Page 47

A piercing cold wind blew through the entrance of Stone Fortress, and a blast of icy air escaping through the cracks made the goblin guard sneeze.

“Damn, it’s cold...”

“Yeah,” the goblin beside him agreed, rubbing his reddened nose, only to accidentally scratch a long mark across his face with his claw.

“Ouch!”

The goblin let out a yelp.

A bead of blood appeared but quickly froze solid.

Over the past few months, many of Embers Nest’s followers had begun displaying “dragon-like” traits. Although these changes weren’t as intense as those in their leaders, some red dragon-specific characteristics were emerging.

This included the occasional appearance of sparse scales, sharper claws and teeth, folds on the ears, and a preference for warmth and even hot climates...

The red dragon, slumbering deep within the cave, was like a massive source of radiation, using the gift of his bloodline to influence and transform all of Embers Nest’s followers.

Cassius lay sprawled in the cave, his massive body rising and falling gently.

With the weather growing colder, the heat-loving red dragon loathed going outside, preferring instead to remain in the cave, living a life of eating and sleeping, like any native red dragon in Erezaghe.

Lazily stretching, Cassius slowly opened his eyes. “But there are still some matters that need tending.”

In Draconic, he softly called out,

“Chimera—”

The three-headed creature immediately emerged from a cave in the rock wall, obediently lying down in front of Cassius like a loyal hound, awaiting its master’s command.

Ever since receiving the “bloodline gift,” this once defiant beast had become remarkably docile, a change that even Cassius found slightly disconcerting.

Continuing in Draconic, Cassius said, “Take me to find those tieflings.”

“What?”

He saw all three of Chimera’s heads tilt in confusion.

Exasperated, the red dragon picked up an old, horned skull from a corner of the cave and tossed it in front of Chimera.

“Lead me to these people.”

Chimera’s lion head leaned in, sniffing the skull carefully, then clumsily replied in Draconic,

“Horned. Human. Not tasty.”

Cassius, growing impatient, said, “Yes, them. Take me there.”

Chimera obediently lowered itself, indicating it would comply.

“Yes, Master.”

With a low growl, it spread its wings and took off.

Chimera flew out of the warm cave, leaving the broad Giant’s Valley to soar through the snowy, stormy skies.

Cassius followed close behind, gliding through the wind and snow.

In a secluded clearing shielded by layers of mountains, a group of crude tents was pitched in the snow. Nearby, a spacious cave was brightly lit, surrounded by roughly piled stone walls. This was the tieflings’ refuge, a place they called the “Shattered Home.”

The tieflings, with their horns and scarlet skin, lived here.

The mountains shielded them from discovery by pursuers, but they offered no protection from the biting cold and snow.

Despite the harsh cold, the tieflings wore tattered clothes. The men braved the snow to chop wood in the forest, the women lit campfires outside their tents to cook game, and the children gathered dry wood and dead grass nearby, adding fuel to the fire, doing whatever tasks they could.

Meanwhile, a few injured tieflings lay in the slightly warmer cave, wrapped in layers of animal skins and grass fluff, but even these measures could not prevent their breathing from weakening, their eyelids trembling as they began to close.

“Medrolash, we won’t survive the winter like this.”

“The injured won’t last. We need to head to the nearby town.”

A hoarse female voice, trembling from the cold, spoke.

The tiefling referred to as “Medrolash” turned his head.

His rugged face bore burn scars, his tall frame clad in bloodstained armor, which was also dented in many places from blows.

He spoke heavily, “Lerisha, you still hold hope for these humans?”

The female tiefling shook her head, defending herself:

“No, I don’t…”

Medrolash cut her off abruptly, his tone growing intense:

“The pitchforks, the pyres, the burning houses, the naked bodies hanging at the city gates, the cheers and curses of the townsfolk—haven’t they revealed their true nature to you yet?”

“This is humanity, Lerisha.”

“If we go to any town now, we won’t be welcomed with wine; we’ll be met with ruthless eviction—and the enforcers of that old vampire’s family.”

Lerisha’s voice trembled, her tone near tears, “They just don’t know the truth. Maybe, maybe we could clear up this misunderstanding, explain it to them…”

“By now, you should understand how humans see us, child of devils.”

His cold, dark eyes seemed to pierce her soul, and the sudden gravity in his voice silenced her.

Medrolash continued:

“One person’s curiosity becomes a conspiracy when it involves two.”

He paused.

“Three people…are a curse.”

“When they’re all stirred to raise their blades against us, there’s no misunderstanding left.”

Having said this, Medrolash ignored Lerisha, who was silently sobbing, and silently polished his blood-stained silver sword.

In the gleam of the polished blade, his weathered face was reflected.

Ram-like horns curled from his head, his black eyes devoid of irises, sharp canines, and crimson skin—all clear marks of his devilish heritage, despite his otherwise human-like appearance.

“Naive fool.”

Medrolash couldn’t help recalling his past, the painful and tormenting memories.

Back at Northwind Fortress, as a child, he had constantly been stared at and whispered about because of his “devil-born” lineage, enduring violence and abuse on the streets and seeing mistrust and fear in others’ eyes.

Yet he’d been lucky enough to have human friends he could trust.

This was both a blessing and a harsh fate.

The genuine concern from his friends once allowed Medrolash to harbor kindness and trust.

He joined the city guard, becoming a paladin at a young age, swearing the Oath of Redemption—

Paladins who swore the Oath of Redemption confronted evil with the hope of turning enemies to the light, using violence only as a last resort.

They would only kill if it clearly saved other lives, otherwise refraining from taking life.

The young tiefling believed anyone could be redeemed, that all could walk a path of kindness and justice.

Medrolash believed he could dispel society’s prejudice against his devil’s bloodline through acts of goodwill, and he seemed to be progressing toward this goal.