Chapter 51: Tiefling (V)
"The Ruined Home"
Meizhuolashi gathered every single Tiefling refugee within the camp.
Men, women, children, elders—no matter their rank or status—any Tiefling with clear consciousness had been summoned to the central square. This was their usual gathering place, the heart of the camp, where all major news was announced.
Meizhuolashi slowly scanned the crowd, his gaze sweeping over the gaunt, scarred, broken faces of his kin.
"I... didn’t make a mistake."
He whispered the words so softly only he could hear.
At last, he made his decision. With deliberate slowness, he raised his sword.
"Brothers and sisters," he declared, his voice now raw with conviction, "I have had enough. Enough of fleeing. Enough of being hunted like beasts."
"Our blood has already spilled too much."
"What we need is not escape—
but vengeance. Tooth for tooth. Blood for blood."
The once-calm Tiefling Holy Knight spoke with fire in his voice, his pure black eyes blazing with a light utterly unlike his usual stillness.
Many who knew him were stunned—this was not the man they had come to trust.
"From now on, we join Ashen Hollow.
And the mighty Red Dragon—The Destroyer of the Eagle Guard, the legendary Flyflame, Kai Xiusu—will be our master. He will grant us sanctuary, lead us to war against the vampires, and the humans who have persecuted us."
"We will reclaim Northwind Keep.
We will take back our home.
And Kai Xiusu will guide us in forging a new world—true justice, true fairness."
His words sent shockwaves through the crowd.
A chorus of outrage, debate, and fury erupted.
For many, revenge was no longer a dream—it was the only reason they still breathed.
And now, Meizhuolashi had lit the fire within them.
They raised their weapons high, roaring in unison:
"Revenge!"
"Revenge! Revenge!"
"Break into Northwind Keep!"
"Cut off Duke Lakanman’s head!"
Yet not all agreed.
Among them were those who, though scarred by the same tragedy, still believed in kindness, in redemption.
They hoped for peace—through dialogue, through truth.
One such voice was Leirisha.
The young Tiefling woman stepped forward, her face pale with disbelief and fury.
"No, Meizhuolashi! We cannot become followers of an Evil Dragon!"
"If we do, what difference do we have from that vampire nobleman?"
Her words were met with murmurs of agreement.
Nods. Soft affirmations.
Many stood beside her, hearts aching but resolute.
But Meizhuolashi only looked at her.
That gaze—cold, distant, almost sorrowful—sent a chill through her.
"Leirisha," he said, "you didn’t listen to what I said."
She didn’t understand. Not yet.
She shook her head fiercely, her voice rising.
"No, Meizhuolashi—you’re wrong!
The humans were misled by the duke. We can show them the truth. We can call them to join us in peaceful resistance. That is the right path!"
"I’ve already reached out to allies across the land.
But if we become servants of the Evil Dragon—then all is lost. I—"
Her voice cut off.
A sharp shink echoed through the air.
Leirisha staggered back, blood painting her lips and chest.
Her azure, lake-like eyes—once so full of light—widened in horror, staring into the face of the man who had stood beside her just moments before.
"Wha—?"
She had never expected this.
The familiar depth of Meizhuolashi’s black eyes—now utterly devoid of warmth—was terrifying.
Like looking into a void.
As darkness swallowed her, she saw his lips move.
She had studied lip-reading long ago.
She understood.
It was a whisper in the tongue of Hell.
"I’m sorry."
Her frail body collapsed.
Warm blood spilled across the pristine snow, staining it crimson.
Meizhuolashi withdrew his blade with a single, clean motion.
He knew the Red Dragon was watching—hidden in the shadows of the sky.
This was his offering. His pledge.
No turning back. Only submission.
And to the rest of the camp, it was a message:
The peace faction had no place here.
Leirisha was not wrong.
She was simply naive.
Naive enough to believe trust alone could end war—just as he once had.
But the man who had once been the Redeemer Knight was now stained from the inside out.
"I’m sorry, Leirisha."
"Only so our people can live."
Blood dripped from his cheek.
He didn’t wipe it away.
Silence fell like a stone.
The crowd stood frozen.
No one dared speak.
Even the most fervent cries for vengeance had died in their throats.
"Leirisha," Meizhuolashi announced, his voice flat, cold, "was found guilty of treason. Of conspiring with the enemy. Of leaking vital intelligence."
He raised his bloodied sword, the steel glinting under the pale sun.
"By the sentence of the Military Court—"
"Revenge!"
He roared again.
"Revenge! Revenge!"
"Take back Northwind Keep! Blood Sacrifice for Kin!"
This time, more answered.
A rhythm rose—shouts, clashing weapons, the drumbeat of purpose.
Though some faces remained grim, their eyes hollow.
Then—suddenly—the sky split open.
A thunderous dragon’s roar shook the earth.
"ROOOOAAARRR!"
From above, descending with impossible grace, came the Red Dragon.
Kai Xiusu landed atop the tallest monolith, towering over the camp, his wings spread wide, casting a shadow that swallowed the entire square.
Meizhuolashi turned, stepped back into the crowd, and said nothing more.
Kai Xiusu’s golden eyes glowed like molten gold.
His voice, deep and resonant, rolled across the snow.
"I, Kai Xiusu, Master of Ashen Hollow, welcome you."
"I will grant you sanctuary. I will give you strength, honor, and a new beginning.
I will help you build a town here—on my shadow."
"But in return, you must become my Eternal Familiar.
Fight for me. Serve me.
And in time, bring me the head of that greedy Northwind Eagle."
Meizhuolashi stepped forward, bowing low.
"Let this town rise beneath your shadow.
May we ask, Your Grace—what name shall it bear?"
The Red Dragon’s eyes flickered with amusement.
"Since you are the bloodline of devils," he mused, "how about... Bathor City?"
Meizhuolashi’s expression did not shift.
No anger. No shame.
Only calm acceptance.
"Thank you for your gift."
Kai Xiusu narrowed his eyes, studying the man before him—the one who had driven the Lakanman Family to ruin for over a decade.
A man with no emotion, only logic.
A weapon without a soul.
Truly formidable, he thought.
No wonder they call him the Unfeeling One.
(End of Chapter)
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