Traces of Demons

The investiture ceremony thus came to an end. Cassius made no attempt to conceal what had happened. Instead, he publicized it with great fanfare, almost as if worried that someone might not hear of it. Leaflets fluttered down like snowflakes, and the wyverns carried news of the grand event across every corner of Anzeta. Reactions varied widely. The nobles of the Northlands were gripped by panic, terrified that this newly awakened red dragon would unleash a catastrophe potent enough to shatter their rule, and deeply anxious that such a bizarre system would churn out terrifying war machines. Yet many commoners harbored different thoughts. They fled toward the Kingdom of Cinders, eager to grasp at power and pursue the legendary lifespan and strength of a dragon. Regardless, Cassius had achieved his goal. He cared little whether this would give the northern realms time to prepare. What mattered to him was planting the sparks in the minds of the people, ensuring that once the war was over, the construction of a new order could proceed far more swiftly. Cassius reclined upon the iron throne and spread his wings slightly. Two streams of white smoke vented from the spiracles along his neck, while the dragon crystal at his chest, still radiating intense heat, rapidly cooled and dimmed. "Three years. Three years have already passed." "Only one year remains until the Great Disintegration of Holy Fadlan occurs, and fifty thousand open beta players descend upon Anzeta." "By then, I will establish a brand-new order across the Great Anzetta Waste and unite the entire Northlands." Cassius murmured to himself, gazing into the distance. ... Deep within the Anstica Mountains. Alger, mounted upon the dragon-blooded giant eagle, shot out from the portal. It was another routine patrol. Over the past three years, he had surveyed this area countless times and knew the terrain surrounding the portal like the back of his hand. Yet the Anstica Mountains were far vaster than he had ever imagined. Even after so much time spent exploring, vast tracts of territory remained untouched, waiting to be charted. Alger drew a parchment scroll from the saddlebag at the giant eagle's side, its ends inlaid with the Cinder Crest. When unrolled, it projected a map formed of magical particles, rendering every peak and river with crystal clarity and shimmering with faint motes of spiritual light. A distinct, glowing dot marked Alger's current position. This map had been prepared by the kingdom specifically for Alger to log the areas he had charted, and the bulk of it was already filled in. In truth, this was merely a trial version. In the future, the kingdom would mass-produce refined iterations—even gem-encrusted collector's editions sold to players at exorbitant prices—though that was a matter for later days. "Sector 327: no sign of demons." Alger tapped the designated zone. A line struck through it automatically, marking the survey complete. Over these three years, he had already finished exploring hundreds of sectors. "Next is Sector 328." "Igor." Alger patted the giant eagle's neck. The creature understood instantly, tucking its wings and streaking through the peaks at blistering speed. After undergoing the second Bloodline Boon, Alger felt that both he and the giant eagle had grown considerably stronger. Sharp, jagged teeth had sprouted along the giant eagle's beak, shedding much of its avian appearance in favor of a drake-like visage, while Alger himself could even unleash a breath of scorching flame. In mere moments, the giant eagle crested several peaks and arrived at Sector 328 as marked on the map. The distant mountains undulated like the jagged, uneven teeth of a dragon. Barren and desolate. That was Alger's sole impression of the Anstica Mountains. The highest peaks of the range reached elevations of over five thousand meters, cleaving the Great Anzetta Waste from the south while barring the frigid currents flowing from the north. Stretching for hundreds of li, the mountains were buried beneath heavy snow year-round, revealing their black bedrock only briefly in the summer. No one dared attempt to scale these mountains. Even migrating birds would never choose to pass through here, and even the mightiest, most resilient fighters would typically enter only through the narrow mountain passes. Had the giant eagle not received the draconic boon, Alger would never have dared venture into this forbidden zone of life. *Whoosh—* The northern wind howled, the biting gale making Alger let out a sneeze laced with the scent of sulfur. Yet his pointed ears, covered in reddish keratin, twitched slightly. Alger leaned forward and whispered, "Igor, do you hear that?" "It's not just the wind... there's something else." Indeed, it was more than just the wind; woven within it were mournful wails and heavy, ominous murmurs. At long last, he had caught the call of demons. Of course, it could well be something else. Throughout his reconnaissance, Alger had already dispatched plenty of monsters lurking deep in the crags—gnolls hidden within the mountain fastnesses, abominable yetis sleeping in ice caves, and even polar drakes concealed beneath the snow. Alger spoke no further. Relying on his keen hearing to pinpoint the source of the sound, he steered the giant eagle purely through shifts of his body weight. He noticed that the Seek Demons scroll at his side was pulsing faintly with a blood-red light. Perhaps he truly had found them. Alger squeezed his legs, guiding the giant eagle into a dive. Sure enough, several dark silhouettes materialized in the air ahead. Alger immediately gave chase. Only when he drew within dozens of meters could he make them out clearly—monstrous amalgams of vultures and humanoids with twisted, bestial torsos, a pair of broad wings reeking of foul decay, and mouths that shrieked like wailing women. Alger's expression darkened, his brow furrowing. "Vrocks." Through the kingdom's archives, he had already familiarized himself with several fundamental demon breeds. For instance, these vulture-like fiends relished gorging upon humanoids and frequently stunned their quarry with deafening screeches. The giant eagle hovered at a higher altitude, and the vrocks, seemingly in a hurry, had not yet noticed him. "Stay on them," Alger signaled silently. Maintaining a steady speed, the giant eagle trailed them from a safe distance above. Eventually, the vrocks flew into a cavern of colossal proportions. Amid swirling, dust-like snowflakes, the dragon-blooded giant eagle touched down before the yawning abyss of the cavern. Even over the shrieking wind, Alger could distinctly hear the murmurs and plaintive wails echoing from its depths. "This is the place." Alger drew the Everburning Greatsword from his back, gripping it tightly in his hands. Flames erupted along the blade, illuminating the immediate area and allowing him to barely make out the path ahead. Demons carried the corrupting blight of the Abyss itself; their mere presence was enough to wither the surrounding world. The cavern was pitted with depressions large and small, brimming with foul, stagnant pus and drenched in an inescapable stench. The scroll at his side flared with increasing urgency, like dancing blood. Yet Alger felt little joy at locating his objective. He knew all too well what terrifying creatures demons were; the slightest slip could see his bones buried here forever. Even the dragon-blooded giant eagle shuddered slightly, betraying a trace of reluctance.