Academic gathering with Lich colleagues

"what?"

"Let the evil god rule everything." There is no shortage of traitors and antisocial lunatics among liches. "After all, he is a creator, a master who has woken up and takes out what he owns from his own drawer. Private property is sacred and inviolable. Strictly speaking, He is our mother, and there is nothing wrong with that."

"Let me tell you what's right." The gentleman appeared beside the lich who was talking, and the withered rose had its shriveled petals glowing, like embers still burning.

“A mother who never cared for you has returned to you hundreds of years later, patted you on the shoulder and said, ‘Child, you are an accident,’ and then said she would put you back into her womb. And she has said the same words to thousands of ‘children.’ In fact, your importance to Him is no more than a dispensable leg hair. This is not a metaphor, because you really will become a leg hair of the sleeper, or something similar.”

"Fine, I choose war."

Chapter 802 The Swarm

The smoke and dust rose up with the roar of the giant beast, and the predators of life showed a human-like fear in their eyes. Dragging their bloodied bodies and mangled limbs, they fled into the dark depths of the dense forest.

The flames, like fresh blood, swept in with the clamor of death, like a ravenous glutton devouring the forest. The moisture evaporated by the intense heat, and the rising stench of blood acted as an appetite stimulant. Crawling on the ashes, the giant beasts formed from the flames sprinkled their "saliva" everywhere.

This forest was clearly unusual. The plants, which should have been weak against fire, fought back against the blaze. The waterlogged vines, the solidified thorns, and the aerial roots that constantly sprayed water vapor—these plants did a better job of fire prevention than anyone else. The survival instinct of life is so great.

The arsonists swiftly crushed the great into dust. Ancient humans trampled the grass underfoot, cut down vines, and, shirtless, ignored the raging flames. They retrieved half-burnt logs from the fire and tossed them into the unlit depths of the green foliage. The burly men, reborn from the flames, roared with wild fury, and the tribe continued its slaughter of the land and all life within it.

Born to be part of the natural bounty of Sahazane, ancient humans did not fear fire; instead, they became its bane, persecuting other life forms.

The black dragon Alcalon flapped its wings to shake off the dust, and the suspended particles in the air made its nasal cavity feel a little uncomfortable and dry.

What a beautiful scene of hell.

"It would be even better if it weren't in my own home."

He landed gracefully on the stone peak, gripping the edge of the cliff with his front paws. The landing of his lower body caused a slight tremor. He stretched his neck and looked around. The entire Sahazam was engulfed in a sea of ​​fire, centered on the stone peak where ancient humans had settled. The sea of ​​fire resembled a blooming flower.

He was excited. The beastly desire of the battle dragons to destroy was forcibly suppressed by the villain's restraint. Alcaron looked at the old man beside him with some resentment. The black dragon priest Omhead had stayed here longer than him.

"Is this a scorched-earth policy?"

The old man did not reply, seemingly believing that such an obvious question did not require a response.

Alcalon didn't press further, standing beside the old man gazing at death and flames, silent as a stone statue.

"...Are you feeling better, White Dragon and Principes?"

A hint of smugness lingered on the dragon's face, hidden behind its scales.

"That old bastard has taken control of Bohr's demonic transformation. You should really see him manipulating those bone spikes to burst out of his flesh..."

“Poldris has become a tattered bag riddled with holes, and Immelt is rebuilding him with the flames of life. That white dragon priest has become even more insane, still shouting to kill the evil god when he was controlled by Moroki, and now he is guarding that mermaid ice sculpture mountain.”

"That old codger drove us back, saying the enemy was coming and the Sleeper's minions would invade our territory. My most respected teacher, you seem to know our enemy very well."

Omheid, the Black Dragon Priest, a master of facial expression management. The Black Dragon knew that this old-man-like dragon priest could transform into a giant dragon like himself with a few quick movements, but in his disguised form, his features resembled a wrinkled old face twisted into a ball, and Alcaron could never discern any expression from the dough-like folds.

Just like now, upon hearing the sound, Black Dragon could only see a slight tremor on his face.

"In the last war of the gods, our tribe suffered heavy losses because of them. The enemy was insects, the devourers Yemotar climbed onto the land and evolved into the land rulers before the Dragonfather. The era before the Age of Dragons was the Age of the Swarm."

The black dragon bared its teeth, filled with curiosity about its former enemy.

"They were simply wiped out by the Sleepers?"

"You might find it hard to understand. The Zerg, because of their unique social structure and hierarchical levels of thinking, are a race with a relatively fixed mindset. The Dragonfather is a fragment of a god who represents betrayal, and the dragons he breeds all have a certain degree of 'freedom' of thought. The Zerg queen civilization makes them spontaneously worship and love higher superiors."

"Before they could think independently, they were assimilated by the sleeping Creator. God worship is the final product of the queen ant structure."

The Black Dragon Priest's introduction to the Zerg civilization came to an abrupt end, revealing that the previous explanations had been merely rote memorization; no one knew how much effort he had put into reciting them. The Black Dragon faction shared a profound aversion to this wisdom concerning social construction and intellectual education.

"So, who is the enemy we should be fighting, what are their capabilities, and how can we defeat them?"

"Heartbreakers, a specialized swarm of insects."

"That's a name? Oh, its parents must have disliked it very much." Alcalon deliberately gasped for breath in an exaggerated tone, his aggression towards his enemy, the eldest son of war, manifesting in every aspect.

"...The swarm is soldiers; they are better at accepting missions than names. The Heartflayers are a swarm of insects with specialized parasitic abilities. They can parasitize living beings through covert mediums and control their hosts to launch attacks. In the last war, almost all of our tribal warriors died by the axes of their own comrades. What terrified ancient humans was not bloodshed and sacrifice, but the sight of close friends turning against each other. Our war is not a bloody conflict, but a spy war to distinguish friend from foe."

Alcaron narrowed his eyes, a hint of murderous intent surging from the threat flashing within them. He enjoyed challenging opponents. The Heartflayers' targeting of the physically powerful ancient humans was clearly visible; being deliberately targeted felt like having a splinter stuck in your fingernail. In that instant, the black dragon's rage coalesced into a raging volcano.

"This reminds me of Lyle, that damn zookeeper who once scared me with nightmares..."

"The swarm's advantage lies in its reproductive capacity and massive numbers. Thanks to the powerful mutation ability gained from the evil god, they can evolve and select units that are effective against any faction. You're right, the swarm's servant army is designed to exploit the strengths and weaknesses of every dragon's kin. To defeat the swarm, you must first overcome your own weaknesses."

"Dancing on the enemy's weak spot, hahaha, I can hardly tell which side is the primitive tribe eliminated by history." Alcaron laughed loudly. The smoke he inhaled did not cause the black dragon any discomfort. The black mist leaking from the corner of his mouth, coupled with his sinister gaze, made him look even more like a cunning and venomous dragon.

Despite the fact that the conversation was largely detrimental to the tribe, both the black dragon and the dragon priest remained calm, gazing silently at the towering flames. The representatives of flesh and power stood amidst the ashes, exuding arrogance.

Alcalon was still too young; he was the first to lower his head, crouching on the ground like a viper, spitting out venom.

"That's why you agreed to let him get involved..."

The voice carried the smugness of discovering the truth, as well as the anger of being desecrated.

"Using an evil god to fight an evil god... You understand that the weaknesses of the Familia cannot be changed in a short time, which is why you used Lyle to interfere with everyone. His characteristics as an evil god can create a certain degree of cognitive bias in all those he comes into contact with. Only he can change us in a short time, make us enter an alternative 'madness', and thus overcome our obvious weaknesses."

"So you really have a lot of nerve, you insane dragon priests... You have turned dragons and your race into toys of evil gods."

Alcalon truly harbored murderous intent towards his own people, and his supposedly cunning maneuvers behind the scenes seemed to be guided by some subtle influences.

"Let the evil god come into contact with my father, corrupt the dragons, and then let them take over and corrupt their own kind. In a way that we can accept and feel is normal, turn everyone... into another evil god's alternative army of servants..."

Omhead coldly replied, "The erosion of the gods is inevitable and irresistible. It is not determined by anyone's will or even a certain concept. If you feel that everything is out of your control, you can fabricate an invisible force called 'fate' to comfort yourself."

As if to comfort the black dragon who was in some kind of hysteria, the dragon priest added another sentence.

"Come on, you've accepted the outcome, so what's there to be dramatic about, you eldest son of war."

Alcalon grinned, unleashing the berserker's nameless rage.

"Expressing my displeasure is a right that fate has given me, and I will crush those bugs."

Chapter 803 The Demon Within

The flames still burned in the remaining ashes. Although Sahazane was lush, the vegetation was not endless. As the last bit of tender green turned to ashes, the flames shrank and disappeared with the crackling of the last pile of firewood. The jungle was burned into a muddy path. A burly man, covered in ash and looking like a person of color, squatted in the ashes, stuffing the re-processed roasted meat into his mouth with a mouthful of ash.

The ancient human hunting party, having completed its task of burning the jungle, did not return. Instead, they formed groups of ten, guarding the edge of the Sahazane lands like jeweled pendants. Omhead did not explain the reasons in detail, and the berserkers, not being particularly adept at thinking, did not complain much. Although they lacked wives, children, and warm beds, the sense of accomplishment from fulfilling their leader's demands and the boyish satisfaction of playing with fire would allow these berserkers to remain content for a while longer.

Completely oblivious to being isolated as a potential threat, the violent individuals disguised as coal miners indulged in unrestrained eating, drinking, boasting, and joking within their own little circle.

“Eliminating all life and eliminating the possibility of the Heart-Stealing Worms ingesting flesh through carnivorous means, it still keeps the young and strong of the tribe out.” The black dragon Alcaron lay on the highest point of the stone peak, gazing at the small campfires around him like an overseer.

The foreman, Omhead, was being overly cautious.

"Transmission via parasitic food is just one possible method of invasion for the Heartflayers. You can't expect the enemy to act according to our wishes, and these aren't ordinary parasites; we must prepare for the worst. Perhaps the Heartflayers can spread easily through the air, or even in a vacuum. Maybe they can spread with just a glance."

“Ha, whoever you glare at will get worms.” Alcalon was amused and agreed with the black dragon priest’s humor. “Then your quarantine measures are meaningless; only foolish actions are meaningless.”

Omhead shrugged, and a small clump of ash fell from his robes. There wasn't supposed to be so much; it was just that the dragon cubs had been blowing on him from behind. "It wasn't a wasted effort. Separating the able-bodied men from the women and children can effectively reduce casualties. The forces below the stone peak are safe."

So the lives of the hunting party members are worthless, but the lives of those who served as muscular maids have been devalued. Alcaron maliciously speculated, joking with the black dragon priest to pass the time. Before confirming the enemy and observing the tribesmen's unusual reactions, the two supervisors could only wait.

"If the Heart-Stealing Worms really don't need a transmission medium, as you say, these weak tribesmen won't be spared either. They can easily ignore the terrain and directly parasitize women and children."

Omhead turned and glared at the black dragon, somewhat surprised that the little brat was either deliberately being argumentative or genuinely stupid.

"The swarm operates on the standard survival of the fittest mentality. If you can control the strongest fighting force, would you want a weaker host? Controlling the hunting party can have a decisive effect, and the instinct of life will choose the strong young ones."

Omhead realized that the black dragon Alcalon was courting death again. After sensing the malice behind the dragon priest's misdeeds, the rebellious eldest son became increasingly self-centered towards his dragon priest.

"My esteemed teacher, if those insects were truly intelligent, they would know that controlling the other two individual units would have a decisive effect..." Black Dragon's eyelids narrowed, adopting a tone reminiscent of discussing heroes over plum wine.

"You might as well let the Heartflayer control your father; he could slap us all to death." Using an even more exaggerated analogy, the Black Dragon Priest indicated that the Heartflayer's power was limited; controlling ordinary members of its swarm was already the limit of what the swarm could achieve. Perhaps it was to save the main course for the revered Creator, or perhaps its power was insufficient; at least the Heartflayer had no possibility of controlling the Dragon Priest or the dragons themselves.

The Sleepers didn't have high hopes for the swarm; creating chaos was their greatest expectation. It was like a casual, harmless move, but the Dragonkin had to treat it with the utmost apprehension. If it weren't for the influence of an evil god on their side, the dragons and priests would probably be in a much worse mood.

The Black Dragon Priest observed a camp and looked for an excuse to send the annoying little cutie away.

"There's unrest in the camp. Perhaps our enemies have arrived. Go and greet them, Firstborn of War, let those oviparous bugs know the horror of power."

Arcalon, hatched from the egg, glanced one last time at his dragon priest. That's the downside of dealing with burly, muscle-bound brutes—you can never tell if they're intentionally insulting you. Flapping his wings, sending the black dragon priest sprawling in dust, Arcalon flew towards the edge of his territory.

……

The hunting party had been sitting idly for too long; all the initial excitement had subsided, and the restlessness of having nothing to do gradually took over. Sharpening weapons, shaking their legs, pacing back and forth within the designated area—all these actions were repeated many times, and the apocalyptic environment they had created around them lost its novelty.

As darkness fell, the berserkers, no longer receiving orders, felt a sense of loneliness, as if they had been abandoned. The impatient tribesmen looked back at the summit of the stone peak, only to find it shrouded in a thick cloud of dust.

The leader says there's an enemy invasion. Where are the enemies?

Why isn't the leader giving any orders? Is there no movement from back home?

Could our base have been raided? Damn it, my wife and son are both over there.

They exchanged glances with their hunting companions, the tacit understanding forged through years of cooperation allowing them to grasp each other's meaning. I was anxious, and he was even more so. Emotions are contagious, and the collective frustration of the group created a discordant voice amidst the otherwise quiet warriors.

"Why don't we go back and take a look? I think the safety of our hometown is more important."

The dissent was almost driven by the soldiers' instincts.

“We must ensure the safety of our territory. If we miss any trace of the enemy, that would be the real danger.” The suppressed voice seemed to be trying to convince himself while convincing others. “Trust the leader. We had better obey his orders until they were given. The wisdom of our leader is beyond our reach.”

Some people scoffed, their buried resentment like a cellar door being pried open, releasing a strange, chaotic smell of looting.

"A wise judgment? Does that include Mr. Brandy?"

All the berserkers glared angrily at the damned fellow. This fool had unleashed the demon within them—the demon within everyone. Their bodies trembled, and some experienced a rejection reaction. For a moment, the arguing ceased in the wind. But everyone understood that the seed of unease had been planted, waiting to sprout.

Then the newcomers started stabbing their wounds, tearing flesh and blood apart, causing their livers and gallbladders to rupture.

"Mr. Brandy? I quite like that guy, he's a very interesting person, isn't he?" Where there's fun, there's a black dragon. Alcalon is practically a monster that feeds on the suffering of others, making no attempt to hide the mockery in his eyes.

"Lord Black Dragon!!" The berserkers felt as if they had seen a glimmer of hope. Black Dragon's vicious methods had successfully won the hearts of the people, or perhaps it was the power of Black Dragon's tyranny that had resonated so deeply with them.

Those lurking in the darkness are even more cautious.

"Come on, my family, we're going to play a fun game."

"The title is 'Who is the Spy'."

Chapter 804 Solving problems with violence, or solving oneself

With each word Alcalon uttered, sharp teeth flashed like rows of razors. The berserker assumed the dragon had come to take control, but the unsettling news he gleaned from Alcalon was taking over the tense atmosphere from a different angle.