"But a demi-human clan... is there a Demi-human Queen present?"
Horulf suddenly thought of this and turned to ask his subordinate.
"No, sir. The cave is too small to accommodate a Demi-human Queen, and this area falls outside the sphere of influence for both the Academy and the Carian royalty."
The subordinate explained the situation clearly. Horulf nodded, feeling a touch of regret. Among the various demi-humans, the Queens were the only ones capable of even rudimentary communication, possessing a decent level of intelligence. Most other demi-humans were little more than unrefined beasts.
In the Lands Between, demi-human civilization was extremely primitive—comparable to the prehistoric era of human society. They followed a matriarchal clan structure, and exceptional individuals like the Demi-human Queens were rare.
Even rarer were those like the Demi-human Swordmasters... and as for those like Boc, they were one in a million. The vast majority of demi-humans retained their primal ferocity, lacked reason, and were fiercely isolationist and hostile toward humans.
As for the Misbegotten, who shared a striking resemblance to demi-humans, they faced various fates. In a sense, they were once part of the demi-human lineage, but after receiving the blessings of the Aspects of the Crucible, they diverged into distinct subspecies. Some became slaves, others warriors, while some lived as outcasts in the wilds.
Beyond these two groups were the Beastmen. Unlike the others, Beastmen possessed high intelligence and had formed their own civilization. They worshipped the Ancient Dragons and shared a profound bond with them; essentially, wherever an Ancient Dragon resided, Beastmen were sure to be found. They had their own language, culture, and aesthetics, making them a truly sapient race.
"In that case, use force to make them submit. Capture their leader alive and keep them penned near the entrance. That should suffice."
"Understood. I'll see to it immediately."
After giving his orders, Horulf's figure blurred. He returned to his vantage point on the heights to survey the distant villages and towns. He could already see troops from the town near the Gatefront moving toward this area.
They had to pick up the pace, or they risked being caught red-handed.
Just as Horulf was about to head down to spur his men into action, a resonant dragon roar pierced the sky. With the roar came a sudden heaviness in Horulf's limbs. It was the natural pressure of a superior predator—the "Dragon's Presence." His current strength wasn't enough to fully shrug off the weight of such an aura.
ROAARRR!
The cry and the shadow appearing in the sky didn't just catch Horulf's attention; they tugged at the heartstrings of Nebra, Lange, and the others in the nearby town.
Nebra, in particular, was revitalized. His plan to become an Ancient Dragon Man had collapsed, but what about the path of the Dragon Communionist? The opportunity was right before his eyes!
CRASH!
With a sound like a thunderclap, a massive flying dragon—roughly twenty meters long by estimation—landed in the forest clearing not far from the village. The creature peered at the villagers and livestock with a look of predatory curiosity.
Flying Dragons were easy to distinguish from Ancient Dragons. Two legs and two wings meant a Flying Dragon; four legs and four wings meant an Ancient Dragon. Scales like lizard hide indicated a Flying Dragon, while rock-hard, gravel-like scales belonged to the Ancients. Generally, Flying Dragons were weaker in both power and intellect.
Lange, who was positioned near the village, rushed to the scene as soon as the dragon landed. With a wave of his hand, he ordered his men to slowly encircle the area while he personally stepped forward to face the beast.
Seeing Lange approach, the dragon didn't attack. It simply watched him in silence. This reaction made Lange uneasy; he had a bad feeling about this.
Typically, Flying Dragons were creatures of pure instinct who cared nothing for human life. Their low intelligence made communication nearly impossible. Yet, the specimen before him seemed... different.
"Dragon! Do you intend to violate the pact between your Dragon Mother and the Storm Lord?!"
"Human... watch your tongue. Furthermore, you are not worthy of addressing me. Bring out the Lord of this land to speak with me!!"
Suddenly, words like rolling thunder erupted from the dragon's maw. Though the speech was somewhat stiff and guttural, it was unmistakably the common tongue of the Lands Between.
Lange's expression hardened. Realizing this was no ordinary dragon, he immediately forgot about tracking the new faction entering Limgrave. He needed to report this to Lord Nebra immediately!
"I understand. Please wait here."
"Hurry, insect. My patience is limited."
With that, the dragon exhaled a gout of scorching hot air from its nostrils. Lange ignored the insult; he knew that dragons, especially the Flying variety, were incredibly arrogant creatures. Ancient Dragons might be more reasonable due to their higher intelligence and history of interaction with the world, but Flying Dragons...
"Lord Horulf, should we...?"
"The situation has changed," Horulf replied. "I will inform Lord Mohg. This turn of events was unexpected... Speed up the progress on your end. Switch to a more aggressive scouting plan. Delays will only breed more trouble."
"Yes, sir!"
Huff! Puff! Huff!
Mohg was currently sprawled out on the scarred earth like a bellows, gasping for air. His practice armor was covered in dents, his clothes were soaked through with sweat, and his body was a map of bruises and abrasions.
"That's enough for today. I'll have someone bring the scrolls to you tomorrow. Training resumes the day after."
Mohg's face twisted in a silent grimace, but he nodded. He didn't speak—partly out of respect, but mostly because he was too exhausted to form words. While the process was grueling, he couldn't deny that his combat skills were sharpening at an incredible rate. It was a classic case of "no pain, no gain."
Lord Mohg, a Flying Dragon has arrived in our sector. It appears to be communicating with the local humans.
Lying on the ground with glazed eyes, Mohg's breathing hitched as he received the message from Horulf. A sharp light flickered in his eyes, though it was quickly replaced by a frown.
Truth be told, he was "hungry" for that dragon's body—specifically its heart and essence. But... he was currently tied down here. This was a real dilemma.
Unless... unless he could figure out a way to manifest another clone.
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Elden Ring: As the Consort, I Reject Miquella (412 Chapters – Ongoing)
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