After Balthazar finished checking his status bar, he turned his dragon head toward a trembling shadow in the mine tunnel.
There was a group of Kobolds who had long been trembling in fear, lying on the ground and not daring to lift their heads.
Although they possessed a thin dragon bloodline, in the face of true Dragon Might, instinctive fear made them not even dare to breathe.
The shadow cast by Balthazar’s massive body enveloped them.
He lowered his noble head, his gaze precisely locking onto a Kobold that was slightly larger, about 1.3 meters tall, with dark green skin and wearing the weathered, pale skull of a small Young Dragon on its head.
This was the Kobold Balthazar had seen before.
“Hmph…”
A low rumble, like grinding gears, emanated from the depths of his throat.
Balthazar slightly opened his massive, fang-filled maw, his vocal cords vibrating with extreme difficulty as he spoke the world language.
“You… come here.”
The green Kobold that had been singled out shuddered violently, scrambled up from the ground in a panic, tail tucked between its legs, and trotted tremblingly to Balthazar, where it threw itself down again with a “thump,” forehead pressed firmly against the ground, shivering like a sieve.
Balthazar narrowed his dark red eyes, his massive dragon head leaning close to the tiny figure, allowing the creature to even feel the scent of sulfur and blood in his breath.
“Na… me.”
He spat out the world language word by word, his voice as low as thunder rumbling in his chest, “Tell… me.”
“…Also.”
He paused, seemingly searching for vocabulary in his mind, then his blood-stained sharp claw lightly scraped the ground, creating a spark, and he continued to ask in that imperious tone: “Tribe… number… how many?”
The green-skinned Kobold leader had tears streaming down its face from the sulfurous breath rushing toward it, and the weathered Young Dragon skull cap on its head clattered with “click-clack” sounds due to its violent trembling.
In its eyes, the behemoth before it, which had just slaughtered elite human mercenaries as easily as chopping melons and vegetables, was the embodiment of destruction and rebirth from myth.
Hearing this broken but majestic question in the world language, it dared not show the slightest mockery; instead, as if it had heard a divine oracle, it knocked its head against the gravel-filled ground with a loud thud, the skin on its forehead instantly rupturing and oozing green blood.
“Gr… Great… An… Ancestor!”
It stammered in response, using equally broken world language, its voice shrill and ear-piercing, full of humility and obsequiousness, “This one… this one’s name is… Kral! Am… the leader… of this bunch of trash…”
The Kobold named Kral lifted its head slightly, its murky, yellow eyes carefully stealing a glance at Balthazar’s blood-stained maw, before immediately shrinking back in fear, as if even a single glance were blasphemy.
“Tribe… we are the… ‘Iron-Eater’ tribe…”
It swallowed hard, hurriedly extending its two withered claws, which had only three fingers each, and gestured, seemingly afraid that if it answered too slowly, it would be swallowed in one bite.
“Num… number! Total… thirty… three!”
Kral tried hard to count its pitiful family assets in its mind, reporting at high speed:
“Able-bodied adults who can mine…
twelve!
Able…
able to lay eggs, female Kobolds…
ten!
And…
and five hatchlings that just broke their shells…
the rest are old things…
if…
if the Great Ancestor is hungry…
those old things…
the meat is sour…
but can be eaten…”
After finishing, it immediately turned back and let out a few rapid, fierce barks at the group of its kind who were also lying on the ground behind it.
“Woof! Squeak!”
Hearing the leader’s command, a few of the slightly stronger Kobolds immediately used their hands and feet to pull several pieces of ore emitting a faint silver light from the baskets on their backs.
These were the unrefined Mithril Ore they had been frantically digging for deep in the mine these past few days after seeing Balthazar.
Kral held the pieces of ore high above its head, as if offering the most precious treasure in the world, and tremblingly delivered them to Balthazar’s massive claws.
“This is… tribute! All… the shiny stones… belong to you! Great… Dragon Emperor!”
“We… can dig holes… can make traps… and can… smell the scent of metal…”
“Please… don’t eat… Kral… Kral… is useful…”
Although Balthazar had already accepted their tribe as slaves, serving a ruler is like serving a tiger, especially when their ruler is a dragon.
Kral dared not show the slightest disrespect, fearing that if it could not prove its tribe was useful, the only fate for these lowly creatures would be to become tomorrow’s excrement of this dragon.
Balthazar squeezed these two words from the depths of his throat, the satisfied low growl exploding over Kral’s head like muffled thunder, making the poor Kobold leader’s eardrums ring.
His massive dragon claws casually fiddled with the pieces of Mithril Ore emitting an alluring magical fluctuation, his sharp nails scraping harsh sounds against the surface of the ore, leaving deep gouges.
Although the purity of these ores was not high, as a snack, it was better than nothing.
“Assemble… the tribe.”
Balthazar lifted his head, his dark red slit pupils scanning the mine entrance, which was already filled with the scent of death and blood.
This place was no longer hidden; with the annihilation of the Black Dog Mercenary Group, a larger-scale retaliation would soon arrive.
As a qualified ruler, before one’s power reaches the point of crushing everything, a strategic relocation is a necessary wisdom.
“Prepare… to migrate.”
That hoarse, jerky, yet undeniably magical voice echoed between the empty rock walls.
Every syllable was like a hammer striking the fragile defensive lines of the Kobolds’ hearts, engraving this order into their instincts.
“Yes! Yes! As you command! Great Majesty!”
Kral shuddered and scrambled into the deeper lair of the mine, running while letting out unintelligible “Gawu Gawu” howls.
Balthazar watched with satisfaction as the busy back of the Kobold disappeared into the darkness, then turned and walked with heavy but steady steps toward the core of the temporary lair.
His massive dragon body passed through the winding passages, creating rough scraping sounds against the damp rock walls.
Upon entering the core area of the lair, the smell of blood and stench filling the air was replaced by a scent of earth and a rich aroma of hawthorn flowers.
Olga was standing beside Chloe, who had fallen back into a deep sleep.
Chloe was supported by Olga’s magic, floating in mid-air, while Olga carefully wiped the sweat from the sleeping Chloe’s forehead with a relatively clean piece of linen, and meticulously cleaned the slight turbid fluid from the corners of her lips.
The knight’s originally disheveled clothing had been rearranged; although it still couldn’t be called intact, it at least wrapped around that enticing body, looking slightly more decent.
Looking at the slightly swollen, delicate body, the Queen’s face was pale, her fingertips gently caressing Chloe’s calm sleeping face, her eyes carrying a hint of indescribable complexity.
Anger, shame, sadness, and the worry from hearing the battle and screams earlier, all eventually turned into a numb resignation.
Sensing the massive figure approaching, Olga lifted her head, the madness and hysteria previously on her face fading away, her amber eyes calmly meeting Balthazar’s dark red slit pupils, her tone recovering a hint of its usual coldness.
“It seems… the ‘performance’ outside is over?”
She was referring to the one-sided slaughter Balthazar had just carried out.
The Queen’s slender fingertips lightly rested on the sleeping Chloe’s wrist, feeling the lingering restlessness within the knight’s body, and then she used magic to place her on a pile of straw on the ground.
“I… thought… you would… cast her aside…”
“No matter what I look like in your eyes, I am not a heartless monster, Balthazar.”
Olga reached out, gently brushing away a new bead of sweat from Chloe’s forehead, and said to Balthazar:
“I see Chloe’s loyalty, and I also know her devotion and faithfulness to me, and how much effort she can put forth to repay the small kindness I have bestowed upon her.”
“It is precisely because she is so loyal to me that I promoted her to be my knight, even if she is an unclean half-blood Dark Elf.”
“…Your Majesty…”
Seemingly hearing Olga’s evaluation of her while in her sleep, Chloe murmured.
Hearing Chloe calling out to her even in her sleep, so loyal, a faint smile appeared on Olga’s face.
“… Balthazar… Your Majesty… ”
Upon hearing this name, the smile on Olga’s face froze, and she let out a huff.
“Anyway, I will take care of her while she is unconscious, deigning to act as a maid… After all, you wouldn’t want a Kobold to serve your wife, would you?”
Balthazar nodded silently.
Of course, there are female Kobolds, but their clumsiness is exactly the same as the males.
Letting these female Kobolds take care of Chloe would only result in a clown show about how to throw dirty rags into a companion’s face.
Seeing that Balthazar agreed, Olga threw away the rag, returning to her image as a high-and-mighty queen, her eyes once again filled with that arrogance that looked down upon all things.
“Is it time to move?”
Olga asked softly, her tone not sharp.
Evidently, this “foolish” queen had finally temporarily accepted the established fact that the powerful creature before her was re-establishing order.
At the same time, she also anticipated that Balthazar would begin to relocate the nest—the fact that she had already packed her own and Chloe’s belongings was the best proof of this.
Balthazar’s dragon head nodded slightly.
“That is correct… ”
His hoarse voice was simple and powerful, like a heavy millstone grinding over a rough rock surface.
He lowered his head slightly, and the metallic scent unique to dragons, along with a faint smell of sulfur, lingered at the tip of Olga’s nose.
“Do you have any… ideas?”
Olga quietly met Balthazar’s oppressive gaze.
“I think… we should go North.”
Olga’s fingertip pointed deeper into the mine, which was also the general direction leading north, away from the City of Darkness.
That was the direction of the permanently frozen mountain range, and the sacred homeland of the Dark Elves, “Nidavellir”.
“To a more…
secluded place.” The Queen’s voice was like an ice-covered mountain peak, cold and distant, “To the black…
mountains.
There, I have my…
memories of the past.”
When Olga mentioned the “black mountains”, the corners of her lips curled slightly into a sneer tinged with a hint of nostalgia.
“One day, I will make those sisters of mine suffer divine retribution… ”
“Retribution for abandoning a Dark Elf as excellent as I am.”
As Olga’s voice fell, two status bars appeared before Balthazar’s eyes.
They were the status bars for Olga and Chloe.
Dark Elf Queen – Olga Discordia (Olga Discordia)
Current Status: Has concluded a transaction with you, using her body as a bargaining chip to exchange for the ability to restore her country and take revenge on the human mercenary group Black Dogs.
Olga has temporarily satisfied the conditions of the transaction with you through her subordinate Chloe, and has accepted the status quo of you being in a leadership position.
Stat Profile:
HP: 80 / 80
MP: 450 / 450 (Weakened)
Strength: 3 (As a Dark Elf mage, she is not known for strength, but she is still stronger than an ordinary human.)
Agility: 4 (Similarly, thanks to racial talents, she is stronger than humans.)
Endurance: 3 (Although her body is immortal, fatigue will still accumulate; her endurance is only slightly better than that of an ordinary adult human.)
Intelligence: 25 (One of the premier mages in the Kuroinu World, but her magical abilities are currently in a weakened state.)
Perception: 15 (Powerful perception abilities brought about by spiritual cultivation and racial talents.)
Equipment: Queen’s Gown: A gown that can cover the entire body, with an internal revealing outfit that allows trusted individuals and those who dominate her to view large expanses of her dark honey-colored skin.
Obsidian Magic Mirror: One of the spellcasting mediums.
Special Abilities: [Dark Sorcery]: Curses, Slave Mark, Telekinesis, Dark Arrow, etc.
[Monster Enhancement]: Can significantly increase the combat power of subordinate monsters/offspring.
[Divine Body]: A powerful body derived from the Father God of this world view, immune to blades, fire, water, poison, and disease; a perfect, immortal body.
[Maternal Eligibility (New)]: As a pure-blooded Dark Elf, she is the perfect breeding ground for the dragon race, though she is not yet willing to admit this.
Half-Blood Knight – Chloe (Chloe)
Current Status: Unconscious.
In her dreams, she is dreaming of Balthazar, while in her heart she is thinking of her Queen, feeling conflicted.
Stat Profile:
HP: 180 / 180 (Weakened)
MP: 30 / 30 Strength: 12 (Strength far exceeding human warriors, but her slender body gives her a small strike surface; wielding a giant weapon is a good choice, but her sword is only at the level of a one-handed sword.)
Agility: 16 (Incredible flexibility and suppleness, allowing her to withstand the size and essence of a dragon.)
Endurance: 10 (Powerful endurance brought about by a trained body and Dark Elf bloodline, allowing her to withstand the dragon’s vigorous desires.)
Intelligence: 6 (Possesses the tactical level to formulate tactical plans for a hundred people; a competent Royal Guard Knight.)
Perception: 9 (Experience accumulated from battlefield combat allows her to quickly judge an enemy’s vital points and kill with a single blow.)
Equipment: Completely Naked (Armor removed): Currently has no defense.
Steel Longsword: Chloe’s usual sword, currently being packed into the luggage by Olga.
Refined Light Armor: Chloe’s Royal Guard Knight armor, already packed into the luggage by Olga.
Special Abilities: [Guardian’s Oath]: Sworn to protect Olga to the death; when fighting to directly protect Olga, all stats increase.
[Sword Skill · Gale]: High-speed combo gale sword technique.
[Half-Blood Constitution]: Possesses both human adaptability and Elven agility, also suitable as a breeding substrate.
After confirming the two status bars, Balthazar let out a low roar at Olga.
“You will… have your wish.”
“Now… prepare to begin your journey of revenge… set off.”