Dragon King: Throne of Demons and Gods
Chapter 132: Blessed Are the Damned

Chapter 132: Blessed Are the Damned

Bel stood at the edge of the village, eyes scanning the ruins cautiously.

His steps were slow, almost silent as he moved forward. The scent in the air was unmistakable: blood, heavy and fresh enough to indicate recent violence.

He narrowed his violet eyes, the slit pupils sharpening as he focused on the lingering energy around them.

"Do you sense it?" Midas asked casually, walking a few paces ahead. "The lingering tragedy. Humans are fascinating, aren’t they? So fragile, yet capable of so much destruction."

Bel didn’t respond immediately, his attention caught by a broken wall covered in scorch marks. He touched it gently, feeling residual heat and the bitter sting of a recent fire.

Midas chuckled softly, turning to Bel with an amused look.

"It’s ironic, really. Demons are called evil, but are we truly? We merely follow our instincts, our nature. You, Lord Ravager, are compelled by your essence to destroy. The Devourer’s children, driven endlessly by hunger, and the Slumbering tirelessly fighting to never stop moving."

He paced slowly, voice carrying softly through the ruined street.

"We don’t choose this. Our existence is defined by what we are, yet humans label it as evil. And why? Because our nature inconveniences them."

Bel straightened, watching Midas quietly. His face revealed no judgment or agreement, just calm observation.

"This blood in our veins is both our strength and our curse," Midas continued, eyes glinting thoughtfully. "But what if there was another path? Another choice? And we still chose our sin?"

Bel’s attention sharpened, curiosity piqued.

"A choice?"

Midas smiled faintly, reaching into his pocket and retrieving a single gold coin gleaming softly in the dim, corrupted air.

"Indeed. A choice," he repeated gently. "Come, let me show you something...a memory."

Bel tilted his head slightly, cautious yet intrigued.

"A memory?"

Midas exhaled, visibly relieved to finally have Bel’s undivided attention. He flipped the coin skillfully between his fingers.

"You see, my power is unique among us," he explained carefully. "I hold the authority of avarice. I can place a value on anything, and once I purchase it, it becomes entirely mine to control. Even intangible things... Like memories."

He offered the coin to Bel, his eyes locked on him meaningfully.

"Allow me to take you into a past humanity has tried desperately to forget. A past that reveals their true nature, and perhaps offers clarity on your actions."

Bel stared at the coin silently for a long moment, weighing his options. Finally, with a calm nod, he reached forward.

"Show me."

The world around them shifted softly, like colors fading until something entirely new was painted over the ruins.

Suddenly, the village was whole again, vibrant and alive. Houses stood strong, their walls and roofs intact, and windows clear.

Bel slowly turned his head, taking in the details meticulously.

He watched quietly as villagers moved through their day.

Voices carried from the distance, merchants hawking their wares, children laughing, and adults chattering about mundane chores.

Life flowed, simple like any other day.

His attention was abruptly caught by a group of children racing toward him.

Bel stood motionless, observing calmly as they approached. Yet, Bel didn’t move, and there was no need.

The children dashed through him effortlessly, as if he were no more substantial than the air.

"Fascinating," Midas mused. "You truly were going to stand there and let children crash into your immovable body."

Bel gave a slight nod.

"These aren’t alive. There’s no life within them. I guess they are memories?"

Midas chuckled softly, nodding in approval.

"Very perceptive. Indeed, this is a memory, a purchased fragment of someone’s daily life."

Bel turned, his violet eyes narrowing slightly.

"Someone? So you buy memories and other concepts from people?"

Midas smiled mysteriously.

"My secrets are mine, Lord Ravager, I told you enough already, and I have no intention to trade more of them after you rejected my offer. Today, I offer something else."

He gestured gently to the scene before them. The village was modest, filled with the grit and toil of people battling daily to survive.

Life here was undeniably harsh; fields yielded scarce harvests, water was a precious resource, and every sunrise began another struggle against poverty and despair.

Bel quietly watched each face, feeling their silent strength and weary resilience.

In one small hut, an old woman stirred a nearly empty pot, whispering prayers for sustenance.

Nearby, a young man swung an axe, chopping tirelessly despite exhaustion marking his face.

Another woman tended to threadbare clothes, trying to mend fabric long past its best days.

Bel absorbed each life, sensing the quiet desperation underlying their everyday efforts.

But then, something shifted.

Bel’s eyes moved to Midas, noticing the subtle change in his posture. Following the Demon Lord’s gaze, his attention settled on a newcomer, a two figures making their way through the village square.

Midas’s voice softly filled the air.

"And this is where our story truly begins."

The villagers stopped what they were doing, curious and troubled as the priest approached, gently guiding the small girl by the hand.

She stood quietly, her clothes old and worn, her hair messy, and her eyes unfocused, clearly blind.

But what caught everyone’s attention most were her small horns, marking her unmistakably as a demon.

The priest smiled warmly at the villagers and raised a hand in greeting.

"Good people, I come to you in peace and faith. My name is Father Edrick. I’d like a moment of your time to speak of a great blessing that has been given to us."

The villagers hesitated, some exchanging wary glances. Others openly scowled, stepping back and shaking their heads.

"What blessing can a demon bring?" one man called out roughly. "You bring evil to our doorstep!"

Murmurs of agreement spread quickly. Another woman, clutching her child, shouted anxiously.

"We don’t want trouble here! Take that creature away!"

Father Edrick lifted his hand again, his expression gentle and patient.

"I understand your fears," he said calmly, his voice soft yet clear enough to reach everyone. "This child may appear frightening, I know. But she has been sent to us by heaven itself, despite her form. She holds incredible power, a power to grant your deepest wishes, to bring prosperity and lasting wealth to your village."

The villagers quieted somewhat but continued to eye the priest and the demon child warily. Doubt lingered heavily in the air.

"Why would heaven send us a demon?" a skeptical man demanded. "This is madness."

Father Edrick nodded.

"I asked the same question at first, friends. But sometimes, true blessings come hidden in darkness. Consider your lives, how you struggle day after day, barely surviving. What if, just this once, you trusted something unusual to change your fate?"

His words sank slowly into the villagers’ hearts. They exchanged uncertain looks, their fears battling against the temptation of escaping their hardships.

"What do you want from us?" another villager asked cautiously, stepping forward.

Father Edrick smiled reassuringly.

"Only a small act of faith. You must perform a sacred ritual: sacrifice one sheep each day for seven days. On the eighth day, the girl herself must be sacrificed. If you follow these conditions, your village will be blessed forever."

Shock spread through the villagers. Sacrifice? The idea was horrifying.

The debate grew louder, arguments and shouts filling the air.

Yet, as the conversation continued through the day, desperation slowly crept into their voices.

The possibility of escaping poverty weighed heavily against their fears.

Hours passed in heated discussions and debates, arguments flaring and calming, until finally, exhaustion and hope won out.

One man stepped forward cautiously, his voice shaking.

"Will this truly bring us prosperity?"

"Yes," Father Edrick replied calmly and with deep certainty. "Forever."

A tense silence fell. The villagers exchanged last hesitant glances. Then, slowly, reluctantly, they nodded and murmured their consent.

Bel watched quietly, puzzled and slightly disturbed by the villagers’ eventual decision. It seemed strange to him.

That night, under the pale moonlight, the villagers gathered around a stone altar. They took a sheep and sacrificed it, spreading its blood carefully over the altar and onto the small girl.

They began praying fervently, their voices shaky and emotional.

Bel narrowed his eyes, uneasy.

"To which god are they praying? This is a demon they’re making offerings to," he asked quietly.

Midas smiled.

"Humans pray out of reflex, especially when their emotions are strong, whether in fear or in hope."

"Is this what you wanted me to see?" Bel asked.

"Not quite," Midas replied. "There’s something else."

The next morning, Bel followed Midas as they watched the villagers awake to a miracle.

Their fields, which were bare the day before, now overflowed with fresh vegetables. The nearby forest teemed with animals, and the river swarmed with fish.

The villagers cheered and cried tears of joy, believing they were finally saved.

Bel observed silently. Everything looked perfect now, but he knew this village eventually fell into ruin. Something was wrong.

"Come, Bel," Midas invited. "There’s another part of this story you might enjoy."

Midas led Bel to a beautifully decorated room, richly furnished like for royalty. Inside, the small demon girl sat comfortably, a woman gently brushing her hair.

"Your arrival has given everyone hope," the woman said softly. "I’m sorry they have to sacrifice you when you’re still so young."

The girl smiled sweetly.

"It’s alright," she whispered softly. "I’m not angry with them. They’re just trying to find hope in their own way. It’s normal to have hope. Even I... I can’t see with my eyes, but I have hope. When he will comes for me, I will also be saved. And he’ll come soon, I believe it."

The woman smiled gently, her curiosity piqued.

"Who will come for you, dear?"

The girl turned her blind eyes toward the ceiling, her face lighting up with innocent joy.

"Lord Ravager."