Devouring Dragon Heir

Inside the great hall of Riverdale's castle, Queen Andrea sat upon her throne.

Her golden hair was tangled and loose, her dress torn from the long night she had spent without rest.

Her eyes, once filled with bright hope, now carried the exhaustion of a queen who had seen her kingdom stand on the edge of destruction and then pulled back at the very last breath.

General Caesar stood beside her. His armor was unpolished and dented, his sword still carried cracks, and his shoulders slumped with fatigue.

Yet his eyes remained alert, watching everything, every shadow, every corner, as if he still could not accept that the battle was truly over.

The heavy doors opened with a groan.

Into the hall stepped the Necrolord.

His figure emitted a death aura. His body was made of bones, and his skull was crowned with a circlet of blackened metal, his frame draped in robes that fluttered though no wind was present.

His scythe, taller than any man in the hall, tapped against the stone floor as he walked. Each step echoed like a heartbeat in the silence, and with each step the air grew colder, the shadows darker, and the hearts of the guards stiffer.

Behind him marched the nine deathly figures, the pseudo-transcendent in Klaus's legion. They did not speak. They did not breathe.

Their forms radiated an aura of death and destruction, the kind of aura that crushed hope from the chest of any normal soldier who dared to look at them.

The queen tried to stand tall. She tried to keep her pride, but her knees trembled without her permission.

Necrolord stopped before her throne. He did not bow, he did not kneel, and he did not show the smallest gesture of respect.

Instead, his empty sockets glowed faintly with pale fire, and when he spoke, his voice carried like a thunderclap.

"Queen Andrea of Riverdale," he said slowly, each word stretched like the toll of a bell.

"The kingdom for now doesn't need you; until the mission is completed, you won't be sitting on the throne. The day my lord decides that his goals in this world are accomplished, he will leave you the complete territory to rule.

Till then the sovereign has entrusted me with his authority to govern this land in his absence. From this day onward, Riverdale will not walk the path of despair, for it shall rise as the first foundation of my lord's eternal reign."

The hall was silent.

The queen's hands clenched upon her throne's armrests. Her lips trembled, but she forced herself to speak. "Riverdale… belongs to its people. I… I will not abandon my duty as queen."

Necrolord tilted his head slightly, the bones creaking. "Your duty is not removed. It is… shifted. My lord has not asked for your crown to be broken. He has asked only that you rest your spirit and your body, for what is coming will demand more than what mortal rulers can bear."

General Caesar stepped forward, his voice harsh. "And what of the army? What of our laws? What of our sovereignty?"

Necrolord lifted his scythe slowly.

The nine terrifying figures behind him also released their auras.

The hall darkened as if clouds had rolled in, though no window was open. His aura poured out like a storm of despair, pressing down upon everyone present.

Guards dropped to their knees. Servants gasped for air. Andrea's breath also hitched.

"This," Necrolord whispered, "is sovereignty."

The aura grew heavier, and in that suffocating storm, every man and woman in the hall could feel the truth.

The words of the messenger this time were not to be questioned in any way.

Today his words were absolute. They knew that a single thought from him, a single will of his, could shape the fate of countless cities, of armies, of nations, and especially of Riverdale.

And Necrolord, who was his shadow, exuded the same dread over them just as his master did.

The aura was released, and those who had collapsed gasped desperately as though pulled from drowning. Necrolord lowered his scythe and stood in silence.

"Rest, Queen Andrea. Rest, General Caesar. The affairs of the kingdom will be handled by my hand.

The prisons of Riverdale will soon be filled with your enemies.

The new armies will be reforged under my lord's command. This kingdom will grow into an empire not by mortal strength, but by the fear and awe of my lord's name.

This is not the end of Riverdale. It is the beginning of something greater. Now… obey, or else I can use other methods to make you comply."

Andrea closed her eyes. Her heart screamed with resistance, but her soul whispered the truth. She had seen Klaus. She had seen what he had done to those who stood against him. To resist was to invite destruction. Slowly, with a trembling voice, she said, "Then… I shall rest."

General Caesar hesitated, his fists clenched. But when he looked at the nine armored husks behind the Necrolord, and when he remembered the moment the Duke fell, his defiance drained from him.

He also bowed his head and muttered, "As you command."

Necrolord nodded once. "Wise choice."

From that day, Riverdale shifted.

Necrolord moved like a storm across its systems.

He summoned all officials, all officers, all commanders, and all concerned merchants. He demanded reports, demanded obedience, and demanded oaths.

Those who didn't comply or resisted too long were dragged into the square and cut down, their bodies turned into new soldiers of death.

Somewhere in him, Klaus could have spared these people, but as the servant of his lord, the necrolord didn't care about mortal lives; his only goal was to serve his lord and give the best results.

Necrolord's methods were cruel, and looking at what he was doing, Andrea and Caesar could only lament the previous king now for being overambitious and asking for too much.

They hadn't expected the messenger to be this crazy about his mission; now they were paying the repercussions for the previous king's greed.

The nine pseudo-transcendent ensured complete control, and their presence alone was enough to keep even the most stubborn people silent.

But Necrolord did not rule only with fear. He also ruled with awe.

Each night he used the influence of many government officials and other sources to spread word about Klaus being a god and how only due to him every Riverdale citizen was alive, he was literally brainwashing the masses, framing the previous kings as incompetent.

The subtle rumors and narratives soon got their place in the societies, and the public support for the messenger increased significantly.

The people now believed that they were under the protection of a being greater than any empire or transcendent.

Children whispered stories of the messenger who carried their nightmares away.

Cults began forming, and priests bent their heads lower, rewriting their prayers to mention Klaus's name as the sovereign.

Farmers, who had once feared raiders and bandits, now slept knowing that none dared approach them under the guard of the messenger.

True strength, as Necrolord knew, was not only about crushing any resistance against you. It was also about planting belief, forcing the soul of the people to grow in one direction towards worship of a belief that helped your cause.

And right now he was earning for Klaus the title of god.

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