The Demon King's First General
Chapter 196: Thank Piero

Chapter 196: Thank Piero

Crescent stared at the man in front. She tried to assess his words, and despite his warm smile flashing at her, her hands were shaking while beads of sweat rolled over her forehead.

"M-My soul is not available for you to take," she uttered, summoning all of her courage to speak.

"That’s one disappointing answer. I thought I would have something new in my collections," the demon replied.

"You better thank Piero; otherwise, I would take it by force," he added.

Then, he put his hand on the top of the elf’s head without averting his gaze away from her. Crescent wanted to push his arm, but she couldn’t do so; her strength was nowhere to be found as fear enveloped her mind.

However, she felt her emotions spinning, swirling around when, the next moment, the demon messed her hair a little before moving forward, passing through Crescent’s side.

The elven princess turned around; she wanted to ask him who he was and what his real purpose was for killing a group of centaurs, but she was too afraid that the words failed to escape from her lips.

She just stared at the demon’s silhouette until he disappeared in the thick forest. Seconds later, his presence was gone completely, and the rest of the elves regained their abilities to move.

"My Lady? Are you alright?" One of the guards asked as soon as he stood up, checking on their princess.

Still puzzled about the man’s existence, it took Crescent several seconds to reply.

"Y-Yes," she nodded.

Without anything left for them to do, the elves return back to their home and discuss what happened along with the others.

"Silver-haired man with a red dice dangling as an earring?" An old elf uttered, his eyes squinting while racking his brain.

"Yes, elder! His presence is similar to a human’s, but he’s definitely not one," added another elf.

Meanwhile, Crescent was left there sitting near the window, her eyes staring out at nowhere, still thinking about the man when her gaze landed on the giant tree.

Then, something clicked inside her mind. She stood up and strode towards her late father’s room. Hundreds of books welcomed her as soon as she opened the door; however, she went past these shelves and didn’t even give them a glance.

She went straight into the king’s study area, and upon reaching a table with an opened book placed on its top, he sat down and flipped its pages.

She skimmed through it until she found the context about Piero, the elves’ legendary hero.

"Born from an elven knight..." She began reading his story without omitting a single word.

However, she felt disappointed as she was about to reach the end of his history, but there was still not a single clue about the silver-haired man.

The elven princess was on the brink of giving up when something caught her attention: it was the hero’s last stand against the Demon Army.

"Piero entered a covenant with the Demon King’s General, his soul in exchange for a pledge to spare all of the elves from the Demon General’s threat," Crescent uttered, reading a statement.

Then, she closed the book and stared at it. Her mind was in a constant whirlpool of thoughts.

"There’s no way that’s him," she murmured while shaking her head.

. . . . .

The same day, during the night before the witching hour, the elves were still busy preparing for the war, though everything was almost done.

Most of the elves had already equipped themselves with armor, and their quivers were filled with arrows.

Their tactics were simple: centaurs were known for their strong build that could trample their enemies on the battlefield, but not elves. The trees were a part of them; fighting the centaurs without stepping on the ground would be a huge advantage that would lead to their victory.

However, they still needed to be careful and take the battle in a very serious manner. After all, a war’s conclusion did not always go as planned.

With that in mind, when dawn came, the elves commenced their assault. They used the fog as their cover, leaping from trees after trees while doing their best to conceal the sound of their movements.

They were like fine assassins trained especially for covert operations. Then, before the sun showed itself above and bathed everything with its gleaming radiance, the elves reached the centaurs’ stronghold.

With two elders leading their assault, they surrounded the place and observed for any unusual activities.

However, almost several minutes had passed, yet they failed to notice even a single movement.

’Weird, I can’t detect any presence. Did our plan get leaked?’ An old elf contemplated.

’No, that’s impossible,’ he added, dismissing his previous thoughts.

Then, he raised his hand and gestured to move forward. They came closer, but they still couldn’t feel any centaur present, which left the old elf with no other choice.

He gave a signal for some others to leap downward while they backed them up from behind. They conducted a search in the vicinity, but after thoroughly checking several huts, they still found not a single centaur.

’Where are they?’ The elves asked deep inside them, curious about their enemies sudden disappearance.

They were busy contemplating when a shout came from a certain direction.

"Elder! This way!" One of the elves yelled.

Without wasting any time, the group of elves sprinted towards their companion’s location.

An old, worn-out hut came into their view, and a foul stench coming from it assaulted their noses. Then, as they came closer, in front of it, they saw an old centaur’s head placed on the tip of a stick stuck in the ground.

Worms were protruding from its eyes, nose, and ears, signifying that it had been dead already for a few days.

"T-That’s the old chieftain!" The elven elder exclaimed; the gap between his lips couldn’t hide his sudden shock.

"Who killed him? We didn’t even hear about his death," one of the elves’ stated.

Without averting his gaze from the chieftain’s head, the elder replied. "I don’t know; I’m clueless about this fact as well."

Then he sighed and paid his respects to the chieftain.

"This means one thing: they have a new chieftain, and it’s more likely that he is the one responsible for the centaurs’ aggressiveness," the elder concluded.

Afterward, he unsheathed the dagger on his waist and cut the stick containing the head.

"Give the chieftain a proper burial," he issued a command before turning around.

"We should head back first and search for the centaur’s new stronghold," he added.

Little did they know, in a certain part of the Garden of Dreams, another massacre was commenced where a massive black dragon devoured the last warrior of the centaurs.

. . . . .

Several hours earlier, Blackwell opened his eyes and stood up upon hearing the loud, repetitive sound coming from several footsteps.

He stared at the group of centaurs charging towards his direction. Their numbers were large enough to win a war against the elves but small enough to hunt down a dragon.

With a loud, raging roar that reverberated in the vicinity, Blackwell shifted to his original form. His massive size blocked the path in complete and his presence sent vibrations in the air.

The centaurs halted on their march upon seeing the black creature.

"What is a dragon doing here?" One of them asked in confusion.

"Should we attack it?" Another stated.

They weren’t intimidated by Blackwell’s terrifying presence; after all, they believed in their overwhelming numbers.

However, they remained still for a few seconds as their chieftain, the centaur with a tattoo of a sun imprinted on his chest, stepped forward and questioned the black dragon.

"Who are you? Why are you blocking our path?" He asked, his voice showing no sign of fear.

"I’m not obliged to answer a prey," Blackwell sneered.

Then, without waiting for their reply, he opened his mouth and let out a breath towards the centaurs. Due to his sudden attack, most of the group failed to react, and a portion of their kind turned into smithereens as they were caught in the ray of black energy.

"Everyone! After him! Eliminate the threat before us!" The chieftain yelled and led his people to subjugate the dragon.

However, as they came closer, an orb of black concentrated energy was hurled towards them, creating an outburst that made the ground tremble.

The numbers of the centaurs dwindled once more as half of them were caught in the explosion. The chieftain clenched his jaw, his eyes glaring at the creature before them.

"Surround him!" He ordered.

He was a terrible leader, instead of thinking about the safety of his remaining people. He still planned on counterattacking despite seeing a lot of his comrades perish from the dragon’s attacks.

The war axe in his hand radiated an unusual golden color as he charged towards Blackwell in a zigzag pattern. He unleashed his Legacy, and every time his hooves stomped on the ground, his speed doubled while the light on his weapon turned brighter.

Blackwell glanced at him, and he felt puzzled about his actions.

"Is he dumb?" He asked, and his wings flapped several times, creating strong gusts of wind in the process. Dust particles drifted into the air, which created a smokescreen that concealed Blackwell’s body.

Then small black orbs materialized around him, hidden from his opponents as well. It equaled the number of centaurs still alive with the exception of their chieftain.

Seconds later, without his opponents knowing, he fired all the orbs, and consecutive blasts reverberated inside the forest.

Blackwell glanced at his side as he felt the chieftain’s presence coming closer. Then he moved his tail towards his left to defend against his attack. He parried the war axe and flicked the centaur away. The next second, he flew upward.

The human-horse creature slammed into a huge tree, and a dent on its trunk appeared the moment he slid downward. The centaur stood up, and fear was now evident in his eyes. He glanced at his people, thinking of giving out an order, but he failed to see even one of them present in the vicinity.

"W-Where are they?" He uttered in confusion.

However, the response that he got was a wide-open mouth filled with countless razor-sharp teeth coming towards him from above.

As the chieftain failed to notice the incoming danger, his body snapped into two, with the black dragon devouring half of his flesh.

. . . . .