Dragon King: Throne of Demons and Gods-Chapter 116: A Feast for Monsters

Airi stood on the rooftop, arms crossed, eyes sharp.

"What’s the matter?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Cat got your tongues all of a sudden? Who’s this Vale-something anyway? Is he the jerk responsible for this mess?"

The first figure turned slightly towards his companion.

"See, this is exactly why you should control that mouth of yours."

"Doesn’t really matter," the second figure shrugged calmly. "She can’t do anything if she never meets him."

Airi frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"Look, I don’t know who you creeps are, but I’ve had this weird little gift ever since I killed a thing for the first time. I have a radar for specific creatures, and it’s very active now..." Her voice lowered dangerously, eyes glinting. She slowly drew one of her twin swords, pointing it directly at them. "And hunting them down is my favorite kind of entertainment."

Meanwhile, Crest sprinted frantically through the streets, heart hammering in his chest.

He needed to get to the guild as fast as he could. He had to let everyone know, these undead weren’t normal. They were actually...

A sudden explosion shattered his thoughts, jolting Crest to a stop.

He spun around sharply, heart racing as he stared wide-eyed at the rising column of smoke.

He hesitated, trying desperately to refocus on the guild. Every second mattered, he had vital information that needed to be shared immediately.

But after taking only a few steps forward, a realization hit him like a punch to the gut.

That direction, that smoke—it came from exactly where Sienna and Dusteria’s inn was. His breath caught in his throat, panic surging through him.

"No... please no," he muttered desperately, turning on his heels and sprinting towards the devastation without another thought.

Across the capital, adventurers fought fiercely against the swarm of undead.

Individually weak, their sheer numbers were overwhelming.

Logan stared around, breathing hard as chaos filled the streets. His mind raced.

"Is this some kind of magic? Turning people who die into these undead things? But how? Who could even—"

A sudden chill raced down his spine.

Without thinking, Logan swung his shield upward just as something slammed into it with crushing force.

The impact exploded through his body, rattling his bones and throwing him backwards.

He crashed onto the ground, barely managing to hold his shield up.

His ears ringing, Logan slowly lifted his head. Standing calmly amidst the madness was a man dressed like a priest, with long, golden hair falling down his shoulders.

In his hands, he held a thick black book.

The priest shook his head slowly.

"Isn’t it truly pathetic? People these days... always searching for shortcuts. They walk paths others carved, claiming victory others made without effort. How utterly disgusting." His voice dripped with contempt.

He snapped his book shut loudly, making Logan flinch.

The priest narrowed his eyes.

"You see, this city was supposed to be in our jurisdiction. But look at them, rushing in, desperate to claim merits, impatiently ruining the proper order. True perfection demands time, diligence, and patience. You don’t plant a seed and demand it grows instantly. No! You nurture it, slowly, deliberately. Yet here they all come, recklessly trampling everything we’ve carefully arranged."

His voice rose, becoming feverish.

"Do you understand, adventurer? Can you see the beauty of true effort, the purity of careful preparation? Isn’t it far superior to this impatient chaos?"

Logan blinked, shaking the confusion from his head.

"You... who are you exactly?"

The priest rolled his eyes dramatically.

"Ah, of course. You’d recognize yourself in my words, wouldn’t you? You’re just as guilty. Tell me, why are you here, pretending to deliver justice? Isn’t that the knights’ job? Why are you adventurers always forcing yourselves into matters that aren’t yours, creating extra work for everyone else just to prove your worthless existence?"

His voice turned bitter and cold, eyes narrowing to dangerous slits.

"I suppose I’ll have to fix this imbalance myself, by removing adventurers entirely from the equation."

Logan tightened his grip on his shield, raising it defensively.

"Who... who are you?"

The priest sighed deeply, looking almost bored now.

"It would indeed be troublesome if every fool asked me that same tiresome question. Fine, I’ll answer you just once, so you can tell the others in death."

Slowly, he straightened, placing a hand ceremoniously over his chest.

"I am Akedios, messenger of the Slumbering King."

As the chaos unfolded, in the inn half-destroyed with thick smoke swirling heavily in the air, Sienna pushed herself off the ground, her heart racing.

"Dusteria!" she shouted, her voice trembling as her eyes frantically searched through the debris. "Dusteria, where are you?!"

A faint cough came from beneath a pile of shattered wood and broken stone. Sienna’s eyes widened, her fear momentarily giving way to relief.

She rushed over, pulling away the rubble until she found Dusteria curled on the ground, coughing weakly.

"Are you okay? Can you move?" Sienna asked quickly, helping her friend sit up.

Dusteria nodded weakly, her face pale.

"I-I’m fine..."

But it was a quick relief.

A low, guttural groan echoed behind them. Their relief vanished instantly as they spun around.

From the smoke and shadows, figures stumbled forward, undead, their eyes lifeless yet fixated hungrily on them.

Sienna grabbed her sword quickly, her breath coming in short, panicked bursts.

"Stay behind me, Dusteria."

Dusteria squeezed her eyes shut, shaking as the panic consumed her.

"Please," she murmured softly, almost like a prayer. "Someone... Anyone... Bel..."

A sudden flash of light pierced through the smoke. Crest landed in front of them, his blade slicing through several undead.

He twisted with a grace different than what they were used to see, although at this moment, any help would probably look like a miracle.

His sword flashed again and again, cutting down the undead effortlessly, leaving nothing but silence behind.

Dusteria’s eyes flew open, disbelief mixing with relief.

"Crest...?"

He turned around swiftly, eyes filled with concern.

"Are you both alright?"

Sienna nodded quickly, her eyes wide. "Yes...thanks to you."

Crest sighed deeply, clearly relieved.

"Good. I was worried when I saw the explosion."

An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment. Crest’s expression softened, and he seemed hesitant, as if searching for the right words.

"Listen... I know things have been rough between us lately. I’ve said things I regret, and it made things awkward. But seeing you two in real danger, I realized none of those issues matter compared to losing either of you. I couldn’t handle that. Whatever happened before, I just want you to know you’re both incredibly important to me. I’m truly sorry for how I’ve acted."

Sienna looked down, a little embarrassed by Crest’s sudden openness but grateful.

"Same here. Things got tense, but...it doesn’t matter now." freёnovelkiss-com

Dusteria was quieter, her eyes drifting uncertainly. She felt relieved, of course, but part of her still held onto the bitterness from their past arguments.

More than that, she felt conflicted, her thoughts shifting to Bel, wondering how he might have handled this situation.

She wasn’t sure how to respond, but after a pause, she managed a faint, hesitant smile.

They shared a brief, warm smile amidst the chaos, a rare moment of genuine relief.

But then, a chilling voice broke through, dripping with a strange, mocking hunger.

"I appreciate people’s creativity, but I prefer when they respec the menu."

All three froze, slowly turning their gazes to the voice.

From the flames stepped an elegant figure dressed in a flowing black and purple gown, the silk shimmering ominously.

Her face was hidden beneath a grotesque pig skull mask, her posture graceful yet disturbingly predatory.

"This breakfast has enough savor as it is, so sweetness isn’t needed."

Vezalia had returned.

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