Dracotitán

"Slap!" "Slap!"... The sound of faces being struck echoed, as teeth stained with blood flew from the mouths of over a dozen adventurers. In just an instant, the rude adventurers were all flung away by Fiona and Otleyne's power, lying on the ground in agony, holding their swollen cheeks.

This sudden turn of events brought complete silence to the tavern, already full of patrons, all eyes turning towards Muria at the entrance.

"Isn't that the humanoid magic cannon who cleared the way for the paladins at the city gate? What's he doing here?"

"Heh, maybe this big shot is also…"

"Would you shut up? Do you think this lord can't hear you? You want to get slapped?"

The quiet lasted only a moment before the patrons, who had come for fun and entertainment, began whispering amongst themselves. Muria's prior actions had significantly raised his profile in the city, and soon someone recognized him.

Muria paid no heed to the whispering and lifted off the ground, flying towards the bar. Behind him, Otleyne released a strand of draconic aura, surveying the patrons. Seeing the tavern fall silent again, he revealed a malicious smile.

"Bring out your leader from Grey Wing!" Muria demanded coldly to the bartender, who had been wiping a glass nonchalantly.

"Sorry, lord, I don't know what you're talking about," the young bartender coolly replied, continuing to wipe his glass. "If you're not here to drink, please leave."

"Heh!" Muria waved dismissively, too lazy to talk further. Forcing someone at sword-point often yielded quicker answers than polite questioning.

"You don't know death when it stares you in the face! A mere human insect of gold-level dares to disrespect our prince." Otleyne sneered, stepping forward. He grabbed the bartender's hair with an irresistible force and smashed his head against the bar.

Wood and crystal shards flew everywhere as a large chunk of the solid wood bar was smashed by the bartender's face.

"Ah!" the bartender roared, his golden-level fighting spirit erupting, forming a dark armor around him. He angrily attempted to counterattack.

But harsh reality struck him hard. Otleyne easily tore through the armor with his bare hands. The young bartender roared, but was grabbed and smashed into the ground by the grinning red dragon.

"Why so loud? Ants are ants. Yelling won't make you stronger," Otleyne said disdainfully, stepping on the bartender's head.

"Stop!" After over a minute of brutal treatment by Otleyne, a furious shout finally echoed late in the tavern.

Too late. Few people inside heard the commanding shout, as the adventurers had already fled like rabbits the moment the bartender revealed his gold-level aura. No one stayed to witness the fight up close. Battles between the strong were to be watched from afar; close-up, they were lethal. Their terrifying actions could annihilate all weak bystanders.

"At last, he shows up!" Muria looked at the slowly appearing figure in the air, still posturing, and turned away impatiently to Myles. "Myles, handle it. Get me everything I want to know. Dead or alive."

After speaking, Muria walked out of the tavern without waiting for the reaction of the old man, now revealed, and went outside to wait for the interrogation results from his two dragon followers and demonic servant.

A human old man of soul-intent first rank, if three non-human peak soul-intent beings couldn't handle it, Muria thought they might as well end their own lives to avoid shaming their races.

"Ah!" As Muria left the tavern, a terrible scream came from inside. He looked up to see a barrier already enveloping the tavern, preventing any sound from escaping.

"Good job!" Muria nodded to Fiona, who had silently erected the barrier.

Experienced as expected from an old dragon.

…Before long, Myles emerged from the tavern, a satisfied look on his face, holding a parchment filled with names.

"Master! Everything you wanted to know has been revealed."

Even in hell, soul-intent level souls were not easy to come by, a precious resource, hard to find. Now, less than a day after being summoned by Muria, he had obtained a human soul of soul-intent level. Though weak, it was still a soul-intent soul.

"What is this?" Muria took the parchment from Myles and examined it closely.

"It's a list of those who wanted to assassinate the demon-hunting knight you're protecting," Myles replied respectfully. "They all issued assassination tasks against the knight to Grey Wing and have paid a deposit."

"So many want to kill Ryan?" Muria's face showed a faint smile. "Interesting, quite an eye-opener."

"These forces wanting to kill the demon-hunting knight fall into three groups: the first includes nobles connected to dark races; the second, nobles with dark bloodlines; and the last, dark races lurking in this city."

"Prince, these despicable creatures have affronted your dignity. I suggest we annihilate them all," Otleyne suggested murderously, as red dragons relish slaughter.

"Hmm!" Muria nodded slightly. "Fiona, deliver this list and the locations of the dark races in the city to the churches of the good gods. Let them deal with it.

As for these nobles, we'll handle them. The church can't afford to act."

"…" Myles' lips moved, wanting to say something, but he gave up. He thought killing so many nobles at once was a bit audacious... but considering they offended Muria, it seemed they got what they deserved.

…In a manor in Patrick Fortress City,

"Grey Wing's assassination failed, I hear," a noble youth, pampered and unnaturally pale, spoke to his butler.

"Reportedly, that golden dragon at the city gate captured them all. They should be under interrogation now," the meticulous, obsessively neat elderly butler answered.

"Captured? A bunch of trash!" the noble youth cursed. "They won't rat me out, will they?"

"No, the assassins of Grey Wing are trustworthy."

"What if they do find out and trace it back to us?"

"What could they do to us? You are a noble of the kingdom; the church has no right to judge you."

"Right." The noble youth smiled smugly at the thought, but then, "Whoosh!" sunlight flooded in.

The youth's smile froze. Looking up, he saw the roof of his villa ripped off, a young man with black hair and golden eyes standing above, looking down indifferently, reaching out his hand...

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