Dragon King: Throne of Demons and Gods
Chapter 140: Veneration

Chapter 140: Veneration

The morning light filtered through the forest canopy as the group rode forward, following the path that Sylphera had marked on their maps.

Prince Edward led the way, his expression calm but serious.

Behind him were a dozen knights and adventurers, all riding slowly, eyes scanning the trees, hands never far from their weapons.

The forest was quiet, too quiet. Only the soft clopping of hooves and the distant rustle of leaves filled the air.

"What do you think we’ll find?" a young adventurer whispered to another.

"I heard it might be a dungeon break," another replied. "Maybe a boss escaped..."

That idea spread fast. Worried voices echoed among the group.

"If it’s really a boss, shouldn’t they have sent a Sacred Warrior?"

The tension grew until Edward spoke, his voice firm and clear.

"The capital is still recovering. Demons have already entered once. No one knows if they’ll come again. Sir Aurus and Lady Sylphera are too important to risk on the front lines. We were chosen to scout ahead."

He glanced back at them.

"If something dangerous is waiting, someone has to find it first. Even if it means we might not return."

The group fell silent.

An older adventurer at the back muttered.

"So if we die, that confirms it’s a real threat. We’re just test subjects."

No one replied.

Near the rear, Sienna rode quietly. Her thoughts were far away.

She remembered Dusteria, running off to find her father. She remembered Airi, burning with power in the heart of the city. And she remembered how powerless she had felt through it all.

Sienna tightened her grip on the reins.

This war didn’t feel like it was for people like her—people without fame, titles, or blessings. Still, she whispered under her breath.

"Bel... where are you?"

He hadn’t been there during the battle. Not when they needed him. Everyone else had fought or suffered in some way. But Bel, the one they believed in, had vanished.

As they rode deeper into the forest, the silence changed.

The horses began to shift. They snorted, shook their heads, and stomped their hooves.

One of them reared slightly, nervous. The group paused.

The forest was quiet.

The sound of horses shifting and snorting broke the silence, hooves tapping nervously on the dirt path.

Riders tried to calm their animals, but nothing worked. The horses were nervous, eyes wide, ears twitching.

"Why did we stop?" someone in the back asked, voice tight with worry.

No one answered.

Because all together, they saw her.

Up ahead, right in the middle of the forest trail, a girl was sitting on a fallen tree trunk.

She didn’t just appear, it felt like she had always been there. From the beginning.

She looked young. Maybe ten, maybe twelve. But something about her felt... ominous.

Her long white hair flowed down her back like snow or moonlight. Her skin was smooth, almost glowing, with not a single mark, a beautiful, perfect skin.

Her face was delicate and calm, the kind of beauty that feel too perfect to be human.

And she wore nothing.

She was naked, fully naked, but even though she was clearly bare, no one could really see her.

Every time their eyes drifted to her intimacy, something stopped them to see it. It was like the world itself hid her.

Even if someone stared, they wouldn’t remember what they saw. It was like her body wasn’t made to be looked at.

Not fully at least.

A soft wind wrapped around her, like a cloak. It moved gently, just enough to cover her, but not enough to be called clothing.

Even the light seemed to bend around her.

On her fingertip sat a single black butterfly. Its black wings moved slowly, like a heartbeat.

No one moved, nor spoke.

Everyone waited. As if they needed permission just to breathe.

Everyone stared at the girl, completely silent, as if the world itself had stopped just for her.

She kept her eyes on the little black butterfly, then she whispered, so softly it felt like a dream.

"His anger is still too strong... I can’t greet him properly yet. This isn’t the right time."

Her voice was the softest they had ever heard. It was calm and sweet, like a lullaby or gentle music, but also mature and full of meaning.

It didn’t echo, but it filled their hearts. It was the voice of a child and someone very old all at once.

She looked up, and everything changed.

Her face was perfect. Her eyes were a deep purple, with narrow pupils like a dragon’s, rather than the kind of lizard.

She was too perfect, too otherworldly, for any lesser creature to be her match.

Only a dragon, the king of all myths, could serve as a fitting comparison.

Her ears were long and pointed like an elf’s. There was something mysterious about her, something no one could understand.

No one could stop looking at her. Even when they looked away, they still saw her. When they turned around, she was still right in front of them.

But no one could look her in the eyes. Instead, they found themselves staring at her feet, but still imagining her face.

She spoke again, just as soft.

"Now is not the time to disturb him... let him be."

As soon as she said that, the horses started shaking. Their legs gave out one by one.

One by one, they collapsed onto the forest floor, the thuds of bodies and the dull thumps of saddles echoed eerily between the trees.

The riders slumped forward, slipping from their horses.

They looked at their mounts, confused and trembling.

"What’s happening?!"

Edward stepped forward, drawing his sword quickly.

"Everyone, get ready!" he shouted. "She’s an enemy!"

People froze.

An enemy? So A demon?

Sienna dropped to her knees.

"I... There... Is there really a demon here?"

No one moved. This girl didn’t feel like any demon they had faced. Her presence was quiet but terrifying. They didn’t know what to do.

But Edward acted anyway. He charged straight toward her, sword raised.

His blade struck.

He stabbed her through the throat, all the way through her back.

She didn’t move.

She didn’t make a sound.

He had done it.

He opened his mouth to command an attack.

But nothing came out.

Only blood.

His eyes widened as he coughed, dark red pouring from his lips.

The sword was not in her.

It was in him.

Edward’s own blade pierced his throat, blood spilling out in heavy waves as his body dropped hard to the ground.

The sound was muffled, like the world refused to hear him. He rolled onto the earth at the girl’s feet, drowning in his blood, eyes wide in confusion and terror.

No scream came, just a soft gurgle lost beneath the weight of silence.

Everyone stood frozen.

The healers rushed forward, trembling, casting their healing spells in panic.

But they weren’t healing Edward.

Their magic circled around the girl, glowing softly at her feet.

Their hands moved with devotion to heal the ground in front of her.

Edward remained on the side, his life slipping.

The girl began walking, her steps gentle on the ground receiving healing like a benediction, no sound was made, her steps were like drops of rain.

With each step, the healers moved faster, casting spell after spell upon the soil in front of her, as if desperate to prepare a path worthy of her touch.

She spoke then, in a voice soft as velvet.

"One must observe silence when mourning a soul that buried innocence. To honor him... one must return the weight of grief he bore. Equivalency must be paid, until his despair finds rest."

The adventurers shivered.

Their hearts beat faster.

They gasped for breath, thinking it was fear, pure and uncontrollable.

But it wasn’t fear. It was joy, joy and pride.

They felt honored.

Their heads bowed slowly, not out of will, but instinct, reverence. As if their bodies knew what their minds had yet to accept.

Sienna trembled.

Tears blurred her vision.

Confusion clouded her thoughts. Her heart pounded. What was this feeling?

Then, she saw it.

A soft glow, on the worse place possible: right in front of her.

A warm light brushed across her skin, followed by the quietest sound: footsteps.

The girl was in front of her.

Sienna looked up.

Her beauty was unbearable. Like staring at the sun from a dream. The girl’s purple eyes were locked on her.

The girl spoke, voice softer than a breeze.

"To offer a flower to one you hold dear, you must first know what flower they see when they think of none other. Only then may you gift them what is worthy of them."

Her pale hand rose slowly, graceful as moonlight.

Fingers reached forward and gently brushed a strand of Sienna’s hair.

She didn’t even touch her directly, yet it sent a soft shiver through Sienna’s entire body.

Her breath caught as her heart began to race, a mix of peace and euphoria spreading through her chest, warming her like a quiet flame.

"And if the moment is not yet ready," she continued, her tone gentle, "then let this flower rest. Let it sleep... until he accepts it."

She touched Sienna’s cheek, and instantly, Sienna collapsed, her body falling like a puppet whose strings had been cut.