The Red Dragon Just Wants To Do As It Pleases

In the New Continent of Granyel, Central Earth, located more than fifty kilometers west of the Royal Capital in the Valden Kingdom, there was a cattle ranch.

What used to be a rather serene and beautiful farm had been completely transformed, covered with bloodstains and what seemed to be fragments of human bodies and offal, resembling the sacrificial scene of an Evil God.

After an unknown amount of time, several children, who bore scales, horns, or tails to some extent, cautiously poked their heads out from a wooden hut with a hole ripped in its roof, their eyes filled with shock and disbelief.

"My God, the entity Redscale had been praying to actually 'appeared'? Are all these damned 'vampires' dead?"

This was the scene they had dreamed of countless times in midnight reveries. Yet, when they suffered beatings and abuse from those adults, they, mere Dragonkin children with only slightly more strength than humans, found it difficult even to take their own lives, let alone perish together with their tormentors.

Those 'demons in human skin' were Professionals.

And these children, marked with the features of Dragonkin, were never considered human by them.

In their eyes, the most valuable thing about these children was their blood, which could apparently be used as an inferior substitute for Dragon Blood in alchemy or even to make potions.

To outsiders, this was just an obscure cattle farm.

But to them, these 'inhuman half-breeds,' they were nothing more than calves, bled and exploited daily.

For these Dragonkin, this place was a living hell, the Abyssal Depths.

Yet now, it seemed as if they had truly been saved by the 'Blood Demon' Redscale kept invoking. How ironic.

"Where's Redscale?" A child with a worried expression wanted to rush out but was stopped.

"Don't go out yet. What if someone else is still alive?"

"Then what do we do? With such a commotion here, someone is bound to come sooner or later."

For them, these 'aberrations,' no matter whose hands they fell into, their fate would likely be much the same. Being slaves would arguably be the best they could hope for.

"We'll open all the cells, and everyone will escape together."

This was immediately opposed by a peer, "Have you forgotten how those brutes treated us every day? They envied us, beat us, bullied us!"

"They could help distract any pursuers, if there are any."

"...Why didn't you say so sooner? That's a good idea. I'll go open the doors now. Then what?" The child found the keys amid the blurred mess of flesh and blood.

"First, we follow the trail of blood to find Redscale. She once said that when she was younger, she encountered a ship of Elves at the Port of Wallens. That cherished red vial she prayed to day and night was given to her by one of the Elves from the Old Continent, which is said to have many great Dragons. Since humans don't accept us, let's try to stow away to the Old Continent. Even if... even if the great Dragons also see us as half-breeds, at least there, we might find a piece of land on that Continent where we can survive, instead of staying here to be oppressed."

The girl's words immediately drew the attention of the bewildered Dragonkin children, and a glimmer of hope shone in their dim eyes.

Yes, if we're doomed not to find a place in the realm of humans, wouldn't it be better to flee to a place without humans? Even if the goal is too distant, we could, like Redscale, gain strength to fight our fate by believing in that 'Crimson Calamity' or 'Blood Demon' entity.

But all of this depended on finding Redscale.

Soon, accompanied by a commotion, a group of almost naked Dragonkin was released.

They reacted differently upon seeing the bodies strewn everywhere—some hesitated before quickly fleeing, while a few who were obviously older, especially the females, seemed to become unhinged, throwing themselves onto the corpses, their faces twisted as they bit into the raw flesh.

After the crowd dispersed, a few children, supporting each other, looked on with complex expressions at everything that had happened.

"Looks like they're all dead or gone. Let's go too."

"What about Rhodes?"

"...He's dead."

The children immediately fell silent.

In their memories, Rhodes, though foul-mouthed and lecherous despite his youth, always managed to draw the guards' attention when they were being beaten.

That was why, over the years, he had been beaten the most, and one of his legs had become crippled as a result.

That was also why he had charged in without a word earlier.

He knew he couldn't escape.

Even though they had seen too much bloodshed and separation over the years, growing somewhat numb to it, they felt an indescribable emotion at this moment.

They had all survived, all except for Rhodes, who fell before the dawn.

They didn't know whether this brief dawn would be followed by an endless, lightless night.

But right now, all they could do was band together and press onward.

A group of unusually silent children immediately followed the exceptionally large trail of blood.

They didn't know how Redscale's small body could contain so much blood.

The naive children wondered, Maybe this is the power of the Blood Demon?

Shortly after they left the destroyed ranch, in the basement filled with the stench of blood, the mangled flesh and thick blood on the floor seemed to come alive, flowing towards the same direction.

Rhodes's body lay in the slightly cleaner cell. The children, unable to move him from the basement for a decent burial, had placed him on the straw mat where he usually slept, near the cell door.

But very soon, as these tendrils of flesh and blood burrowed into him, the noticeably swollen Rhodes suddenly opened his eyes; his once clear, bright eyes were now a dead, ashen gray.

'Rhodes' licked his purple tongue and touched his rapidly healing neck, muttering hoarsely to himself, "Lucky me. A complete amateur, a Magician novice, actually succeeded in summoning me, Lord Gutemund. Now, state your wish. Before I enjoy your soul, I'll make sure you experience what true despair feels like..."

No sooner had he finished his well-thought-out line than his eyes widened.

"Eh? Where's the soul? Damn it, did some other Demon get here first?"

Looking again at the corpses that appeared to have been ravaged by some brute Monster only strengthened his assumption.

The 'summoner' has already been dealt with by one of my competitors; even the soul has been torn to shreds. What a waste.

For this, the Demon Gutemund felt extremely frustrated and displeased.

The chance of an incomplete ritual like this, lacking a true name or title, being sensed by the Demons of the Abyssal Depths was as likely as winning the lottery in some world.

The Abyssal Demons were numerous; the fate of many was to serve as cannon fodder on various battlefields before they could mature.

Actually sensing a call from the material world was a rare opportunity for any Demon, a chance to recklessly harvest souls, grow stronger, and essentially 'strike it rich'.

But now, this once-in-a-lifetime chance—snatched by a competitor! How could I tolerate this?! Even more unbearable, that scoundrel had the audacity to shamelessly leave traces of their actions. This is a blatant provocation!

And as for that other Demon easily slaughtering a group of humans? For a Demon of my caliber, unlike those lowly underlings, wouldn't that be child's play? After all, common, crude weapons from the material world couldn't harm Demons in the slightest, and many Demons, myself included, possessed extraordinary resistance to various magical energies.

Even if they were unlucky enough to encounter a powerful being and were killed in battle, their physical forms would immediately disintegrate into filthy sludge, and their bodies would be instantly reshaped in the Abyss, reborn with the same essence and mind as before. The hatred and chaos in their hearts would only grow stronger. This was—

[Eternal Malice]!

Because of this nearly invincible characteristic in the material world, Demons were fearless, always searching for Teleportation Gates or space-time rifts to other planes.

Given the chance, they would attempt to leave the Abyssal Depths to spread chaos and darkness to other planes, ultimately seeking to contaminate the entire Multiverse.

They would destroy all creations of the gods, reduce civilizations to ashes, and fill the Multiverse with Despair and ruins.

But before Gutemund could achieve this grand ambition, he first had to eliminate this vile competitor!

"You there! Get back to the Abyssal Depths and gnaw on some cowardly demon's backside! This sub-material plane shall be conquered by me, Lord Gutemund!!!"

After shouting this slogan in a mixture of Common and Demonic tongues, two pustules swiftly bulged on 'Rhodes's' emaciated back. Two blood-stained demonic wings unfurled, and he shot off in pursuit of 'David', who had also arrived in Central Earth of the New Continent through possession.