Dracotitán

"It's for the best," Kaslana stood up, "As for the group of green dragons in your hands who refuse to submit to you, I've already requested a ransom from the Mother of Emerald, Ysera, in my grandfather's name. We should get a response by tomorrow, at the latest the day after."

"Already?" Muria was taken aback.

"Yes, I sent someone to deliver the message right after I returned from the Kingdom of Bavaria," Kaslana replied, a faint smile on her face. "Right now, Ysera is preoccupied with the imminent collapse of the Kingdom of Bavaria. She's only thinking about gathering forces to swoop in for a share after the Necromantic Council retreats.

She probably doesn't have the energy to focus on the dozen dragons you've turned against her, let alone come after you. So, now is the perfect time to ask her for a ransom."

"The kingdom on the brink of extinction..." Muria murmured, falling silent as Kaslana's words echoed in his mind. He remembered the ordinary humans struggling desperately in the undead catastrophe.

Since the ancient dragons' target was only Brent, after successfully capturing and sealing him, they simply retreated without any intention of playing the role of heroes.

The Necromantic Council's strategy to destroy a kingdom every century isn't easily thwarted. One must be prepared to go to war against them. And neither the ancient dragons, the Dragon King, nor Bahamut, who is known as the God of Good Dragons, would go to war for a human kingdom.

They are kings and gods of the dragon race, not of the human race.

"Big sister Kaslana, how are the thirty thousand humans I saved doing now?" After a moment of silence, Muria stood up, walked to the crystal window, and looked down at the city below, his voice tinged with a hint of somberness.

"They're still being settled," Kaslana joined Muria by the window, "It won't be long before everyone is properly accommodated. They will live a worry-free life in my territory."

"Good!" Muria nodded.

"What's wrong? Are you feeling sad for those humans?"

"What about the humans in the Kingdom of Bavaria? Are they just waiting to die? Isn't there anyone to save them?" Muria whispered softly, his eyes reflecting an inexplicable sorrow that Kaslana couldn't understand.

"Most will turn into undead in the catastrophe, and only a very few will survive," Kaslana said, seemingly recalling something, admiration in her eyes.

"Not all human forces have abandoned the Kingdom of Bavaria. There are still humans who will go to their aid."

"Who?"

Kaslana did not answer but closed her eyes slightly. Beneath her, runes lit up silently. Muria watched the scene quietly, sensing that Kaslana was using the mage tower to tune into something.

"It's not bad, I have such humans in my city." Before long, Kaslana opened her eyes and turned to Muria with a somewhat cryptic remark.

"Come on, let me show you!" Seeing Muria's puzzled expression, Kaslana took his hand and opened a teleportation portal.

...

In the central area of Bologna, a magnificent building stood out among the bustling structures around it. Its flow of people was sparse compared to its neighbors, but the inscription above its main entrance, written in the common tongue, read— "Teleportation Hall".

This was a high-level public facility rarely seen in ordinary cities. Though few in number, each person entering or exiting the hall drew curious, awe-filled, and sometimes envious gazes from passersby.

Those who could use the teleportation array were either powerful professionals or wealthy merchants. To ordinary people, anyone capable of using the teleportation array was a person of great importance.

At that moment, under the curious gazes of bystanders, a middle-aged man in armor, with a longsword at his waist and a scruffy beard, approached the Teleportation Hall. After glancing at the inscription, he strode inside.

"Tch, look at that guy who just went into the Teleportation Hall. His armor is so clean, it must be well-maintained, but it's still all beat up. That kind of guy must be broke, a real pauper. I wonder who gave him the guts to walk into the Teleportation Hall."

Upon seeing the shabbily-dressed middle-aged man enter the building, a loafer commented mockingly.

However, before he could finish, a strong force sent him sprawling forward, rolling on the ground.

"Hisss!" The loafer sucked in a breath of cold air as he got up, turning angrily to glare at the burly man who had kicked him. "Are you crazy? What have I done to you?"

The burly man's face darkened, and without a word, he rushed forward and slapped the loafer across the face. A tooth, stained with blood, flew out of the loafer's mouth. The force of the blow spun him around and he fell to the ground, his gaze inadvertently fixed on the entrance of the Teleportation Hall.

He saw the shabbily-dressed warrior walk into the hall, and as he entered, those well-dressed, shining-armored "important people" inside all stepped aside with expressions of awe.

"Who is that guy?" The loafer wondered, baffled.

"You think you can insult a holy warrior of Tyr?" A voice yelled at him as he felt a tremendous force hit his chest.

So that's why! The force of the impact sent the loafer into unconsciousness. As he blacked out, he finally understood why he had been beaten. Faintly, he heard shouts of "serves you right"...

"Respected holy warrior, which teleportation array would you like to use? Where are you headed?" As the ragged-looking middle-aged warrior entered the Teleportation Hall, an employee, recognizing the scales of justice over a blue shield on his armor, immediately approached him.

"Long-distance teleportation," the holy warrior replied without hesitation, "Destination: Bucharest."

Upon hearing the holy warrior's words, more than half of the people in the hall turned to look at him—the news of the Kingdom of Bavaria being targeted by the Necromantic Council had spread throughout the continent of Aeonian.

"I'm sorry, sir, but Bucharest has been out of contact for five days; we can't teleport you there," the young employee replied respectfully.

"Can you teleport me to the Patrick Fortress in the Kingdom of Obb, then?"

"Yes." The employee's gaze towards the holy warrior grew even more respectful. The Kingdom of Obb was Bavaria's neighbor, and Patrick Fortress was located on the border between the two countries.

"How much will it cost?"

"Due to the distance, it's quite expensive. It will require 500 units of elemental crystals or fifty thousand gold coins."

"Half a crystal." The middle-aged holy warrior frowned; he didn't have that much money.

"Sir, what do you plan to do there?"

"Save people."

"In that case, I can waive fifty units of the fee for you," the young employee said, determined to use his own savings to cover part of the warrior's costs.

"No need for that." The weathered middle-aged warrior smiled, "I've slain some evil creatures and got some loot. Can I pawn some of it here to cover part of the teleportation fee?"

"Yes."

Several ogre heads, a pile of vampire fangs, a dozen blood-stained animal hides, and a few miscellaneous gems... The holy warrior started pulling out various items he had obtained from the evil creatures he had slain.

The stench of blood filled the Teleportation Hall, drawing more employees and adventurers and merchants to the scene.

"It's not worth fifty thousand gold," the holy warrior sighed, looking at the items scattered on the ground. He began to take off his armor, piece by piece.

"Sir, what are you doing?" The employee asked, his eyes reddening at the sight of the holy warrior stripping off his armor.

"This armor is forged from fine steel and mixed with some low-grade supernatural metals, and it has been blessed by the archbishop. It's a bit damaged but should be worth something."

"Cough, warrior, are you selling these trophies?" A corpulent merchant, looking pained, approached the holy warrior, eyed the ugly ogre heads, and suppressing his urge to vomit, asked, "I find these ogre heads quite ferocious... Ah, I mean, they would make fine decorations for my home. Alright, I'll give you five thousand gold coins for each ogre head, deal?"

"Five thousand per head! That's too much," the holy warrior shook his head.

"I think it's worth it." The plump merchant flashed his white teeth, throwing a bag of crystals into the warrior's arms, then had his servants pick up all five ogre heads and left the hall without giving the warrior a chance to respond.

Watching the merchant's retreating figure, others in the hall began to move.

"Warrior, these vampire fangs are quite white, a thousand gold each, I'll take them!"

"This hide is pretty intact, definitely worth at least five hundred gold."

...Following the merchant's lead, several businessmen and adventurers in the hall began to buy the holy warrior's trophies at prices ten times their actual value.

In an instant, the holy warrior found himself with several thousand gold coins and over six hundred units of elemental crystals, and all the items he brought were snapped up.

"Thank you!" The middle-aged holy warrior gripped his sword, bowed to each merchant and adventurer who had taken his trophies in almost a forced sale, expressing his gratitude.

"Sir, you have enough for the teleportation fee now, please put your armor back on," the young employee reminded him, as the only item the holy warrior hadn't sold was his most valuable armor.

"Alright."

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