Dragon King: Throne of Demons and Gods-Chapter 36: Blood and Embers

The core's warm light pulsed in Bel's palm, an warmth cradled in his fingers.

His mind flickered through scattered knowledge, monster cores, the concentrated essence of their being, power sealed in stone, meant to be consumed by his kind.

The goblin shaman had wielded fire; its core would hold that same elemental color.

Lena skidded to his side, hands trembling as she pressed them against him, golden light spilling over his wounds.

His HP ticked up, painfully slow.

[HP: 82/482]

Too slow.

Ilya's ragged breathing filled the silence, her grip tightening on the broken weapon in her hands. The goblin behemoth was close, dragging itself forward, sniffing the air, its guttural growls reverberating through the chamber.

In a moment where everything seemed desperate, when the walls of the cavern closed in and the weight of death loomed over them, Bel moved.

His fingers clenched around the core.

And then he bit down.

The hardened shell cracked like brittle stone beneath his teeth, an eruption of heat bursting inside his mouth.

A surge of raw, unfiltered energy spilled onto his tongue, cascading down his throat like molten lava. The burning was instant, violent, spreading through him like wildfire.

Bel's back arched off the ground, his muscles seizing as agony wracked his body.

Lena gasped, her hands yanking away as his body spasmed.

Ilya turned at the sound of his strangled breath, her eyes widening in horror.

His skin blistered. His throat felt like it had been doused in burning embers, the sensation of fire consuming him from the inside out.

His cheeks felt as if they would split open, flesh melting, revealing something beneath, his row of teeth.

[WARNING: UNKNOWN SUBSTANCE DETECTED]

[FORCED INTEGRATION INITIATED]

A tremor ran through the cave. Then, the world erupted.

A shockwave of heat exploded outward, knocking Lena backward, sending Ilya staggering. The goblin behemoth flinched, halting its crawl, instinctively recoiling from the force surging from Bel's body.

Flames. Swirling, ravenous flames engulfed him, forming a vortex that crackled and twisted, pulling in the lingering embers from the cavern walls. The fire twisted around him, scorching the ground, the air trembling with its intensity.

His body trembled, shifting, breaking apart and reforming. Muscle fibers shredded and reconstructed, bones thickened, stretching, his limbs growing denser, more defined. His nails darkened, sharpened into talons, veins pulsing with molten energy beneath his skin. His ragged breath came out as embers, his golden irises burning into an eerie, glowing red.

[EVOLUTION SUCCESSFUL]

[TITLE UPDATED: Scorching Lindworm - increase fire control, potency, and resistance to all heat-based attack.] [RACE UPDATED: Greater Wyrmling → Lindworm] [TRAITS FUSED: Wyrm's Resilience, Wyrm's Perception, Wyrm's Frenzy → Final Wyrm]

The vortex of flames coiled tighter, compacting into his core, embedding within his very being. Then, with a final burst, the fire exploded outward.

And he stood.

A silhouette in the inferno.

Ilya's breath caught in her throat.

Lena, still on the ground, stared up, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly parted in sheer disbelief.

The cavern crackled with dying embers, shadows flickering across the stone walls. The energy in the air was suffocating, pressing against their lungs, their instincts screaming that something had changed, something fundamental.

Bel exhaled slowly, the breath rolling from his lips like smoke.

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[Draconic Evolution System]

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Name: Belzerion

Title: Lindworm of the Scorching Abyss

Race: Dragon

Class: Lindworm

Level: 31

EXP: 0/20,000

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Core Stats:

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HP: 152/700

MP: 250/250

Strength: 130

Toughness: 115

Intelligence: 85

Speed: 110

Agility: 113

Stamina: 120

Pressure: 30

Unassigned Stat Points: 10

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Draconic Core: 35%

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Unlocked Traits:

Final Wyrm: Grants extreme endurance, rapid recovery, heightened battlefield awareness. Bloodlust further amplifies physical attributes.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from fгeewebnovёl.co𝙢.

Goblinbane: 20% increased damage against goblins.

Fire Mastery: Fire-based attacks are more effective, resistant to heat damage, and capable of absorbing ambient flames to replenish stamina.

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Bel's body had changed.

His long dark hair were now streaked with white, the ends glowing faintly like embers smothered in ash. His skin, though still human in shape, bore the marks of something far beyond humanity.

Beneath the thin layer of flesh, his veins pulsed with molten fire, glowing like rivers of magma beneath the surface. His nails had blackened, sharpened slightly, and his golden eyes now carried a deeper intensity, red flickering at their core.

He raised two fingers toward Ilya, his movements slow.

"Move."

She flinched at his voice, something deeper, heavier than before. Without hesitation, she stepped away, putting distance between them.

Bel inhaled deeply, focusing inward.

The fire inside him wasn't just power. It wasn't an element he wielded like a weapon, it was an extension of his very being. He could feel it coursing through him, a second heartbeat, a presence that had always been waiting beneath the surface, now set free.

It was alive.

His understanding of magic had always been theoretical, study, observation, logic. But now, there was no need for theory. The fire moved when he willed it.

He extended his fingers, directing everything into that point of contact, shaping the flow of energy through sheer instinct.

And then, fire.

A blast of searing, golden flame erupted from his fingertips, expanding outward in a violent inferno.

The cavern ignited in its brilliance, shadows vanishing under the raw light. The goblin had no time to react, fire consumed it, swallowing its massive frame whole.

The sheer force propelled debris across the chamber, the heat blasting against the stone walls, searing the ground in its wake. The cave shook under the intensity, a raging wildfire spreading along the cracks and crevices of the cavern walls.

Bel exhaled sharply, cutting the blast.

He lifted his fingers.

Ashes and embers drifted lazily in the wake of destruction. The goblin was buried beneath a sea of flame, its grotesque body twitching amidst the wreckage.

But the fire had spread.

Lena's breath caught in her throat. She turned, eyes wide in horror. The walls, the floor, the air burned with the aftermath, and beyond it...

"The victims!" Lena's voice cracked, a mix of desperation and terror. "You.... the fire will...!"

Bel closed his eyes.

He inhaled, slow and steady, tuning out everything except the burning sensation within him. This power was his, it moved with him, breathed with him. He had released it, so he could control it.

He spread his arms.

The fire surged, but this time, it wasn't wild. It was guided.

A shift, a pulse of warmth radiating outward. The flames that had clung to the walls, creeping toward the captives, twisted, bending, pulled by an invisible force.

The blaze swirled, lifting off the surfaces it had claimed, converging into a single roaring mass, forming a vortex of fire that spiraled back toward him.

The heat drew in, like a great inhalation, before condensing, absorbed into Bel's form.

The walls were cleared, the flames receding, the captives untouched.

The goblin, however, remained. Still twitching.

Bel's eyes narrowed.

He lowered his arm, forming a loose grip as if holding something small. A marble, a flicker of embers coiled between his fingers.

Then, with a casual flick of his wrist, he threw it.

The ember sailed through the air, landing precisely upon the goblin's charred body.

A heartbeat later, it exploded.

A final, piercing scream tore through the cavern as the goblin was engulfed once more. The fire roared, consuming every last trace, its massive arm spasming, reaching, clawing, before falling still.

Silence.

A system screen blinked into Bel's vision.

[EXP : 3,600/20,000]

The last remnants of the inferno slowly died down. The acrid scent of charred flesh lingered in the air, thick and suffocating, yet the battle was over. The threat was gone.

Bel stood motionless, his chest rising and falling with deep, measured breaths. His eyes burned, reflecting the smoldering remains of the battle.

Behind him, Lena and Ilya stared at the scene, frozen in place, their bodies still caught in the remnants of their survival instincts.

Slowly, their shoulders relaxed. Their arms fell to their sides. The realization settled in.

It was over.

Lena almost collapsed on the spot. Relief flooded her system, her knees wobbling beneath her. A strangled breath escaped her lips, something between a laugh and a sob.

Her lips parted, and for a brief moment, she wanted to say it, to declare their victory. To tell them they had won.

But as her eyes lifted, her heart seized.

A memory. Renn's lifeless face, frozen in terror, his blood staining the cold ground. The moment of joy evaporated, leaving behind a hollow, sinking void in her chest.

Had they really won?

At what price?

Why did they have to come here in the first place?

The weight of their loss crushed down on her, leaving her stranded in a void of grief and confusion.

Meanwhile, Ilya remained transfixed on Bel. Her gaze, wide, tracing every detail of him, his new form, his stance, the raw, inhuman power radiating off him. Now she was forced to take notice of him, to acknowledge what he was.

Her eyes trailed downward, her breath suddenly shallow. Her body swayed. Weak. She almost fell, her balance slipping for a moment before she caught herself, gripping her own arm tightly.

Then she saw it.

Her body, battered, bruised, bare.

The realization hit her like a hammer to the chest. The memories, the shame, the filth she had been forced to endure, it was all still fresh, clinging to her like a second skin.

She trembled, her jaw tightening until her teeth ached. Her nails dug into her arm, deep enough to leave marks. But then, something caught her attention.

A flicker of movement to the side.

Her gaze shifted.

The baby goblins.

Her breath hitched, her pupils shrinking to pinpricks.

A step. Another. She moved toward them, her grip tightening on the broken stick in her hand.

Lena, lost in her own turmoil, barely noticed at first. But then, in the corner of her vision, she saw it, saw Ilya's movements, her slow, haunting advance.

She blinked in confusion, before dread set in.

"Ilya?" she called weakly, her voice fragile, uncertain.

Ilya didn't stop. Didn't even flinch. Her fingers clenched around the crude weapon, her knuckles turning white.

Lena forced herself to move, her feet dragging across the scorched earth.

"Ilya, wait..." Her voice cracked, pleading. "Please..."

Ilya's shoulders tensed, her teeth gritting audibly, but she never slowed.

Lena's breath came faster, desperation creeping into her tone. She took another step, forcing herself forward, her body weak.

"Ilya!" she begged.

Still nothing.

Bel finally spoke, his voice low, firm.

"Hurry up and heal the victims. They can die at any moment."

Lena flinched at the sudden command. She turned her gaze toward him, but he remained motionless, as if what he had said was simply obvious. Unquestionable.

Her lips trembled. She looked back at the women, their broken forms still hanging lifelessly. She clenched her fists, swallowing back the lump in her throat.

"Idiot... I'm really an idiot." she whispered to herself.

Then, as if repeating a mantra, she murmured again.

"The victims... the victims... the victims..."

She turned, moving toward them, until she stepped in front of them. At the same moment, Ilya stepped in front of the goblin nest.

Lena crouched beside the first woman, her hands trembling as she lifted them, golden light spilling from her fingertips.

Ilya raised the stick above her head.

Then...

A shriek.

A high-pitched, bone-chilling scream erupted from the nest.

The babies wailed, their tiny, clawed hands reaching up, eyes wide with terror as Ilya brought the stick down. Again. And again. And again.

"DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE!"

The blunt weapon struck with sickening crunches, too dull to kill instantly, too small to grant a quick death. Limbs flailed. Their cries grew louder, shriller, filling the cavern with an unbearable cacophony of pain and horror.

Lena squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her hands harder against the victim she was healing. She whispered her mantra under her breath, forcing herself to focus.

"The victims... the victims..."

The shrieks continued. The wet, ugly sounds of blunt force against flesh. The writhing, the struggling. The helpless flailing of things too weak to defend themselves.

Lena's breath hitched. Her hands shook.

"The victims... the victims..."

"DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE!"

Ilya's voice tore through the cavern, raw and hysterical, overlapping with the guttural cries of the goblin young.

And the screams wouldn't stop, they only grew louder, it was as if these babies were more attached to life than their parents, and as they screamed, Lena recoiled, her breath catching in her throat, forcing herself to keep healing, to drown out the horrors behind her.