Devouring Dragon Heir

Beyond the kingdom of Riverdale, the world stirred with unease and disbelief.

The first to receive the news was the Falcon Empire itself.

Couriers on exhausted horses galloped through the wide stone gates of the imperial capital. They carried scrolls sealed with the marks of battlefield commanders, though many of those commanders were already dead.

The messengers' faces were pale, their voices hoarse from screaming the same unbelievable words again and again along the roads.

When the scrolls were brought to the golden hall of the imperial palace, the air grew heavy. The Emperor of Falcon sat on his throne, high above all others, draped in crimson robes that glittered with golden threads.

His sharp eyes moved across the lines of the message once, then twice, and then a third time.

"The Duke is dead," the scroll said.

The silence that followed was unbearable. Ministers exchanged nervous glances, generals shifted in their armor, and scholars of the court clutched their robes in fear of what the Emperor would do.

And then, suddenly, laughter erupted.

The emperor's loud, thundering laughter echoed through the palace, bouncing off the marble pillars and shaking the golden chandeliers.

It was not the laughter of a madman, but it was also not the laughter of joy. It was sharp, mocking, and terrifying. Many in the court thought for a moment that he had lost his mind to anger. Some whispered that grief for the fallen Duke had broken him.

But reality was far more complex.

-----------

Other kingdoms also stirred restlessly as the news spread like wildfire.

In the Lion heart Kingdom, Riverdale's neighbor to the west, bells rang throughout the royal capital as the king immediately called an emergency council.

Noble lords rushed into the marble chamber, voices raised and anxious. They debated whether Riverdale's strange savior, this so-called "messenger," was a blessing or a threat.

Some insisted they must ally with Riverdale quickly before the Falcon Empire struck back. Others argued that Riverdale was now marked for destruction and anyone who stood beside them would share the same fate.

Across the seas, in the Dominion of elves, spies were dispatched the very same night. Silent killers and shadowed agents slipped into Riverdale under cover of darkness.

The rulers of the elves wanted answers, Who was this messenger? Was he man, monster, or something worse? Could he be controlled or eliminated?

Farther south, the Golden Trade League held heated debates that lasted for hours.

Merchant princes and trade masters slammed their fists on long wooden tables, shouting about whether to cut all ties with Riverdale to avoid angering the Falcon Empire or whether to seize this chance to ally with Riverdale and gain favor with the mysterious messenger. Gold, after all, flowed to those who stood beside strength, not weakness.

And everywhere in the lands between, rumors spread faster than truth.

Some swore that the messenger was no man at all, but a demon wearing human skin. They whispered that he had bargained with dark gods to summon armies of the dead and that Riverdale was cursed for accepting his help.

Priests in remote temples gave sermons, warning that the messenger's power was unnatural and would bring ruin upon all who followed him.

Others claimed he was a god-sent savior, chosen by fate to bring balance against the cruelty of the empires.

They told stories of how he had sat upon a black throne in the middle of a battlefield, commanding monsters and slaying the transcendent Duke as if swatting down an insect.

To the desperate and the oppressed, Klaus was becoming a figure of hope. To the fearful, he was an omen of doom.

Every retelling twisted the truth. Some said he had torn the Duke apart with a single punch.

Others swore he had whispered a word and shattered the Duke's soul. A few insisted the Duke's body had been dragged into the underworld itself.

But whatever version people heard, all agreed on one thing: the balance of power across the continent had shifted.

For centuries, the empires and kingdoms had lived in the shadow of transcendents. These beings, few but immeasurably powerful, were the cornerstones of empires.

A transcendent's presence alone could deter invasions, crush rebellions, or bend rival states to submission. The Falcon Empire had grown vast because its transcendents stood unchallenged.

But now, in Riverdale, a single man who was not a transcendent had killed one of those transcendents.

The age of empires ruled by the threat of transcendents was trembling on the edge of change. The myth of their untouchable supremacy had been shattered.

------------

Inside the castle, Klaus had done nothing but sleep. He shut himself in one of the grand chambers, closed the curtains, and lay on a massive bed in between.

He slept as if the world outside did not exist.

The soldiers who passed by the corridor spoke in hushed tones, afraid that even the smallest noise might disturb him. Some thought he was planning something great. Some thought he was healing from wounds that no one else could see. In truth, Klaus was simply resting.

He had fought hard, and though his body was strong, the strain on his mind was far greater. All the cruelty he showed on the battlefield, all the death and the destruction it took something from him as well. To keep his mind steady, he needed a place where he could be still.

right now an internal conversation with the system was going on.

[Host, your current behavior does not match the optimal growth path. You are losing valuable time by sleeping.]

Klaus groaned, pulling a pillow over his head." Shut up. Do you see anyone around here strong enough to bother me? No? Then let me sleep."

[Rest is acceptable, but extended inactivity could lead to complacency.]

"Complacency?" Klaus yawned and rolled over. "I killed a transcendent. A transcendent. Do you know how rare that is? I deserve at least a week of good sleep for that."

[Your tone suggests excessive pride.]

Klaus chuckled. "It's not pride if it's true. I worked for it, didn't I? I bled, I fought, I crushed him with my own strength. That's not arrogance that's just facts."

[Facts acknowledged. But you should not neglect preparation for future threats, and also you used dragon's might which should be your last option ideally,

now you should prepare yourself to fight a transcendent for longer periods without breaking any bones.

Falcon Empire will not stay silent forever.]

"They can march here tomorrow for all I care," Klaus said, stretching his arms and sinking deeper into the mattress.

"I'll deal with them when they come. For now… I want to enjoy this bed. Honestly, I think it's the softest thing I've ever touched."

[host's priorities appear questionable.]

Klaus smirked lazily. "It's called balance. If I spend every second killing and fighting, I'll lose my edge. Rest is part of strength. Even dragons sleep, you know."

[… Your logic is oddly self-serving, but true dragons sleep very long although your bloodline is too pure to show those undesirable aspects]

"Of course it is. I'm me." Klaus let out a small laugh. "But listen, system, even a monster needs downtime. I know I am one of those maniacs who scream about power all day. But I want to feel refreshed when I fight next time"

The system was silent for a few seconds before responding.

[Acknowledged. Rest period will be tolerated. However, extended indulgence will trigger intervention protocols.]

Klaus raised an eyebrow. "Intervention protocols? What are you going to-do, tickle me until I get up?"

The system did not reply.

Klaus laughed again, louder this time. "Thought so. You're just like everyone else helpless when I decide I don't care."

Despite his mocking tone, there was a strange calm in his words.

He knew better than anyone how dangerous his life was, and how quickly enemies would rise against him. But in that quiet room, with the world outside still buzzing with rumors of his name, Klaus simply wanted to be still.

And so, for several days, he slept, ate, and slept again. His cruelty on the battlefield was gone here. In its place was a man who valued the simple act of rest more than any throne or crown.

Of course, if anyone had dared to disturb him, they might have discovered that the so-called humble Klaus still carried a subtle arrogance even in his rest.

After all, he had slain a transcendent and who could say they had done the same?