Ch. 35
Chapter 35: Return
The setting sun, red as blood, dyed the Wailing Wastes a tragic dark crimson.
Atop the north gate watchtower of the City of Miracles, the sentry on watch, Harvey, rubbed his dry eyes, almost believing the harsh western wind had caused him to hallucinate.
He stared fixedly at the two black dots appearing on the horizon, his heart beginning to pound uncontrollably.
“Quick! Blow the horn! The lord… the lord has returned!”
The sharp blast of the horn tore through the sky. The heavy city gate, pushed by the combined strength of ten soldiers, let out a pained groan.
All the resting soldiers and the territorial subjects laboring hard at tamping earth stopped their work and surged toward the gate, their faces written with tension and anticipation.
The black dots continuously enlarged in their vision, and the scene became increasingly shocking.
Walking at the front was Lord Caesar.
He still sat upright upon his horse's back, his posture straight as a solitary pine on a cliff, his expression so calm it seemed he had merely taken an afternoon stroll.
He held the reins in one hand. Another empty-saddled warhorse followed quietly at his side, its back laden with heavy packs and weapons.
The true impact came from behind him.
Roland was declaring their spoils of war in a manner filled with violent beauty.
His towering frame was like a moving iron mountain, bronze-colored muscles bulging, veins protruding on his forehead.
Two excessively thick custom cables looped over his shoulders, connecting to a headless corpse as massive as a small mountain.
That was the Crag Lizard's body.
Each of Roland's steps left a deep footprint in the ground, and the lizard corpse he dragged behind plowed a wide and bloody furrow.
Mud, gravel, and congealed blood clots churned upward like an ugly scar carved into the earth.
In his other hand, Roland carried the lizard's head, larger than a water barrel, its broken horn and completely pierced eye socket silently narrating the brutality of battle.
When this bizarre yet shocking procession finally reached the city gate, they were greeted by utter silence.
Everyone was struck speechless by the surreal scene before them.
The visual impact of that mountain-like corpse, the thick blood stench nauseating enough to make one retch, and the exhaustion and killing aura emanating from Roland all made these territorial subjects struggling on the edge of life and death feel wave after wave of heart palpitations.
“Heaven… Heavenly Father above…”
An old soldier muttered, his spear clattering to the ground.
“That's a Crag Lizard… I heard mercenaries bragging that its charge could collapse city walls!”
After a brief silence, someone was the first to react, releasing a roar mixed with wild joy and disbelief.
“Lord Caesar is mighty!”
This roar seemed to ignite a powder keg.
“ROAR!”
Cheers like a volcanic eruption surged skyward, instantly drowning out the wind across the wastes.
People surged forward madly, but stopped several meters from Caesar, gazing at him with awe.
Caesar dismounted, his movement clean and efficient. His gaze calmly swept across faces twisted with excitement.
He saw no worship, only hunger.
That was not reverence for a deity, but the most primitive, most naked desire for that mountain of meat.
Good. Caesar's heart remained completely unmoved as he calmly made his judgment.
Divinity cannot earn loyalty, but meat can.
At least for now.
“Drag the carcass to the slaughter yard.”
His voice was not loud, yet it clearly penetrated all the cheering, entering everyone's ears.
“Barrett.”
“Here, my lord!”
The one-eyed Barrett tumbled out of the crowd, kneeling on one knee, his voice hoarse with excitement.
“You will lead the processing.”
Caesar's orders were concise and efficient.
“Carefully remove the scales and claws. Send them to the craftsmen's district.”
“The bones as well. Have the smiths see what they can be used for.”
He paused, his gaze sweeping across those territorial subjects whose eyes burned with greedy flames, speaking word by word.
“As for the flesh and blood… tonight, the entire city feasts!”
“Everyone who has contributed to this city, regardless of gender or age, will receive a large bowl of meat soup! All Black Dragon Guard soldiers, double portions!”
If the previous cheering had merely been the release of shock, then at this moment, the entire city fell completely into a carnival named “survival.”
“Long live Lord Caesar!”
“Long live!”
In the crowd, someone began to kneel, perhaps from awe, but more because of the promise of that bowl of meat soup.
Immediately after, a second, a third… In moments, everyone near the city gate spontaneously knelt down, using the most simple method to thank this strong man who could bring them food.
Caesar said nothing more, but strode directly through the fervent calls toward that newly completed crude two-story stone-and-timber building—his current lord's manor.
He needed to immediately address a more troublesome problem.
His consciousness sank into the system space. A tyrannical, domineering hunger instantly swept over his spirit like a tsunami.
This intent was so pure, so intense, that Caesar's temples began to throb.
【Hungry… so hungry… want to eat… something good…】
In a corner of the space, that black Little Eastern he had named Nero had already grown to over a meter long in just half a day's time, and was now anxiously scratching at the ground with its claws.
It sensed Caesar's will descending and immediately stumbled over, rubbing its head forcefully against his will's projection, the transmitted hunger nearly devouring Caesar's rationality.
“Be quiet.”
Caesar coldly transmitted a thought, simultaneously tossing over a pig leg from within the system space.
Nero swallowed the pig leg in one gulp, a satisfied gurgling sound emerging from its throat, but that bottomless pit of hunger only weakened slightly, still stubbornly entrenched in Caesar's mind.
Caesar's consciousness withdrew, his eyes growing more profound.
The cost of raising a dragon was far more terrifying than he had imagined.
It seemed the scale and frequency of hunts must be immediately expanded.
Night fell. Outside the lord's manor on the plaza, massive bonfires burned fiercely. In pot after pot, thick meat soup boiled, its aroma dominating as it drove away the wastes' chill.
The territorial subjects held their earthen bowls, their faces overflowing with long-absent happiness.
This was a night belonging to victors and survivors.
And on the second floor of the lord's manor, lights blazed bright.
Caesar sat alone by the window, overlooking the revelrous crowd below. His expression held not a trace of joy, only a calm so extreme it was indifferent.
This feast was an investment he had carefully calculated.
Using one magical beast's flesh and blood to exchange for the entire territory's elevated morale, improved labor productivity, and… the initial establishment of his personal authority.
He knew this was still far from enough.
He stood, speaking to the guard standing at attention outside the door.
“Go. Summon Roland and Barrett.”