Dragon King: Throne of Demons and Gods
Chapter 57: He Who Eats Without Invitation

Chapter 57: He Who Eats Without Invitation

The firestorm in the sky swirled wildly for a moment longer, then slowly started to fade.

The battlefield was a mess of blackened snow, scorched earth, and rising steam. Patches of lingering fire crackled softly, lighting the ground in flickering orange.

Cassandra and Lyraen stood at the edge, shielding their faces.

"It’s... too hot," Lyraen muttered, squinting. "I don’t even know where to look."

Then Cassandra pointed.

"Wait... look."

A soft breeze began to stir.

The flames still burning across the field started to move. Slowly at first, just shifting.

Then, all at once, they began to twist and pull, drawn toward a single point.

Like threads of light, the fire spiraled across the battlefield, circling faster and faster, forming a fire tornado. At its base, a small glowing point shimmered.

The wind howled as it spun, but the longer it went on, the colder the air around them became. Steam turned to mist. Heat faded to chill.

Then... silence.

The fire was gone.

And at the center stood Bel.

His hand was raised, his body steady.

It was like he had absorbed it, every flame, every spark, every bit of destruction.

The furnace had gone quiet.

He stood atop the wolf’s crushed skull, smoke curling around him, smiling.

Hell had vanished.

Bel stood still, high on the wolf’s devastated skull, his body warm from the last flames.

He stared at the quiet battlefield below, the burnt snow, the melted earth, the silence that followed chaos.

And he smiled.

"That... was amazing," he whispered.

His hand moved, swiping through his hair. The bright blue panels shimmered before him.

[HP: 1,126 / 1,850]

[MP: 34 / 610]

"Yeah... that’s about right," he muttered with a chuckle.

He’d planned to fight smart, use POISON, stack BURN, and outlast the enemy.

But the moment the fire started to swirl...

He just couldn’t help himself.

"Well, it was too good, but it was worth it."

His voice was soft, almost amused. He didn’t feel tired, despite his draconic form.

The only fire in him was satisfaction. He had fought on his own terms, tested his new power, and stood victorious.

Footsteps approached carefully behind him.

Lyraen and Cassandra moved closer, their eyes wide, still stunned by his draconic form. Scales, claws, the glow in his eyes, it was hard to believe he was human.

They wanted to ask something. Anything. But their mouths opened and closed like they couldn’t find the right words.

Bel didn’t wait for questions.

He turned slightly, looking over his shoulder.

"Call the recovery team."

His voice was calm. Casual. He looked back at the dead wolf and slowly, a gentle smile touched his lips.

"I want my part of the feast."

"Really? That’s your idea of food? Tch. No taste at all." a soft voice interrupted him.

Lyraen and Cassandra snapped their heads around.

Bel looked up slowly.

There she was.

Standing on a jagged peak of icy rock, one foot slightly tilted.

Wearing elegant black shoes, perfectly clean despite the terrain, legs wrapped in purple and black striped tights, leading to a layered lolita-style dress, dark as the void and trimmed in violet lace with long sleeves, and her gloved fingers resting gently at her sides.

Covering her head was a grotesque pig skull, horns curled.

A perfect anomaly had joined the party.

Cassandra’s voice cracked.

"Who... who is that?"

Lyraen whispered.

"Where did she come from...?"

Bel didn’t answer. He narrowed his eyes.

He felt it.

The miasma.

Dark, heavy, and suffocating. A pressure, unlike any beast or monster. It was demonic but different than anything he had felt till now.

The air itself seemed to bend around her. The stench was thickest around her body, as if the rot of a hundred curses lived inside her.

She stepped forward, about to fall from the rock, but the next instant, she stood right in front of Bel.

Cassandra gasped.

"Wha—?!"

Lyraen’s knees buckled, her body frozen. Neither of them could move. It was like their blood had turned to ice.

Bel blinked.

Even he hadn’t tracked her movement.

The girl tilted her head slightly, her voice casual and almost cheerful.

"I get it. True gourmets enjoy rare meals. Smart thinking. But treating your own kind as food? That’s just rude. And breaking the code, by the way."

Bel’s eyes narrowed.

Code?

His thoughts raced. Who was she? What was she talking about?

He glanced at Cassandra and Lyraen. They were locked in place, eyes wide, unable to speak.

Then the girl leaned slightly forward, hands behind her back.

"So? Who’re you serving? I manage this zone, and I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you at Mother’s dinners. Don’t tell me you’re a rogue eater. Oh, perhaps you’re a newbie. That’d explain some of your sins."

Bel finally found his voice.

"Who... are you?"

He stepped forward, claws twitching slightly.

"And who’s this Mother? What are you talking about?"

The girl stared at Bel for a moment, her skull tilting slightly.

"Who’s Mother?" she repeated softly.

Then her tone changed.

"You’re really asking... who’s Mother? Are you serious right now? Were you born yesterday or do you just not have a brain in that pretty little head of yours?"

Bel didn’t flinch. His brow furrowed.

"I don’t. So why don’t you skip the drama and just answer. Who exactly are you?"

The girl froze.

Her head tilted the other way.

"Wait... you... you’re a follower of Mother. A devourer, clearly. You can’t fake that smell. And you’re asking who she is?"

Bel crossed his arms, eyes narrowing.

"You keep saying that like it means something to me. I don’t know any ’Mother,’ and I don’t follow anyone. Now who are you?"

She blinked, stunned. Her voice rose.

"You don’t—! Are you messing with me?! That aura, the hunger, their blood in your maw! You scream ’child of the Devourer!’ You’re telling me that’s all just a coincidence?!"

Bel shrugged.

"Sounds like your problem, not mine. If you won’t answer, I have a wolf to turn into a competence, so..."

"Unbelievable!" she snapped, stomping once on the snow, her skull rattling. "You’re walking around with that kind of appetite and you’re not even aware of it?! That’s worse than being a rogue! That’s being wasteful!"

"Then teach me," Bel said flatly. "Or stop talking. I don’t care about your titles."

The girl clenched her fists. Her energy flared.

Then... silence.

She slowly straightened.

"...Unless..."

Her voice quieted, thoughtful.

"Maybe you were born earlier... But maybe... you’re not Mother’s."

Her tone dropped to a whisper, filled with strange wonder.

"That would change everything."

Her fingers slowly reached up to her skull.

"See, I can forgive a child who wandered too far from the nest. That happens. I get it."

She gripped the bone mask.

"But I draw the line at a stranger... who eats from my plate."

The skull lifted, just enough to reveal one shimmering demonic eye underneath.

The air turned cold.