna,"

Lady Crimson said, rising gracefully from the sofa. She walked towards the door, then paused, turning back.

"Ah, and one more thing," she added, her tone shifting to a more personal.

"My daughter is going to attend the Guardian Academy this year. Make sure to arrange everything for her travel and accommodation during the ranking test. Ensure she has the best resources, without drawing undue attention."

Ragna stood up again, as straight and stiff as a pole, his posture reflecting his absolute obedience.

"It will be done, my lady" he affirmed, his voice firm and unwavering.

He understood the immense importance of this task. Ensuring the success and comfort of a Crimson family direct descendant at the prestigious academy was paramount.

---

Klaus had just come out of a steaming hot shower, the lingering warmth a comforting contrast to the icy cold of the dungeons he had spent the last five days conquering.

He was completely unaware of the profound balance he had shaken in the natural flow of society, the chaos and panic his actions had sown among the most powerful factions of the capital city.

He simply toweled off, his mind already drifting to his next objective.

"The Undead Cemetery gate might be a hassle for me," Klaus mused aloud, considering the S-ranked darkness dungeon. "Well, I guess my summons would be able to do half the work."

He had acquired formidable allies in his journey, six S-rank bosses now at his command, not to mention his vast army of A ranked monsters.

He could deploy them as a vanguard, allowing him to conserve his own strength for the core challenges.

He lay down on the plush bed in his hotel room, a deep sigh escaping him.

As his head hit the pillow, exhaustion, deep and pervasive, finally took over him.

For over five continuous days, he had sustained his stamina and combat readiness solely on potions and his System’s innate regenerative capabilities.

His body and mind, though incredibly resilient, finally demanded true rest. He succumbed to a deep, dreamless sleep.

--

Klaus woke up with his eyes blurry. The ceiling of the hotel was not above him.

Instead, he saw a soft, diffused light filtering through his eyelids.

He slowly blinked, his vision gradually clearing. He looked around only to find himself lying on a grassy, gently sloping ground.

The warm sunlight, surprisingly gentle and diffused, reflected softly on his face, indicating a clear, pleasant day.

He could feel a cool, refreshing wind brushing past his face, carrying with it a delicate fragrance. The smell of lilies, sweet and earthy, wafted to his nose, a stark contrast to the sterile air of the dungeons.

A profound sense of relief, unexpected and overwhelming, washed over his entire body. It was a feeling of peace he hadn’t experienced since his transmigration.

His senses felt acutely enhanced: his sense of touch, the subtle texture of the grass beneath him; his sense of smell, the distinct perfume of the flowers; and his vision, the vividness of the colors around him.

He looked around.

He was lying on a sprawling, flowery hill, covered in a vibrant carpet of green grass and colorful blooms.

The sky above was a clear, brilliant blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds.

The pleasant, rhythmic chirping of cicadas filled the air, a soothing, natural sound that brought an unexpected sense of calm.

"Is this heaven?" Klaus asked aloud, his voice sounding strangely small and unfamiliar. He immediately recognized the question was illogical, given his previous status.

"Did I die of exhaustion? Did I push myself too hard with those dungeons?" he wondered, reaching up to touch his face.

To his surprise, the sensation was entirely different. His fingers felt softer, pudgier. He looked at his hands, turning them over, and was genuinely shocked to see small, fat hands, clearly those of a child, perhaps a five-year-old toddler.

His clothes were not his modern combat attire, but instead looked like simple, soft garments from a medieval era: a loose tunic and breeches, made of plain, homespun fabric.

His height was significantly shorter; he was clearly lying very close to the ground.

"Fuck, did I transmigrate again???" Klaus exclaimed, a genuine note of surprise and disbelief in his voice, surprised by the vivid reality of his surroundings.

This was completely unexpected. He had not received any system notifications about a new world or a new body.

"Hayeee! Finnnnn!" A cute, high-pitched girlish voice suddenly sounded in the distance. Klaus blinked, trying to locate the source.

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