The Damned Demon

Chapter 790 No Longer A King

790  No Longer A King

The air was still thick with the scent of blood, smoke, and decay as an injured and recovering Drakar stood in the heart of the ruined Bloodburn Kingdom with bandages wrapped around his fractured limbs. He refused to lose more face by resting on a bed and wanted to stand strong to show everyone who conquered everything here.

What was once a proud and thriving kingdom now lay in ruin, its grandeur reduced to rubble under his ruthless rule.

The once majestic Demonstone Castle, the symbol of Bloodburn's might, had been defiled and burned, its towering spires shattered, its blood-stained banners now trampled beneath the feet of his soldiers.

All around him, his men plundered mercilessly, tearing through the remains of noble estates, dragging away anything of value, and claiming the last of the surviving maids and servants for their own pleasures.

The defeated people of the Bloodburn Kingdom were either dead, enslaved, or scattered, their former glory now nothing more than a fading ember.

And yet, despite the victory, Drakar's blood boiled with seething rage.

His hands clenched into tight fists, his sharp nails digging into his palms, drawing blood as his mind replayed the humiliation he suffered.

The damn Moon Guardian had stolen the key right from under his nose, and that bitch, Red Witch, betrayed and fooled him.

And worse yet, that old wolf's granddaughter, whom he didn't even know about her existence, had dared to humiliate him in front of his men.

Drakar's teeth gnashed at the memory of that feral bitch forcing him to sign a blood contract, shackling his ambitions. The thought of being forced to retreat, to halt his conquest of Rowena and her people, made his veins burn with fury.

His lips curled in a sneer as he muttered under his breath, his deep voice laced with venom, "She thinks she won? She only delayed the inevitable. You and your wretched kin will learn what happens when you stand in my way…"

Yes, he had won this war, but at what cost?

He had gained these lands, but the key—the one thing he truly desired—was ripped from his grasp.

But at least, these lands would now serve him. It would feed his war machine, allowing him to expand his forces, rebuild his army, and take back what was stolen. He would not sit still. The Moon Guardian and his kin would pay.

But just as his mind was formulating his next move, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps.

Commander Zulgi strode towards him, his posture straight, disciplined, his dark armor stained with the blood of those who opposed them. He lowered his head in respect, his voice stoic and controlled as he spoke,

"Your Majesty, I just received some information regarding Prince Rhygar and the two Dragonblood Knights you sent with him."

Drakar's brow twitched, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he turned his sharp gaze toward Zulgi.

"It better be good news. Did he finally hunt down that slut?" Drakar's voice was like a blade against flesh—sharp, cold, and unforgiving.

His patience was razor-thin. He had even spared two of his finest knights to ensure Rhygar would not fail. That ungrateful bastard better have something to show for it.

But Zulgi's expression stiffened, and for a moment, he hesitated.

Drakar's eyes darkened.

"Spit it out." His voice was low, warning.

Zulgi exhaled, lowering his head further, as if bracing himself for a storm, "Your Majesty... we are unable to reach them. The last thing we heard was that they had located Lysandra. But after that... nothing. It's been hours, and we can't track their location. It's as if they vanished into thin air. I fear... they may not return."

The words struck like a thunderclap, making Drakar's veins bulge with suppressed fury.

"NO." His voice boomed, his hand clenching into a fist so tightly that the bones cracked.

He refused to believe that Lysandra, that traitorous whore, could have overpowered three of his warriors in her weakened state.

That meant someone else intervened.

And Drakar knew exactly who.

"It was him..." Drakar growled, his breath ragged with fury. Zulgi gave a solemn nod, "It must have been the Bloodburn King, Your Majesty. No one else would have the strength to take down two Dragonblood Knights and Prince Rhygar."

The mere mention of that bastard's name made Drakar's rage explode.

Without warning, he swung his fist forward, slamming it into Zulgi's gut.

"Urghk!"

The Commander let out a heavy grunt, blood spitting from his mouth as he collapsed to his knees, the sheer force of the impact shaking his insides.

Drakar loomed over him, his eyes burning with malice, his dark, fiery red aura crackling around him.

"You DARE call him a king in my presence?!" Drakar snarled, his voice dripping with hatred, "He is NO longer a king. His kingdom is DEAD. He is nothing but a filthy alien RAT who doesn't belong ANYWHERE!"

Zulgi, despite the pain wrecking his insides, lowered his head further in submission, his voice hoarse but unwavering, "F-Forgive me…Your Majesty. I did not mean to offend."

Drakar let out a harsh breath, his fists still trembling with pent-up rage, and the thought of Lysandra and Asher being together once again only riled him up even more.

"You couldn't even hunt down that slut, and now I lost two of my Dragonblood Knights! You very well know how much this war already cost me while I gained almost nothing! You should be grateful I'm not feeding you to the beasts for your failure." He spat, before straightening himself. His mind was racing.

He had lost one useless son and two powerful knights, but there was no time to chase after that slut anymore.

The key was his true prize, and now it was in the hands of those cursed werewolves.

He needed to move forward.

Taking a slow, deep breath, he forced himself to regain control of his boiling rage.

He needed to rebuild, to recover. And then, he would crush them all.

Turning his dark red eyes to Zulgi, he commanded, "Forget about that bitch for now. We don't have time to waste. Our priority now is taking back the key."

Zulgi wiped the blood from his lips, nodding in obedience, "What are your orders, Your Majesty?"

11:43

Drakar's lips twisted into a wicked grin, his eyes gleaming with bloodlust.

"Use every resource we plundered. Rebuild our forces. Double the supply chains. Triple the recruits. Force them if you have to. We will strengthen our army faster than ever before. And then..." His voice was filled with cold certainty, "We will destroy those dogs while they're too busy trying to use the key."

His gaze drifted toward the ashen horizon, toward the continent where the werewolves were,

"Enjoy your short-lived victory, old mutt," he muttered, his voice dripping with venom, "Because soon, I will take back what is mine."

And this time, he would burn everything in his path.

—

Couple hours ago,

The crimson sky stretched endlessly, a vast expanse of smoke and dying embers, as Asher stood still, staring at the fading silhouette of Lysandra. His dark yellow eyes followed her flight until she became nothing more than a mere speck against the horizon, then vanished completely.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips, though his expression remained indifferent, empty—as if he had buried something deep within himself once more.

Then, without looking, he said in a bored, lazy voice, "How long do you plan to stalk me?"

From the far edge of the cliff, behind a jagged rock formation, a figure stepped out from the shadows. Her presence was elegant yet menacing, cold yet piercing, like a blade hidden beneath silk.

Dressed in a sleeveless, black gown that accentuated her form, her long dark hair swayed with the wind, though the sheen of sweat upon her pale skin betrayed her exhaustion.

Rebecca.

She had been following him ever since he parted with Eradicator. She was angry, trying to find him, but she had no idea he was trapped somewhere.

That made some of her anger melt away since he didn't really abandon their kingdom, though deep down, she knew he must have had a reason for not returning.

Yet that made her burn with curiosity and a hundred questions, including why he even left in the first place.

But after seeing everything that happened between him and Lysandra just now, she stood there with a disgruntled look, arms crossed. She forgot whatever she was curious about earlier.

And suddenly, she dashed forward, her movements sharp and precise, as if she had something urgent to say.

"Hmph," she scoffed, eyes narrowing as she came to a halt just a few feet away from him. "If you knew I was following you, then you must also know I saw and heard you whispering those pathetic words of love and forgiveness to that draconian bitch."

Her voice dripped with contempt, but there was something more—something brittle beneath the anger. A sting of jealousy, a resentment she couldn't fully understand.

"I can't believe you'd make yourself look so weak before someone like her, just because you killed her son during a quest. It's not like she can't make another one easily. They breed like animals, unlike us," Rebecca continued, her eyes flashing with undisguised bitterness.

Asher's gaze remained calm, unaffected, as he turned to face her. His voice was low and cold when he said, "She's my woman. So you better not call her a bitch again, or I won't be nice to you, even if you are my slave. And you of all people should understand what's she going through better."

Rebecca flinched, her fingers curling into tight fists. Her nails dug so deeply into her skin that she almost drew blood.

"Y-You!" Her teeth clenched, her heart pounding in frustration.

It wasn't just his warning that infuriated her.

It was the way he said it—so casually, so possessively, as if Lysandra was worthy of his love, his protection. As if she mattered more than anything else. How could he even compared her to that draconian?

And yet she, Rebecca Drake, the one who had been bound to him, who had served him while risking her life dozens of times and suffered at his hands, received nothing but this?

Why?

Her rage cracked, turning into something bitter, something aching.

She took a sharp breath before glaring at him, her voice trembling with suppressed fury.

"I can't believe you still have the audacity to threaten me after fooling and tricking me! You took advantage of my poor Oberon, manipulating him to get information on Kira. You promised me, and yet you broke your word while I trusted you like a fool!"

There it was. The pain, the betrayal, the resentment festering deep in her chest.

Asher let out a tired sigh, shaking his head, unfazed.

"Broke my word?" he echoed, his tone laced with disdain, "Did Oberon tell you that I forced him? No. He chose to be useful. Why would I refuse if he was willing? Don't forget, he doesn't deserve any leniency or mercy from me. And yet, I spared his pitiful life—because of you."

Asher then casually gestured toward the mutilated corpse of Rhygar, the bloodied remains steaming in the heat of the volcanic air.

"If not for you," he said, his eyes dark and cruel, "he would have ended up like him long ago."

Rebecca's breath hitched as her gaze flickered to Rhygar's ruined corpse. She swallowed hard, realizing that Asher was right.

If he had truly wanted Oberon to suffer, he would have done much worse.

And yet, the storm inside her refused to settle.

"I am done wasting time here. You better come with me now. I have got orders for you," Asher said as he walked past her.

"No!" she said sharply, her voice echoing across the cliffs.

Asher halted, his gaze narrowing. Slowly, he turned his head back toward her.

"What did you just say?"

Rebecca met his gaze, her breathing ragged, her eyes filled with defiance and something else—something deeper.

She clenched her fists tighter and took a deep breath before finally speaking, "I am done being your slave. I can't… do this anymore!"

Asher's expression darkened, his voice as cold as ice.

"You think you have a choice?"

Rebecca swallowed, then lifted her chin defiantly, a dark, knowing smile curving her lips.

"You have to give me one," she said, her voice laced with something dangerous, "because I can give you something in return… something you might be desperate to know."

Asher's eyes narrowed. "And what would that be?"

Rebecca took a slow step forward, her gaze sharp, unwavering.

"I might know who the Red Witch is."

Asher's brows raised, and Rebecca knew she finally had his attention.

Oh boy...

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