"Is this..."
"Is this the royal palace?"
Misha looked around cautiously. Her gaze swept across the towering, magnificent ramparts, past the standing stone pillars, and rested on the imposing iron palace in the distance.
Old John had told her that this palace was the residence of His Majesty Cassius, where the treasures of the entire kingdom were gathered.
*Roar—*
Seeing Trump and Misha approach, the wyverns perched on the stone pillars raised their heads in unison and let out long cries, while the tieflings standing guard at the gate bowed their heads in greeting.
Ekmon, the captain of the tiefling guard, stepped forward and said respectfully, "Good day, Lord Trump. His Majesty is awaiting you in the main hall."
"I understand."
Trump gave a slight nod. He lightly tapped his staff, bringing Misha down to the ground so they could proceed on foot.
Walking inward with practiced familiarity, Trump said in a low voice, "This is the residence of His Majesty Cassius, the most sacred and inviolable place in the entire kingdom. Here, any flight or teleportation spell is considered an act of presumption.
"Even I must enter on foot. It is a sign of respect to His Majesty."
The ogre mage was massive; even though he deliberately slowed his pace, each stride still covered two meters, leaving Misha struggling to keep up.
Still, she answered breathlessly, "Yes, my lord."
Yet when they fully stepped inside, the sight before her filled Misha with awe, causing her to stop dead in her tracks.
"This is..."
Although partially covered by newly planted vegetation, the ground was still littered with black, solidified lava, gently undulating or mounded into broad ridges, still preserving the frozen contours of a molten flow.
A wave of sweltering heat carrying a heavy scent of sulfur washed over her, making her feel as though she had stepped into the crater of a volcano.
Trump stopped and said with excitement, "Do you see? This is His Majesty's mighty power. Even an unintentional leak of his energy is beyond the imagination of mortal beings.
"I shall grant you protection with a spell."
He was about to raise his staff when he noticed Misha closing her eyes. She took a deep breath of the scorching air, her entire body relaxing.
"No need, Lord Trump."
"Thank you for your concern, but right now I feel... good. Better than ever."
Misha slowly opened her eyes. Fiery light danced within her brown pupils, and her delicate face was filled with exhilaration.
To a sorcerer with an extreme affinity for the fire element, entering a scorching environment created by a red dragon was like a fish returning to water; energy surged throughout her body.
"Then that couldn't be better."
A barely perceptible flicker of astonishment crossed Trump's face.
To feel comfortable in such an extreme environment meant Misha's talent likely exceeded all expectations. It even left Trump feeling a hint of envy—he finally understood why some wizards sneered at sorcerers as 'savages.'
Along the way, Trump repeatedly impressed upon Misha the red dragon's supreme majesty, reviewing the audience etiquette again and again.
They walked along the path for several dozen minutes before finally reaching its end, where the grand panorama of the majestic palace came into full view.
"Whoa."
Although she had prepared herself mentally, Misha still could not help letting out a soft gasp when she looked up.
The Steel Dragonwing Palace was built against the mountain, shaped like a pair of broad, unfurled dragon wings. The main structure of the palace was forged from refined steel—marred by over a hundred savage gashes torn by the red dragon. Even after several renovations, they could not be entirely hidden, yet they radiated a raw, primal sense of power.
Trump bowed slightly, waiting outside the palace, and instructed in a low voice:
"Misha, this is the palace's main hall, where His Majesty resides. Remember the etiquette I taught you.
"Go on. His Majesty wishes to see you alone."
"Yes, Lord Trump. I will remember your teachings."
Misha nodded solemnly.
During her walk forward, she looked back rather uneasily from time to time. Only after Trump gave her a reassuring nod did she dare press onward.
*Lord Trump might look a bit ugly, but he's a kindhearted person—at least far better than those beastly hypocrites among the nobles. Every last one of them deserves to be tied to a pyre and burned to ashes,*
Misha thought to herself.
*I just wonder... what the legendary Majesty is like.*
Lost in thought, she looked up and realized she had already arrived before the heavy gates. Apprehension tightened in her chest.
She called out softly:
"Y-Your Majesty... I'm here."
Before she could even finish her sentence, Misha quickly clapped a hand over her mouth, realizing that her nervousness had made her forget the steps Trump had drilled into her.
Fortunately, nothing went wrong.
*Rumble—*
With a deep rolling sound, the massive doors carved with ferocious dragon heads slowly swung open.
Misha's legs were already trembling slightly, but she did her best to rein in her panic. Following Trump's instructions, she kept her head lowered and walked inside step by step, finally kneeling before the flight of stairs.
"Your Majesty, I am Misha. I have... come to seek an audience with you."
"Don't be nervous. Rise."
The voice held a touch of amusement, sounding far from the cold, ruthless tyrant she had imagined.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Misha stood up and gingerly raised her eyes, finally catching sight of the magnificent figure on the throne.
—The colossal red dragon sat upon the steel throne, magma-like ripples coursing across his scales. Several horns crowned the top of his head like a diadem, and fiery light flickered within his pale gold pupils.
Merely by existing there, the red dragon seemed the living embodiment of the fire element.
Yet strangely, though Misha felt a shudder of fear, a far stronger emotion overshadowed it—a sense of kinship.
Yes, kinship.
More precisely, an innate draw toward a higher power of the exact same origin.
Fire danced within Misha's brown eyes as well. She could feel the fire element within her body responding to his presence, leaping constantly, as if cheering, paying homage, and bowing in allegiance to the red dragon.
Cassius was also studying the girl before him, a trace of curiosity in his gaze.
*Misha.*
*The 'Frenzied Flame Witch' who slaughtered countless players in my past life is still just a child right now.*
*How intriguing.*
In his eyes, the girl before him had almost transcended humanity; she could practically be classified as a semi-magical creature, every drop of blood in her veins brimming with elemental fire.
In his past life, this talent had a far more fitting name—"Child of the Elements."
Misha hesitated, twisting the hem of her clothes into a tight knot, unsure of what to say.
Cassius was the first to speak, his tone calm: "Trump has already informed me of your purpose. You wish to... seek vengeance against Leo Bosque?"
"Yes, honored Majesty."
"That shameless monster orchestrated the Magur Incident and brutally murdered my grandfather. I want to avenge him!"
Misha answered hurriedly.
As she spoke of this, her voice stopped trembling; instead, it rang with resounding resolve.
Chapter 362