Chapter 364 – Misha's Determination
Months ago, Old John’s corpse had been reduced to ash by soldiers’ flames.
At that moment, Misha’s rage and hatred erupted like a torrential flood, shattering the last remnants of peace within her soul.
A fierce, burning fire seemed to ignite deep within her chest, wrapping around her body like a suffocating embrace. She curled into a corner, trembling, unable to move.
And then—she suddenly knew.
She could create fire. Control it.
It was as if an innate gift had awakened within her, triggered by the death of Old John.
Thud.
Misha opened her palm.
A dancing flame bloomed in her hand—bright, intense, pulsing with heat, as if it were the physical manifestation of her soul.
Release this power, she thought. Maybe then… Lord Lanpu will notice me.
Perhaps I can gain the King’s favor… and then… finally avenge Old John with my own hands.
Her brown eyes flared with a flicker of flame—was it the reflection of the fire in her palm, or the fire within her heart, now blazing anew?
Slowly, she raised her hand.
Boom!
A deafening crack split the air.
From her palm surged a blazing Flame Dragon, coiling upward like a living storm, tearing through the sky.
The fire exploded across the heavens, scattering embers like dying stars.
“What in the world is that?”
“A spell!”
“It’s so hot! Get away!”
The intense heat warped the air. The crowd erupted into chaos, scrambling in panic.
“Enemy ambush!”
“Protect Lord Lanpu!”
“Damn it! Who dares disrupt the military formation?!”
Soldiers with steel rifles surged into the panicked throng, searching for the source.
They found only a girl—no more than eight or nine years old.
“You don’t need to look,” Misha said, her voice calm, unafraid.
She stood with arms open, the flame still dancing in her palm.
“It was me.”
“Her!”
“She did it!”
“She’s the one casting the spell! Seize her!”
The Captain of the Guards raised his long spear and bellowed, “Hold your ground! I won’t fail in front of the Chief Minister himself!”
The guards closed in, tightening their circle, preparing to capture the unknown spellcaster.
Then—Lanpu’s voice rang out.
“Stop.”
“Don’t be so tense. Fire can’t harm me.”
“Y-Yes, Your Excellency.” The Captain bowed his head, voice trembling with urgency.
Lanpu descended slowly from the sky, his staff tapping lightly against the earth. His towering presence loomed over the girl surrounded by soldiers.
He studied her carefully.
A child of eight or nine—small, slender, skin smudged with dirt, but no signs of dragonization.
She trembled from sheer tension, yet her eyes remained locked on him—fiery, unwavering, defiant.
She hadn’t broken. Not yet.
And judging by the power of the spell she’d just cast—Third Circle level.
That meant she likely possessed the natural talent of a Fifth-Level spellcaster.
Lanpu’s eyes narrowed slightly. A flicker of interest sparkled in them.
“A natural spellcaster?”
“Without any bestowal… to possess such power… truly rare.”
“She could become a strength for the kingdom.”
With that, he stepped forward, offering a smile he thought was warm and kind.
“Child, don’t be afraid. I am Lanpu—Chief Minister of the realm.”
“What is it you need?”
But Misha looked up—only to be swallowed by the monstrous shadow of the Ogre.
His grotesque face twisted into a strange grin, long, curved fangs bared.
She could almost smell the scent of blood on the wind.
Yet, through sheer willpower, she held her ground—though her body shook like a leaf in a storm.
Finally, she whispered, voice trembling but clear:
“Lanpu… Lord Lanpu.”
“I… I…”
She clenched her jaw, silence gripping her for a heartbeat—then, with a deep breath, she made her choice.
“I want to see the King.”
“Ah?”
“Lord Lanpu… I want to see the King.”
Her voice was soft—but unwavering.
Lanpu tilted his head, then slowly shook it. He tapped his staff against the ground, turning half away.
“Countless people seek an audience with the King,” he said, voice low. “Some for wealth. Power. Strength. Or… simply to gaze upon the majesty of His Divine Presence.”
He turned back, voice dropping to a whisper.
“And you? What do you want?”
“I… I…” Misha faltered, then swallowed hard.
“I want to avenge my grandfather. He died in the Magul Incident.”
Lanpu replied with a detached calm.
“Your wish has already been fulfilled. Two months ago, Marshal Dolo led the kingdom’s armies to crush the Northern Coalition. Justice was served.”
Misha shook her head violently.
“No… it’s not over. That damned Leo Bosk planned the coup. He used demon power to escape. He hasn’t faced judgment.”
“I want to kill him… with my own hands.”
Tears welled in her eyes.
Her pupils flared—flames flashing deep within.
“Interesting,” Lanpu murmured, a smile tugging at his lips.
He waved a hand at the guards.
“Disperse. This is just a brave child. No need for suspicion.”
“Yes, Lord.”
“As you command.”
The guards stepped back, bowing in deference.
Then, with deliberate grace, the massive Ogre lowered himself into a crouch—his bulk like a mountain of meat. Even seated, he towered over the girl.
Lanpu leaned down, his gaze fixed on Misha’s brown eyes.
“Tell me, child… what is your name?”
“Misha,” she said, mustering every ounce of courage.
“My grandfather, Old John, gave me that name.”
She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze—her voice now steady, no longer shaking.
Lanpu stood. Smiling.
“Good. Misha.”
“Come with me. I will take you to the Royal Palace. I’m certain the King will wish to meet you.”
With a flick of his staff, an invisible force lifted both of them into the air.
They floated above the ground.
“Ah!” Misha gasped, her heart pounding.
But she forced herself to remain composed—only glancing down once, curiously, at the world below.
It felt like a dream.
The semi-goatfolk drummed their war drums again, and the passionate rhythm of military music filled the air.
The attendants quickly reformed into perfect lines, surrounding Lanpu once more as the procession resumed.
The triumphal ceremony continued.
Crowds whispered, eyes filled with envy—wishing they could trade places, to stand beside the Ogre, to be chosen.
“Who is she? How can she walk beside Lord Lanpu?”
“Lucky homefolk.”
“Just look at her—so lucky.”
“Indeed. To gain the Chief Minister’s recognition… she might just become another important figure.”
(End of Chapter)
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