Kobold Wizard's Journal

Chapter 481 Contradictions and Submissions

The demon, sporting a pair of rough and ugly curved horns, looked utterly captivated, as if he were admiring a rare treasure rather than Luger.

This was the first time Luger had felt uncomfortable with such a non-hostile gaze; he found it far more reassuring than a surge of malice.

Fortunately, he has a thick skin, so his discomfort was only slight.

"Tsk tsk tsk! Truly magnificent, wondrous creations that could only be born under the intervention of the great will of the abyss. Each demon is a work of art from the abyss," the demon in bulky clothes turned to look at the tall mount, "Tsk tsk, this one is quite nice too. It looks a bit stupid, but it's also a mutant demon. Hmm, not bad at all..."

“A demon in clothes cannot be considered a true demon,” Ruger said in a deep voice.

This time, he slightly adjusted his accent to suit the strange demon in front of him, his deep voice carrying a hint of hoarseness.

The swaying demon suddenly froze.

"Another ignorant fellow... but at least your Abyssal language is fairly standard. Those guys talk like they have a bone in their mouths, and their words are incoherent... Remember this: in the eyes of truly powerful demons, in the eyes of those lords, those things that don't know how to wear clothes aren't real demons, but rather low-level, brainless creatures..."

The demon sighed as he spoke, as if he were an elderly man.

This surprised Ruger even more. How could a demon get old? Only powerful demons can live a long time, and even if powerful demons are worn down by the years, they rarely show signs of aging.

Therefore, the existence of this old demon seems quite contradictory.

But Ruger understood what he meant. The so-called clothing was just a metaphor, meaning that in terms of intelligence, those without intelligence were only beasts in the eyes of high-ranking demons. Only those with brains were true demons. And with brains, other things would naturally arise, such as pursuits beyond simple primal instincts, or the bulky and ill-fitting clothes on this demon's body.

He was trying to show off his wisdom, and seeing that the newcomer Ruger was clearly wise, he approached him and struck up a conversation.

Ruger looked at the old demon dressed in bulky clothes.

"Oh, eyes of wisdom, just those eyes. It's a pity you're too late. If you had arrived a few hundred years earlier, you might have been a contender for the lordship... You know, a strange, mutated demon like you, who seems to exist out of nowhere, is more likely to be favored by the abyss once it grows powerful..."

A simple dispute over clothing once again drew the old demon's attention back. He clicked his tongue in amazement and kept looking at Luger.

This was also one of Ruger's goals. The old man seemed quite wise and knowledgeable. Ruger believed that his disguise was much better than that of his mount brother.

Ruger noticed that the old devil would occasionally glance discreetly at Mahama, or more precisely, at the bag hanging on the big guy's body.

“You outstanding individuals are still too young to be born. Even with your brilliant minds, there are still many things you haven’t seen. Having a brain but no experience is not true wisdom. However, I have a way,” the old demon said, stopping in front of Ruger. “I can give you wisdom that no one in this city can match immediately.”

"Eat you?" Ruger murmured with a grin.

Ruger's words were clearly not unexpected by the old devil.

"Tsk tsk, even seemingly intelligent newborn demons can't escape the shackles of their nature, which just shows that you need my salvation... What I'm saying is, pledging allegiance to me means that you can use my wisdom to successfully overcome this lord's summons, that's the feeling that drew you here."

The old demon stretched his body as he spoke.

Luger's eyes lit up. Loyalty was no problem, in fact, something they were eager to do. Regardless of the strength of this person, all they wanted was to integrate better.

The old demon's form began to change, gradually growing taller, but the demonic horns on his head remained rough and ugly.

"As expected, demons still need to use their fists to communicate..." The tall old demon stretched his arms.

Ruger's words seemed to have thwarted the old demon's attempt to persuade him, prompting him to adopt a simpler, more direct approach to communication. Ruger was about to speak up to stop him, but then held back. True demons are indeed difficult to communicate with verbally. Even for a simple collaboration, they would first assess who had the greater strength. If a compromise was reached without a show of force, then that demon must have already known that the other party had the greater strength, such as some demons who would make deals with wizards.

boom!
The loyal mount brother flew away.

Ruger curled his lip. It was Mahama himself who blocked his way. The guy was quite into the role, roaring and howling as he flew out.

During his month-long journey, Luger ate demon hearts and drank the blood of various demons to quench his thirst. He felt that his skin was tougher and thicker than before, as if it had not grown out before. Of course, this may also be related to the environment he was in for a long time.

A huge fist came swinging down.

Ruger was thinking that the old demon's clothes finally fit him just barely, and at the same time he felt a sinking force pressing down on him.

He simply raised his hand to block, and then flew away like his mount.

Stirring up a cloud of dust.

Ruger swayed as he stood up, straightening his slightly deformed arm. The slight discomfort from the sprain and misalignment would soon subside.

He glanced at his mount, which was still lying on the ground, and knew that the guy was still in character and wouldn't really be in any danger; perhaps it was still waiting for him to make a statement.

The dust settles down faster during the settling process.

Hearing a series of unhurried footsteps, Ruger lowered his body and casually knelt on one knee, bowing his head, which was equivalent to lowering his knees in submission. He even thought for a moment and then bent his arm back down, even at a greater angle.

The footsteps paused.

The owner of the footsteps seemed to have not expected things to go so smoothly.

Laughter then began to rise.

"That proves you guys are still smart, hehehe. Now let's go! But... he's my mount now, not yours..."

The old demon's figure once again shrank into a pile of bulky clothes.

Neither Ruger nor Mahama, the two mutant demons, expressed any objection to the old demon's words.

Mahama also wobbled to her feet.

"Not bad, not bad, you can still stand up."

The old demon leaped and sat on Mahama's shoulder.

This guy seems to have been admiring Luger ever since he sat down.

"Hehehe, now let's go to this terrible place and find something not so terrible for ourselves."

The old demon slapped his mount's head hard as he spoke.

As his mount began to move, Ruger naturally followed silently, while inwardly mourning for his mount.

(End of this chapter)