Dragon King: Throne of Demons and Gods-Chapter 145: Demonitazion

Bel placed his hand gently against Sienna’s forehead.

The moment his skin met hers, the familiar flash returned, but this time, he didn’t pull away.

He held, and the world began to change.

A single pulse of violet light shimmered across her skin like the ripple of a drop in calm water.

The space around them shimmered faintly, then fractured. A thin line of black lightning crackled from her forehead and split the air, like ink cracking porcelain.

It arced outward, dancing above the wildflowers and knights frozen in place.

Then came the second flash.

This one burst like a firework: brilliant, blinding. It exploded in perfect silence, a blossom of violet and black that rippled through the atmosphere.

The air distorted, light bent, and the space seemed to fold inward on itself.

The wind didn’t move. The flowers didn’t sway. The birds above were painted still in the air.

But the destruction had begun.

The black lightning multiplied, clawing through the ground like serpents loosed from a divine cage. They carved through the landscape, severing the unnatural bonds that had held this place hostage.

The earth beneath Sienna’s knees trembled. The curse began to recoil as the Authority of Destruction operated.

Then came the bloom.

From the center of his palm, the Mark of Destruction glowed. The pentagram flared wide, stretching its edges until it covered her entire body.

Symbols ignited on Sienna’s face, each one glowing brighter than the last.

Bel’s eyes narrowed.

The firework of ruin became a storm.

An eruption of violet fire surged upward like a geyser, consuming the clearing.

A gale of wind surged from the epicenter, and at last, the spell of stillness broke.

Time snapped back, but only around Sienna.

She remained on her knees, immobile, her posture exactly as before.

But now, she was different.

The Mark of Destruction pulsed on her forehead, a dark sigil etched like a tattoo, glowing with layered rings of red and black.

The air around her shimmered faintly.

Her face was calm. Too calm. It wore the same relaxed expression as before, but now it emanated something else. As if she was... More alive than a minute ago.

Bel stood above her, watching in silence. Slowly, he knelt and reached out. His fingers brushed against her hair, sweeping a lock from her cheek.

Nothing happened.

No flash this time.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"You’re free," he murmured.

The curse was gone. She had been severed from the unnatural time that bound this place. The Mark of Destruction had worked.

He exhaled, but just as his thoughts started to drift, a soft chime rang in his mind.

[Target available for Corruption. Success Rate: 100%]

Bel blinked.

"...Corruption?" he whispered, reading the message again. "Success rate?"

He tilted his head, eyes narrowing. The term was familiar, one of the core concepts of his Authority.

He could corrupt any living being with his blood or his mark. That much he knew. But this?

Two steps?

He stood up, crossing his arms in thought. He looked at one of the unconscious healers sprawled nearby. No notification appeared above them.

Only Sienna.

"So why her?"

He replayed what the system had described back when he received the Authority of Destruction.

His dragon blood could alter living beings. But the effect wasn’t guaranteed. Some would adapt. Others... wouldn’t survive the change.

His gaze returned to Sienna.

But her success rate was 100%.

Why? What was different? Why could he see her success rate, but not on everyone else...

But just as he thought about it, his eyes widened. The condition to use the Mark of Destruction. Quickly, he opened his system interface, navigating to the Authority screen.

[Authority of Destruction]

[Demonic Essence: 0 / 2,000]

He froze.

"Zero..."

His mouth parted slightly. He turned, looking again at the healer.

No success rate. No corruption prompt, but on Sienna, all of them existed.

He closed his eyes.

"I see it now..."

He whispered to himself.

"The corruption is random. It can work and create a demon, or fail, and certainly kill the target. Unless... unless I use the Mark. And that cost me 2,000 demonic essence."

He glanced back at Sienna, her body calm beneath the dancing glow of the destruction sigil.

"That’s the answer," he murmured. "The Mark of Destruction doesn’t just make a creature with my authority. It prepares one to receive my blood."

He looked at his own hand, flexing it slowly. Light crackled faintly across his palm.

"By spending essence, I guaranteed her survival..."

He turned his eyes back toward the system screen.

[Success Rate: 100%]

His voice was low, almost amused.

"So that’s how it works."

But still... It was a problem.

2,000 demonic essence, just for one person.

He frowned. All his essence, just for one creature?

Plus there was the whole point of this process, twenty-five soldiers, his army. That meant fifty thousand essence total, minimum.

And he hadn’t recovered even a single point yet.

"How long... would it take to gather enough for just one more?" he murmured. "And twenty-five?"

He turned his gaze back to Sienna, still kneeling quietly in the grass, her new mark pulsing gently.

The moment should have felt triumphant, he had saved her. At least, that’s what he’d told himself.

But the tension in his jaw didn’t fade.

The truth was something else.

He hadn’t used the Mark out of kindness. Not entirely. Yes, he wanted to help her. Yes, she was familiar, and maybe even a bit... likable, in her noisy, cheerful way.

But deep down, he had seen the perfect test case.

An excuse.

A beautiful one.

He crossed his arms, sighing.

"I thought turning her into a demon would be enough," he muttered. "That the curse would lift, and she’d go on living. Maybe changed, but still her."

But if the whole process was a two stage operation, and the first one was to prepare the target to receive dragon blood, then the result wasn’t just a demon.

She was going to become a dragon.

His first.

"...This wasn’t the plan," he admitted aloud, voice low.

He looked down at her again. The sigil burned quietly like a dying star.

The grass around her feet had started to shift, ever so subtly, was it also under the curse?

"Making her my soldier will change her forever," he said. "It’s more than turning someone into a demon. This is... deeper."

He clenched one hand, then slowly released it.

"A demon among humans would already be a risk," he continued. "But a draconified demon, carrying my mark, answering only to me..."

He hesitated.

She would be a target. She would never be the same.

But he also knew one other thing:

War was coming.

"I need an army," he said, quieter this time. "Not someday. Soon."

And while he had hoped to start with monsters, with beasts or nameless creatures born in the shadows of the wilds, fate had handed him a girl.

One he recognized, one who had followed him once.

"She wasn’t supposed to be my pawn... but maybe she needs to be," he said.

He opened the Authority menu again, checking the empty bar of demonic essence. Not a single drop had returned.

Which raised another question.

How did it refill?

His brow furrowed. Until now, everything had worked on effort. Kills. Dungeon clears. Core consumption.

The system adapted its rewards and trials based on his strength, reshaping its challenges to keep pace with him.

So what would it ask for next?

"Maybe it needs something from me. Or maybe the next trial... will demand a subordinate."

He stared down at Sienna once more.

She looked so calm and wasn’t aware of any of it.

Bel sighed deeply, his steps heavy as he approached Sienna.

Along his path, he passed by Arkel, Logan, and behind them, the prince, each bearing the weight of their lives, their duties, their destinations.

They had witnessed the nightmare of the previous night, survived its horrors, yet now they faced a fate far worse: eternal imprisonment in a timeless void.

Bel knew little about the normal success rates of dragon blood transformations, but he was aware of the severe risks.

Using his blood without careful control was reckless and could lead to their death. Plus, he could not simply use his blood as a desperate means of salvation; they needed to become his soldiers, the elite vanguard of his army of Destruction.

He stopped before Sienna, observing her tranquil, still face. Freed from the Curse of Permanence, she was now ensnared by a new curse, one demanding a dangerous, potent remedy.

Bel raised his hand slowly above her head.

In silent stillness, he pressed the sharp nail of his thumb into his own index finger, slicing gently.

Thick, viscous purple blood seeped forth, glittering ominously in the dim light. It slithered down his hand, deliberate and serpentine.

His regeneration held back, obeying his silent command, allowing the demonic blood to flow unimpeded.

Droplets fell upon the Mark of Destruction etched onto Sienna’s forehead, immediately reacting, spreading softly. The injury on Bel’s finger closed swiftly, the blood continuing its sinister task independently.

As the blood mingled with the mark, it shimmered, sparking bolts of violet lightning. Like a sentient creature, the blood writhed and twisted, snaking beneath Sienna’s skin.

A brilliant flash erupted, and her body began trembling, first gently, then violently. Her veins swelled grotesquely, glowing deep black and purple, spreading over her neck, face, arms, and legs.

Lightning crackled ferociously, marking the profound corruption coursing through her. Her skin tore as muscles bulged and stretched unnaturally beneath. Fingernails lengthened into claws, veins protruding visibly, pulsating with demonic energy. Her eyelids snapped open, revealing ghastly, pure-white eyes devoid of humanity.

A scream erupted from her lips, echoing through the air, a primal, roar of pure bestiality, as the requiem of a young girl and the birth of a monster.

[Corruption: Success]

[Draconification Initiated]

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