The Damned Demon-Chapter 840: The World Belongs To The Strong

Drakar stood atop the broken spire of what had once been the grandest castle in the Bloodburn Kingdom, the ruins beneath him now crawling with life once more—not the lives of those who had built and cherished it, but the merciless troops of his mighty army.

His broad, jet-black wings stretched out restlessly, the leathery membranes twitching periodically in a silent rhythm of impatience and controlled anger.

The cold wind whipped at his black hair, but he paid it no mind. His fiery dark red eyes surveyed the encampment that sprawled out in every direction, a harsh contrast to the once-proud kingdom now reduced to broken stone, smoldering embers, and crude military tents.

Each tent, each training ground, each structure below had been rebuilt from the ashes of Bloodburn—transformed into a dark reflection of his power and dominance.

This was no longer a thriving kingdom of hope. It was a forge, a brutal crucible meant only to sharpen and refine the steel of his soldiers into weapons of destruction.

The air was filled with the clangor of steel against steel, the cries of men sparring fiercely, and occasionally, the screams of slaves—the former citizens of Bloodburn—forced into submission, providing his men the pleasures and diversions they needed after long hours of relentless training.

A cold satisfaction flickered briefly across Drakar's face, only to quickly fade into simmering anger.

Despite the immense army beneath him, his ambitions had not yet been fully realized. His main goal and loose ends still burned in his mind like embers refusing to die.

His thoughts were interrupted as the steady footsteps of Commander Zulgi echoed up the ruined staircase behind him.

Zulgi emerged quietly onto the broken platform, bowing respectfully before speaking, his stoic face betraying no emotion.

"Your Majesty," Zulgi began, voice deep and steady. "All preparations have gone as you ordered. The men have recovered fully from the previous battle. Our losses have been replaced fivefold after plundering every resource we could get our hands on. New recruits are eager to spill blood in your name. At your command, we will march upon the werewolves' territory and reclaim the 'Key' from the Moon Guardian."

Drakar slowly turned to face him, his eyes cold and calculating, his voice a low growl, echoing with impatience. "Good. It's about time. Make sure they understand: failure will mean death. I will not tolerate incompetence. The 'Key' belongs in my hands alone."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Zulgi nodded obediently, his expression unwavering, eyes filled only with ruthless devotion.

But Drakar wasn't done. He turned back to the encampment below, eyes narrowing as his anger sharpened once more. "And what of the Nightshade Kingdom? I trust you've implemented the measures I commanded. Are they beginning to starve?"

Zulgi stepped closer, glancing briefly at the sprawling camps below, before responding with confidence, "Yes, my king. Our men have bribed, threatened, and coerced every neighboring tribe, merchant, and caravan. No one dares trade or deliver any supplies to Nightshade Kingdom. Their resources grow thin daily. Within weeks, they'll have no choice but to crawl out of their kingdom and attack us directly."

Drakar's lips curled slowly into a wicked smile, eyes glittering with dark amusement. "Perfect. The Blood Contract I was deviously forced into by that old monster's granddaughter prevents me from pursuing those pathetic survivors, but once they attack first, I will finally have my opportunity to slaughter every last Bloodburn survivor and their pitiful allies. Rowena, and his wives—soon, they'll beg for a mercy I'll never grant them hahahaha."

Zulgi nodded slowly, respectful silence lingering for a moment before he spoke again, his tone briefly hesitant. "Your Majesty, there's still no trace of Lysandra. We've combed every possible location, and yet her whereabouts remain unknown. I apologize for my failure."

Drakar scoffed coldly, eyes narrowing into slits of dangerous red fire. "Lysandra cannot hide forever. Eventually, she will slip up—and when she does, she will pay dearly for daring to defy me. For now, keep eyes and ears open; sooner or later, that troublesome slut will surface."

Zulgi inclined his head again, "Yes, my king."

Drakar turned his attention back toward the sprawling armies below, his thoughts brooding over each unresolved grievance. The cold wind whipped violently around him as his wings flexed restlessly, agitated by his unfinished business.

But then another thought crossed his mind—a cold, venomous thought that twisted his lips into a dark smile.

"And what of that last Caleumbra witch?" Drakar asked suddenly, his voice low, dangerously calm. "Kira."

Zulgi paused briefly, caution flickering subtly in his usually stoic eyes.

"The woman vanished shortly after achieving her plans, my king. She is as elusive as ever. But we have begun tracking her movements through our scouts."

Drakar's smile widened cruelly, the rage and humiliation he'd felt at Kira's betrayal still vivid in his memories. She had mocked him, manipulated him, used him like a pawn in her twisted schemes—something he would never forgive or forget.

"She dared to humiliate me," Drakar hissed, a spark of dark fury flaring in his eyes. "That arrogant witch believes she's untouchable. Once I am finished with the werewolves and the Bloodburn remnants, we will hunt her down. I'll show her the price of making me her puppet. She would also be worthy of becoming my slave beside Rowena."

Zulgi bowed again, his voice firm and unwavering. "Preparations have already been made since I found out about your intentions to capture her. We have tracked down her general location, but she manages to elude us by using some special ways to hide herself. But soon, she won't escape again."

"See to it," Drakar growled softly, fists tightening as he stared into the distance, mind spinning with dark, vengeful plans.

Zulgi quietly stepped back, sensing the conclusion of their meeting. "By your command, my king."

The commander's footsteps faded away, leaving Drakar alone atop the ruined castle tower once more. He surveyed the scene below—the vast sea of soldiers tirelessly training, slaves weeping in pain and despair, blacksmiths tirelessly forging weapons—all in preparation for his final conquest.

His wings stretched wide once more, the leathery membranes crackling faintly as he inhaled deeply, savoring the bitter scent of iron, fire, and fear lingering in the air.

In this ruined kingdom he had built an army unlike any seen before. He had turned Bloodburn into the blade of his vengeance—a blade sharpened by hatred, tempered by suffering, and soon to be soaked in the blood of his enemies.

"Wait just a little longer," he whispered cruelly, speaking as though the wind itself would carry his threat to the ears of his foes. "You will all soon realize the futility of resisting me. This world belongs to those strong enough to claim it."

And as the wind howled around him, Drakar smiled darkly—his cold satisfaction only deepening beneath the burning fury in his heart. The coming war would see his final victory, and the ruin of all who had ever dared defy him, especially that alien rat whose days are numbered no matter where he was hiding.

—

Far far away,

Kira stood gracefully atop the quiet hilltop, her silhouette bathed gently in the soft glow of twilight.

The flowing silk gown she wore shimmered gently beneath the dim, bloody moonlight, accentuating every elegant curve and making her appear as though she were sculpted by a divine hand. Her long, golden hair cascaded gently over her smooth shoulders, fluttering softly with the breeze.

Beneath her, nestled within the hidden valley, her people moved joyfully among humble adobes, their laughter and quiet murmurs carrying to her ears like music.

She watched them silently, her emerald eyes glowing faintly in the evening gloom, their captivating depth flickering with emotion and reflection.

At her side stood Father Zu, the elderly vulpin whose presence brought her comfort.

His silvery-white hair and beard glistened faintly beneath the moonlight, his wise eyes filled with a mixture of warmth and deep contemplation.

Leaning on his gnarled walking stick, he glanced at Kira gently, his voice carrying concern.

"Is your heart finally at peace, child?" Father Zu asked softly, his eyes tender but watchful as he carefully studied her expression.

Kira exhaled slowly, her lips forming a gentle, relieved smile. Her emerald eyes glistened with satisfaction as she spoke, her voice soft yet firm. "For the first time in a very long time, Father Zu, yes. My heart finally feels some measure of peace. Knowing that the vile Bloodburn Kingdom is now nothing but ruins—that my parents, our ancestors, and our people can finally rest in peace—is a comfort I've longed for."

Zu nodded slowly, though his gentle eyes darkened slightly, worry and guilt clouding his usually calm expression. He hesitated briefly, then sighed deeply, speaking carefully. "And yet, child, I worry deeply about the thousands of innocent souls who perished alongside the Bloodburn Kingdom. They bore no responsibility for what was done to us. Their curses from the Seven Hells might yet follow after us."

The peaceful smile faded slowly from Kira's face, replaced by a subtle shadow. Her eyes briefly grew heavy, tinged by melancholy and weariness. She clenched her delicate fists and turned slightly, facing Zu with a gaze hardened by resolve.

"Father Zu," she said quietly, her voice firm yet tinged with sorrow, "why do you still burden your heart with guilt for them? I've explained before—the sins of a kingdom inevitably become the burden of its citizens. It wasn't possible to tear down the Bloodburn Kingdom without its people perishing as well. It was merely their misfortune to be born within such evil walls. But you must stop mourning for them. They did not mourn for us or show us mercy when our kingdom fell."

She gently reached out, placing her graceful hand upon Zu's shoulder, looking deeply into his eyes. "So, please, let us now focus on rebuilding our kingdom—on creating a future for our people brighter than anything that was stolen from us. We can do that, can't we, Father Zu?"

Zu's strained smile slowly appeared, his eyes softening gently despite lingering doubts. Before he could answer, hurried footsteps broke the quiet serenity of the moment.

An armored vulpin rushed breathlessly toward them, his face pale and frantic. Zu turned toward him sharply, worry etching his features deeply. "Calm yourself and breathe, child. What's wrong?"

The vulpin gasped, breathing heavily as he spoke urgently, "Draconians… We spotted Draconian guards sniffing around our borders—as if they're trying to discover our hiding place!"

Zu's face instantly became solemn, worry deepening the lines of his features as he turned to Kira, eyes heavy with foreboding. "Just as we feared. It seems Drakar still hasn't abandoned his petty grudge against you."

Kira's gentle expression twisted into cold anger, her emerald eyes narrowing sharply as she spat bitterly, "That bastard Drakar. I was expecting this. Not to worry, we've placed safeguards around our sanctuary so powerful, they'd never find us—even if they came within mere inches."

She turned sharply toward the guard, her voice steady and commanding, yet still edged with caution, "Nevertheless, gather our people quietly and prepare them for the worst. Let vigilance be our greatest ally."

"Yes, my lady," the vulpin guard responded immediately, bowing deeply before turning and sprinting back down the hillside.

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Zu's shoulders slumped slightly, his aged face filled with quiet dread. He gazed down at the thriving village below, murmuring worriedly, "Kira, if Drakar does manage to discover us, we won't survive his wrath a second time. His queen had managed to discover us. There is no telling if he can't do the same as well."

Kira shook her head confidently, gently placing a reassuring hand on the elder's arm. Her voice softened, filled with unwavering resolve and confidence. "Please don't worry yourself, Father Zu. Lysandra is no longer his queen and is hiding from Drakar. I've taken every measure necessary to shield our home from his prying eyes. He won't find us. Even if the worst happens, the Tomb of the Old City isn't too far from this place."

Zu sighed with a look of worry though he didn't refute her since he knew what she would say.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, emerald depths burning fiercely as determination sharpened her voice, "And when we've had enough time to rebuild our strength over the coming centuries, it will be us who strike back. Then, once and for all, we'll put an end to him—and all who follow him."