Devouring Dragon Heir-Chapter 45: Ch Weaving truth through lies

In the outskirts of the vast capital city, beyond the sprawling urban development and the last remnants of suburban housing, lay a grim forest.

Its trees were thick, ancient, and twisted, their branches interlocking to form a dense, oppressive canopy that blocked out much of the sunlight, casting the ground in perpetual twilight.

This forest was not merely a collection of trees, it was known to house various magical beasts, some powerful enough to swallow a person whole, making it a dangerous and avoided area for ordinary citizens.

From the shadowed depths of this grim forest, a lone figure in black robes could be seen traveling. His movements were swift and practiced, despite the uneven terrain.

This was Karl.

He had been ejected from Klaus’s subspace just hours earlier, stripped of everything but the Death Tracker artifact that Klaus had deliberately left on him.

Klaus had meticulously given him his storage ring back, but only after emptying its contents.

All of Karl’s personal belongings, his weapons, his accumulated loot, and his emergency supplies, were gone.

Only the Death Tracker remained, a critical piece of evidence that had to be returned to the Head Priest.

Karl’s mind was a frantic whirlwind of fear and desperation right now.

"I can’t lie in front of that Head Priest,"

He muttered to himself, his voice dry and filled with fear

"He is a seer. He will know in seconds that I have lied. Shit, death is bound to come now, might as well try something"

The memory of Klaus’s ice realm, the endless torture, the methodical flaying and reassembly of his body, was burned into his mind.

It was a fate far worse than any death.

"But I can’t face another wave of agonizing torture," he whispered, his body trembling involuntarily at the memory.

He reached into a hidden pouch within his robes and took out a few small, nondescript pills.

One pill was for immediate numbing, designed to shut down his pain receptors in case he was attacked in the temple.

Another was a powerful painkiller, meant to dull any lingering sensation.

The last, a tiny, almost imperceptible capsule, contained a slow-acting poison, potent enough to ensure death within a few hours if an antidote is not taken,

but gentle enough not to cause immediate, violent reactions that might be detected.

His plan was desperate, a last gamble for his life.

He would try his best to manipulate the truth, to phrase his words in such a way that they would come out as technically true, even if the context was entirely misleading.

If he was successful, if the Head Priest believed his carefully constructed half-truths, he would simply eat the antidote he carried.

If, by chance, he failed, if the Priest saw through his deception and threatened him or even imprisoned him,

He would prefer dying swiftly and peacefully with the poison rather than enduring another wave of torture designed to extract information.

He wanted to die a peaceful death, to escape the shackles of this body, which, ironically, had never even awakened a latent talent of its own.

It was this very lack of innate ability that had forced him onto this demonic path, seeking power from the cult to overcome his inherent weakness.

He had been a pawn, first of his desperation, then of the cult, and now, of Klaus.

"Haha, I guess this is what they call karma," Karl chuckled.

He, in his lifetime as a cultist, had killed many innocent people, had participated in countless atrocities.

He had often rationalized his actions, telling himself that fate had given him no other choice, that the world was inherently brutal and unforgiving.

Living in peace was almost impossible, he had believed, until you were the strongest, until you could dictate terms.

Now, he was facing the consequences of that very philosophy.

He finally reached the entrance of a very well-hidden facility.

It was disguised as a derelict, abandoned warehouse, its exterior rusted and decaying, but a faint, almost imperceptible shimmer of dark mana indicated its true nature.

He entered directly, the cult’s internal guards, shadowy figures lurking in the dim light, not daring to stop him.

Here, within the cult’s sanctum, the identification was not a card or a password; it was the demonic aura itself that permeated every member.

Karl’s aura, tainted by years of dark rituals, was his pass.

Entering the facility, he navigated through a labyrinth of dark corridors and dimly lit chambers, the air growing heavier with the scent of incense and dried blood.

He directly went inside towards the main hall, a vast, cavernous space where the Blood Priest conducted his rituals.

Inside the hall, bathed in the eerie glow of flickering braziers, on a raised, circular platform made of polished red stone with shades of black, the Priest sat.

His form was cloaked in robes of deep crimson and obsidian, his face gaunt but powerful, etched with ancient lines.

He sat with his legs folded in a perfect lotus position, like a Buddhist monk, his eyes closed in deep meditation.

The aura of death and dark magic around him was palpable, thick enough to taste.

Karl directly entered the hall, his footsteps echoing softly on the stone floor.

He stopped a respectful distance from the platform.

"I have returned, sir," Karl said, his voice steady despite his internal turmoil.

He performed a specific gesture with his fingers, a complex series of movements used for greeting and showing respect within the cult.

The Priest’s skill, which included a passive ability to detect lies, registered no deception in Karl’s words at that moment.

After all, Karl had genuinely returned to the cult’s temple, and the Priest’s initial thought was simply that the mission was complete.

"Haha, good, good," the Priest said, his eyes still closed, his voice had a low tone and was filled with impatience.

"Give me the orb now."

Karl looked at him, a profound sigh escaping him, a sound of both exhaustion and the weight of his desperate gamble.

"Sir, I could not find the orb in that person’s possession."

This specific line, carefully chosen, also came true in the eyes of the Priest, confusing him.

The Priest’s eyes snapped open, revealing pupils that were entirely black, devoid of irises. His expression became grim, a flicker of suspicion crossing his features.

"You did not find the orb? Did you use the Death Tracker?" the Priest demanded, his voice hardening.

"Yes, sir, I did," Karl replied, his voice unwavering. This was also true. He had used the tracker, and it had led him to Klaus.

The Head Priest’s expression became even more grim, a deep frown carving lines into his gaunt face.

"Who was that person? The one who killed Ghost and was traced by the tracker?"

"I did not know, sir," Karl stated. This was also true. Klaus had never revealed his name.

"Did you deal with him?" the Priest asked, his voice low, probing.

"Yes, sir," Karl replied. This was also true. He had indeed made a deal with Klaus: information in exchange for his freedom from torture.

The context in which the Priest had asked was entirely different from Karl’s truth.

The Priest had meant, "Did you kill him?" Karl’s answers, however, were true to his experience.

He had dealt with Klaus, just not in the way the Priest assumed.

Karl had a sudden, profound enlightenment about the Priest’s ability.

There were loopholes in it.

It detected literal truth, not contextual truth or intent. It was a powerful skill, but not infallible.

The Priest, right now, did not find anything strange in Karl’s responses, only a frustrating lack of information about the orb.

"Hmm," the Priest hummed, his black eyes studying Karl for a moment longer, searching for any subtle tells, but finding none that contradicted Karl’s words.

"You can go."

"I’ll take my leave, sir," Karl said, bowing slightly, and turned around to leave the hall, his heart pounding with a mixture of relief and disbelief.

He had survived.

Once he was out of the hall, the Head Priest, still seated on his platform, called out into the silent air. "Beta!"

Soon, a person, or rather, a shadow that coalesced into a humanoid form, emerged from the deepest shadows in front of the Priest.

This figure was cloaked entirely in darkness, its features indistinguishable, its presence barely a ripple in the air.

The Priest only said one sentence, his voice low and commanding.

"Keep an eye on him. Report any unusual activity, any deviation from his usual patterns."

As soon as the words were spoken, Beta, the shadow figure, simply nodded, a barely perceptible movement, and then dissolved back into the shadows, disappearing as swiftly and silently as it had appeared.

The Priest, meanwhile, sat back on the platform, a deep sigh escaping him.

He had more pressing matters than Karl’s ambiguous report.

This all started when he had recently seen a terrifying vision.

The Demon God itself had directly addressed him and told him about a specific orb located in a certain ruin on Earth.

This orb, the Demon God had revealed, possessed immense power.

If he managed to acquire it and sacrifice the orb to the Demon God, it would accelerate the ascent of the demon race by another decade, pushing their conquest of the mortal realms far ahead of schedule.

This was a mission of paramount importance, directly from his deity.

The Priest now went into deep meditation, attempting to see another vision, specifically about that orb.

He had avoided doing so earlier, despite the Demon God’s command, because the orb was special, and the more powerful the target the more difficult the divination gets.

He did not want to take risks with such a crucial artifact.

But now he had no choice.

Karl’s failure to retrieve it meant he had to act directly.

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