Devouring Dragon Heir

Klaus stood silently in the sanctuary for a while after naming Thunder Lord. His mind was calm, but the weight of everything around him still pressed heavy.

The Duke, now reborn as Thunder lord, was his weapon. Another powerful piece on his chessboard.

Klaus proceeded to visit the open grounds where his legion was stationed. He flew into the sky and scanned the ground below him; his eyes scanned the scene below. Thousands of figures filled the grounds and open fields.

His legion had now been expanded.

What once had been a force of about twenty-five thousand had grown. The number now neared thirty-six thousand. The change was clear.

His army was no longer just monsters and demons; there were humans in the army as well. Although every being in his legion was connected by death energy, the contrast between appearances was still apparent.

There were humans, former soldiers of the Falcon Empire under the command of Albretch, who had earlier died by his hands.

There were demons that he had defeated just after coming to Star Land, and, of course, there were the monsters, summoned by him.

The army consisted of different shapes and different origins but was now one force.

And they all fought for the same cause. His cause.

Klaus's sharp eyes studied their drills. Human soldiers trained beside demons, while monsters stood in formation.

Necrolord had organized them well. Squads and battalions were arranged in such a way that they could complement each other in battle.

Discipline echoed across the grounds, as the army personnel, though not completely intelligent, still had enough sentience to understand commands.

Even the monsters, who once moved only by instinct, followed orders now.

Klaus gave a small nod. It was a good arrangement. He also counted the rank-wise count; the army consisted of about 1000 SS ranks, 5000 S ranks, 15000 A ranks, and the rest below.

He noted the need to find a way to increase the strength of his summons and then decided to call it a day in his subspace.

He turned and appeared outside, heading towards the administrative room deeper into the palace.

The air grew colder as he descended into the underground hall.

This was the command center where the Necrolord often worked. Maps stretched across the stone tables, pins marking cities, borders, and paths. Magic crystals shone brightly on the walls, their light casting long shadows.

The soldiers and attendants in the corridor froze as he walked past.

None dared to speak. They bowed their heads, their eyes lowered, waiting until his shadow had passed before daring to breathe again.

The Necrolord was there, standing in front of the map. His skeletal frame was wrapped in his usual cloak, his empty eyes glowing faintly with blue light. Several human lieutenants as well as death monsters stood near him; low murmuring voices could be heard near him.

As Klaus entered, everyone fell silent. The Necrolord turned.

"My lord," he said, bowing slightly. His voice was calm, neither loud nor weak, but filled with respect.

Klaus walked closer, his eyes moving over the map. "You are preparing an attack?" he asked.

"Yes," Necrolord replied.

"There is a small kingdom to the east. Their borders are weak. Their king relies on mercenaries, not a disciplined army. If we strike swiftly, we can secure their resources and territory. It will help us get an initial momentum."

Klaus looked at him and nodded, then back at the map.

He understood what the necrolord wanted. Expansion was necessary for this kingdom to grow now, and it will also aid in completing his mission.

The Falcon Empire would not remain idle forever. Other similar-sized or bigger kingdoms would also test Riverdale's strength. Taking a smaller kingdom now was not only for resources but also to give a message and also a morale boost to its own army.

"Very well," Klaus said finally. "Take Thunder lord with you."

The Necrolord tilted his head slightly, though his face never changed. "Thunder lord?"

A shadow shifted at the far side of the hall. Thunder Lord stepped forward.

His tall figure, skin blackened with cracks and blue lightning veins, moved with power. His eyes glowed sapphire, sharp and steady. He nodded his head slightly towards Necrolord.

"I will assist you," he said in his heavy voice.

"But, my lord, bringing a transcendent to crush a small kingdom will be an overkill," the necrolord reasoned.

Klaus nodded calmly and simply replied, "There might be a reason we are not aware of that has kept that small kingdom standing till now; otherwise, that small kingdom might have already been preyed upon by other kingdoms, so I would advise you to not underestimate the enemy no matter how weak it is."

On Klaus's explanation, the necrolord was silent, but his eyes showed an expression of realization.

Necrolord then gave a short nod towards Thunder Lord. "Then the army will march under both of us."

Klaus folded his arms. "Good. This will be a good test for both of you."

"Yes, my lord," Necrolord answered.

Klaus turned away, walking back towards the entrance. "Ok, continue with your preparations. You will leave at dawn tomorrow."

That night, the fortress was alive with movement. Soldiers gathered supplies. Weapons were checked and sharpened.

In this attack Klaus's personal army was not joining; instead, the small army of Riverdale plus some captured falcon soldiers was. After all, he was not some sort of god who would just spoon-feed the Riverdale kingdom's ambitions. The soldiers were fewer, but they still numbered a few thousand.

The ground shook as thousands prepared to march.

Klaus stood on a balcony, watching everything. His face remained calm. He looked at the small army; compared to empires, it was still a fraction. He needed more victories to grow. Victories to grow the army, territory, and resources.

Below, Necrolord and Thunder Lord moved between the ranks, their presence alone enough to keep discipline.

Thunder Lord stood by the side, tall and powerful; soldiers glanced at him with awe and fear.

They all knew who he had been: the Duke of Falcon. To see him now, serving Klaus, erased any doubt about where true power rested.

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The gates of Riverdale opened. Thousands marched out. Their steps shook the earth.

Banners with Klaus's symbol, black and gold with the mark of a dragon's eye, rose above them. The sky itself seemed heavy as the army moved.

Klaus did not march with them. He remained in the fortress, seated in his room. He had no need to go.

His subordinates would test themselves. His army would grow stronger. And even if they failed, he still had the power to rebuild.

But he did not expect failure. Not with Necrolord and Thunder lord together.

The march lasted a day. The soldiers moved like a tide across the land, eating, drinking, and training along the way.

Villages fled before them. Scouts spread out, catching any spies or messengers that might warn the enemy.

Inside the command tent each night, Necrolord and Thunderlord discussed strategy.

Necrolord was precise, cold, and focused on efficiency. Thunder lord, however, carried a warrior's pride.

He understood battle on the field, the flow of violence, and the terror of thunder. Their approaches were different, but strangely, they balanced one another.

When they reached the border of the small kingdom, scouts returned with reports. The enemy king had gathered fifteen thousand soldiers. Mostly mercenaries, paid blades with no loyalty beyond coin.

Necrolord studied the map. "They will break if pressed hard. But they may fight desperately for pay. We will strike their supply lines first, then crush their center."

Thunder Lord shook his head. "No. Strike their heart directly. Show them fear. Mercenaries do not fight long when terror eats them."

They looked at each other for a moment. Necrolord's glowing eyes, Thunder lord's lightning gaze. Different strategies, same goal.

In the end, Necrolord nodded slowly. "Very well. We will strike the heart. But when the terror breaks between the enemy then, we will pursue without pause.

The stronger will be killed and given to the lord, while the rest will be captured as prisoners. After that, the nine pseudo-transcendent will bring the king's head, and we will take over the capital."

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The next day, the battle began.

Thunder lord stood at the front lines, lightning dancing across his arms. With a single motion, he raised his hand to the sky. Thunder roared. Bolts struck down, ripping apart enemy formations. Soldiers screamed and fled.

The Necrolord raised his staff. Death energy poured out, summoning walls of bone and waves of spectral blades. His undead monsters surged forward, tearing into the enemy ranks.

The Riverdale army followed, shouting with fury, cutting down all who stood before them.

The enemy's lines collapsed within hours. Two thousand turned to five hundred in a blink of an eye, then to three hundred before they started scattering.

Mercenaries dropped weapons and ran. Those who surrendered were chained. Those who resisted were slain. The battlefield turned red with blood.

By dusk, the small kingdom's army was no more. Its capital lay open.

Necrolord gave the order. The army marched again, straight to the city. Thunderlord led the charge, smashing the gates apart with thunder and steel.

The city fell within a day.