Chapter 8: The Greedy Black Dragon.

“…Rose?”

Restel’s low voice echoed softly through the quiet bedchamber, carrying a playful note of confirmation.

He deliberately rolled the name over his tongue once more, as though savoring some novel fruit.

A faint trace of doubt flickered through his scarlet pupils.

He distinctly remembered that the priest he had pulled over was named Perth.

In the past, when he spied through the magic crystal ball, that calm—almost ruthlessly composed—priest orchestrating from the rear of the human lines should have been called Perth.

The long, brutal war between demons and humans had long since become an indelible shadow over the continent.

As the unshakable Demon King, Restel had already outlived several generations of those dubbed “Hero.”

Yet this time, things were completely different.

The humans surged forward like an tireless tide, each wave fiercer than the last. No matter how the demons counterattacked, they could never force the enemy into true desperation or compel them to abandon the offensive. The human army always managed to stubbornly hold the line—even when it seemed on the verge of collapse, they would swiftly regroup.

Day after day of deadlock plunged Restel into rare confusion.

What was sustaining the humans? What was the root of this abnormal resilience?

Then one day, by sheer chance, he pilfered an ancient magic crystal ball from an old witch’s collection.

When he infused it with dark mana, the scene above the human frontline camp appeared clearly before him.

The view focused on the core of the rear formation.

There stood a young man with short silver-white hair, neatly trimmed. He had a pair of ice-blue eyes, currently narrowed in a deep frown. His thin lips were pressed tight; an aura of battlefield-incongruous calm surrounded him, tinged with a barely perceptible impatience.

His voice wasn’t loud, but his temper certainly was.

Perth was issuing clear, rapid commands to the support mages and priests around him. Though not raised, his tone carried powerful authority and a suppressed edge of irritation:

“Priority on magic resistance armor and physical resistance auras for the frontline warriors. Support mages—your job is to maximize team survivability. Before you cast any heals, make sure all buffs are in place. Minimize casualties at all costs. Purification spells on standby—dispel debuffs instantly!”

“Holy Knights! Where’s the group shield? Keep up! Prioritize single-target shields on healers and attach auxiliary healing auras! Don’t skimp on your holy light!”

Every order seemed perfectly precise.

But when his gaze turned toward the frontline situation, his brows knotted so tightly they almost formed a single crease.

He saw the Hero clad in gleaming armor—after receiving powerful support—facing the enemy charge with apparent nonchalance. Instead of seizing the moment to press forward aggressively, he seemed to be… waiting for something.

“Tch! Maca!”

Flames nearly burst from those ice-blue eyes. Perth suppressed his fury and growled low:

“What the hell are you dawdling for?! Get in there!”

The Hero named Maca actually turned his head. Across the chaotic battlefield, he shot a helpless yet faintly provocative look toward the rear. His voice carried clearly back through amplification magic:

“My dear Priest Perth, sir—you’ve got to throw me some attack power buffs too! What good is just making me tank hits?”

He gracefully parried an incoming strike, looking utterly at ease.

“All this strength of mine is saved for the finishing blow. Ultimate technique—understand? Charging in now would just be a waste!”

Even in the midst of fierce combat, Maca still found time to shout his “tactics” explanation toward the back:

“So everyone just hang in there a bit longer! Drain their stamina and mana! Once they show an opening, I’ll give them a nice, clean finish! This is called strategy!”

“Strategy?!”

Perth’s voice suddenly rose sharply. Rage blazed in his ice-blue pupils. He was practically holding back a roar:

“What if you run into someone on the level of the Demon King?! He doesn’t need to be worn down—at the end of it all, the ones who’ll be dead are ours!”

Perth had personally witnessed a mere glimpse of the Demon King’s power in the past. That was not an existence that could be defeated through attrition.

Maca’s seemingly safe but actually offloading all pressure onto healers and supports was nothing short of slow suicide.

Deep within Demon King City, seated upon his throne, Restel lazily propped his cheek on one hand, watching the internal command conflict playing out in the human camp with great interest.

His gaze clung like something tangible to the silver-haired, blue-eyed priest whose face had gone pale with fury.

“Priest… Perth…”

Restel murmured the name softly. A cruel, intrigued curve tugged at his lips.

“What a sharp mind, what intense desire for control, and this suppressed rage…”

Dangerous light glinted in his scarlet eyes. A destructive impulse took root in his heart.

“How much mana would it take, I wonder… to personally shatter that seemingly unbreakable shell of yours…?”

The very instant that thought arose, in the crystal ball’s image, Perth’s ice-blue eyes suddenly sharpened!

He seemed to sense something. His piercing gaze cut straight through space itself, locking directly onto Restel’s direction! A powerful, pure surge of holy light erupted in an instant!

“Who’s there?! Spying?! Get out here!”

With Perth’s furious shout, the seemingly ordinary staff in his hand slammed hard into the ground. The magic crystal embedded at its head exploded with blinding white radiance—

Crack—!

The magic crystal ball before Restel let out a piercing shattering sound. Fine web-like cracks instantly covered its exquisite surface. The swirling mana inside dissipated completely, leaving behind a dull, worthless gray orb.

“Tch…”

Restel sighed with regret, his fingertip brushing lightly over the cold remains.

The fun was over.

But then he laughed again—low and filled with the delight of discovering buried treasure.

That brief glimpse had truly uncovered something extremely interesting…

As a battle-hardened warrior king, Restel had keenly sensed the aura on Perth that stood so out of place in his surroundings.

It wasn’t just anger; deeper still lay enormous dissatisfaction and repression. His combat awareness far surpassing an ordinary priest, his on-the-spot command ability, his precise judgment of the battlefield—all of it shone brilliantly yet felt so stifled and frustrated within this team led by Hero Maca.

He could even feel that behind every precise order Perth issued lurked deep contempt and fury toward the Hero’s tactics at the front.

An almost absurd idea took疯狂 root in the Demon King’s heart:

“If I could bring such talent under my banner, how tremendous would the boost be to securing demon territory—or even expanding it?”

Demons revered strength, but they were not without intellect. What Perth displayed was precisely the rare tactical wisdom the demon race lacked—the ability to command the whole picture.

“At the very least…”

Restel narrowed his eyes, imagining the scene.

“…here, he could fully unleash his talents and experience true battle fervor. Perhaps he might even feel genuine satisfaction from the bottom of his heart?”

But cold reality immediately surfaced.

He was a priest of humans; Restel was a demon. Between their races lay oceans of blood and enmity. War formed an impassable chasm; true communication had never existed.

To invite such a proud, demon-hating human priest to join them? Utter fantasy.

“Offer the richest treasures of the demon race?”

Restel rubbed his chin in thought, then shook his head with self-mockery.

Even setting aside whether the other would accept demon bribes—simply bringing a human into the peril-filled Demon King City was like tossing a fresh cut of meat into a pack of starving wolves. One careless moment and this precious priest might be torn to shreds by impatient monsters before he could even demonstrate his worth.

“Sigh…”

Restel rubbed his brow and let out a faint sigh.

In the following days, just as he expected, the human camp noticeably strengthened their anti-divination magical defenses. Whenever he tried to peek again, the crystal ball could only show blurry images of the camp perimeter; he could no longer lock onto that unforgettable silver figure.

Time passed amid the grueling war.

Finally, a faint spatial fluctuation was captured by the secret teleportation array Restel had meticulously placed around the human camp’s outskirts—an undulation brimming with an extremely powerful and pure holy force.

Since the divide of identity could not be crossed, since communication was impossible—

Then change the identity itself.

When Perth appeared via teleportation before Restel, he did not hesitate for a moment.

He directly took out his most treasured heirloom—the Demon Core containing immense power, something even he regarded as a priceless family treasure.

This was the most sincere gift he could offer Perth.

Not an invitation to join…

…but forced conversion!

And so the scene before him came to be.

The silver-haired priest vanished.

In his place was the small figure huddled in the carpet—wrapped in tattered remnants, panicked and furious, a silver-haired juvenile dragon.

…

His thoughts returning to the present, Restel’s gaze once again settled on the tightly bundled little lump in the luxurious dark-red blanket.

The little thing refused to give her real name? No matter.

Rose would do. A name bestowed by him felt more like a brand he had imprinted.

The corner of his mouth curved in an arc of total control, laced with lazy teasing:

“So then, little Rose baby.”

His voice was low and magnetic.

“How long do you plan to hide in that cozy blanket? You’re not planning to stay bundled up until the wedding starts, are you?”

The room fell into brief silence, broken only by the crackling of firewood in the hearth.

After a long moment, faint rustling came from deep within the blanket.

A muffled voice—thick with nasal congestion and humiliated anger—stammered out:

“…Clothes.”

“Hm?”

Restel raised an eyebrow, deliberately asking:

“What clothes?”

“Find me new clothes…”

The small figure suddenly poked up a little from the blanket, fur bristling with anger, voice high and thin as she shouted:

“I don’t want black!”

Clothes for a juvenile dragon?

For once, Restel was genuinely taken aback. He subconsciously raised a hand to scratch his black tousled hair.

The entire grand, sinister Demon King City was filled with powerful warriors, cunning demons, eerie undead—but never children, let alone juvenile dragons.

Where was he supposed to find clothes that fit, weren’t black, and still suited the picky little thing’s aesthetic?

“Fine.”

Restel agreed to the small one’s demand first.

Yet the tiny figure wrapped in the blanket showed no sign of relaxing.

Rose’s soft little hands quietly hugged her knees inside the plush fibers. She stared at the silver scales on the back of her hand; in the corner of her vision lay that slender silver dragon tail, listless now that it was separated from the male dragon.

A silent scream echoed in her heart. Tears welled up uncontrollably once again.

Why? Why did it have to be her?

Rose couldn’t understand. Was there really no female dragon in the entire Demon King City suitable to breed with this damned Restel?

Why did he have to forcibly turn a human priest into a juvenile dragon just to…

Shame, fury, and fierce survival instinct intertwined.

A bold—and extremely dangerous—plan gradually took shape in Rose’s small mind.

“If that’s how it is…”

Beneath her silver lashes, those eyes—still carrying the unyielding will of Perth—flashed with resolute determination.

Before the wedding could take place, she would find Restel a partner.

She would find a female dragon far more suitable than her to throw at him—!

As long as Restel’s attention was drawn to a new mate, busy with courtship or wedding preparations, then she—this “backup bride”—would be temporarily forgotten in some corner.

That would be her perfect chance to escape this Demon King City!

Heh heh heh…

Thinking of this flawless plan, the little lump under the blanket seemed to straighten slightly.

A faint but genuine spark of life—something unmistakably belonging to a living person—finally leaked out.

Though her body had been turned into a juvenile dragon, that stubborn, never-say-die resilience and the bold, decisive nature of the priest Perth seemed to be slowly, painfully reawakening.

No matter what…

She was going to find a way to escape this damned place!

That thought burned like a single spark in the darkness, blazing fiercely in Rose’s heart.