King Dacate Rev'Deca, king of all dekans that dwell within the kingdom of Armenes, towered over his most loyal and strongest warriors. Having feasted and consumed over a hundred templars, absorbing their highly-concentrated and potent mana-hearts, the dragonkin was truly leaning upon the precipice of evolution.
If one were to ignore the finer-details, such as the gills that covered his back rather than mighty-wings that provided flight, perhaps Dacate truly was on the verge of becoming that in which the entirety of Armenes believed to be holy.
A religion and culture centralized around the belief of dragons, one that endeavoured itself to become such celestial-beasts, no one, not a single dekan dared to go against their king, not after his recent growth.
His trusted friend and vassal, Mattew Mal proudly stood besides the king, also having partaken of templar-flesh. Now towered over the warriors he commanded. Having consumed 900 high-quality mana-hearts, and the flesh that was trained and purified by such pristine-mana, the dekans now fielded a thousand-strong elite force of their own. Stronger than the usual rabble that had simply managed to achieve their first evolutionary-transformation, away from their humanoid-bodies and onto the first step towards becoming a dragon.
Prince Victor Del Lagos, along with Istvan Deuce and a dozen other templars who held positions of authority were bound in chains as they were paraded through the dekan army. Slowly marched through the sickening laughter, roaring cheers and lip-licking saliva in which such a large force of dekans surrounded them with.
When they were finally marched through the bones of their old comrades, and up onto the podium in which the dekan-king stood. Victor could only ferociously glare in hatred so thick, the man started to hallucinate seeing magical blades slicing the monster into thin-pieces of ham.
Albeit, such dreams were quickly taken away when a tail as powerful as a ogre's punch slapped the man across the cheek. Wiping such blatant disrespect out of the human before he and his group were forced to kneel.
"So, prince of the lowly-humans. How have you enjoyed the tour of our great-kingdom?"
Flashbacks assaulted the prince's mind, trauma from Rima Regenon and her ability to overwhelm him, on top of the nightmare that fell upon his templar-corps. His mind, on the verge of breaking once more, could only seek refuge by recalling the memories and moments in which he shared with Daisy, and the baby that was safely within her belly.
Seeing as the man wasn't in the right state of mind to even argue against him in entertainment. Dacate kissed his teeth as he felt greatly annoyed. Was it not the winner's right to enjoy and relish in their victory?
"Mattew, Matrash. What have you two done to the poor soul? Why isn't he able to entertain me any longer?"
The two generals knelt before their king, before answering without delay.
"Your Majesty, we did as instructed. We gave the human a tour of our military-facilities, on top of our reproduction and training grounds. We educated the human in the speed and ability of our race's potent ability to multiply, and that of the speed in which our children grow."
"Did you present the man and his friends with front-row seats, when my mighty-army cooked and dined on the flesh of his warriors?"
"Yes! We did!"
"We ensured they stayed awake by whipping any human who refused to watch."
Dacate scratched his chin with one of his mightily long nails, one that was as long as a sword.
"I don't get it. They were honoured with death, to be consumed and absorbed, knowing that their strongest would be honoured in death by powering the even greater and stronger forces of my army." His lizard like eyes landed upon Dion, one of his strategists and the dekan in charge of intelligence. "Dion, your report mentioned that the races down south believed in glory and honour upon the battlefields no? Why isn't the man happy and rejoicing that his weaker and lower-species was actually useful towards us, the greater-species?"
Dion could only apologetically bow, as he equally scratched his own chin. Thinking back, the only facility the dekans hadn't bothered showing the humans were their farms.
With such a large population of warriors that required and ate much more meat than the everyday citizen would. Naturally the dekans were also very adventurous and open-minded about their diet. As such, they had farms and facilities that were jam-packed with goblins as if they were chickens. With nothing to do in captivity but to breed day-in and day-out, with their highly potent-seed that was equally flexible as it could fertilize eggs of all races. The unlucky races and species that were captured and utilized like cows or better said, like pigs. Were bred and farmed.
Without lucky or unlucky, due to their slower fertilization and growth speed, humanoid beings such as the humans, elves and dhans were exempt from such farming techniques.
However, even with such farms producing meat for her armies, the kingdom of Armenes weren't blessed with dekans who were intelligent enough in logistics and provisioning. As every single dekan desired greater feed, to empower their bodies.
..
Speaking to the absentminded prince, Dacate casually leaned backwards as his tail kept him upright like a chair would.
"The dhans once reported to us the usage of your colosseum. You deliberately trained and consumed the beasts and monsters that you bred and raised no? Didn't your generals and captain speak of the process as some holy-ritual, and that such lowly beasts were blessed to be nutrition that would power the greatest and strongest of your species?
I don't see the difference here? Do you not feel lucky? That your bodies may serve as high-quality ingredients that would make my armies stronger? So that I may better portray and deliver this continent to the heavens as a gift?"
Having worked his brains more than his muscles for minutes longer than he would like, the dekan-king threw such thoughts aside as he continued to observe his armies enjoy their feast.
"Whatever I guess, why would a dragon care of the thoughts and emotions of sheep."
As he got off his tail and turned towards his own meal, something wet splat upon his prided-tail. Turning his gaze around, a templar had spat upon him, defying the tyranny and dominance of such monsters.
"Fuck you you overgrown lizard, you consider yourself a dragon, but neigh! You're but a lizardman, something that belongs in swamps and and dirty-piss-water!"
Dacate's tail shot forward, piercing the man's steel-plated armour and the leather under it in a single thrust, before snatching the man's beating heart out. Plucking it before throwing it into his mouth as Dacate quickly bit down and enjoyed the essence like juice.
"Whilst a dragon wouldn't care of a sheep's thoughts, if said sheep dared to disturb a dragon's sleep, then there will only be death."
...
Forced to watch the ongoing feast, as elves, dark-elves, humans, goblins and beasts were cooked-alive and eaten. Istvan's heart could only swirl with rage, vowing to himself that if the opportunity ever presented itself, regardless of his survival, he would kill the king.
And whilst Victor appeared to have shrunken back into his soulless self, Istvan the ever loyal templar would pray for the man's wit and intelligence to come through. Believing the prince to be their only-hope.
kophzi Yeah, this chapter was really dark huh.
King Dacate Rev'Deca, king of all dekans that dwell within the kingdom of Armenes, towered over his most loyal and strongest warriors. Having feasted and consumed over a hundred templars, absorbing their highly-concentrated and potent mana-hearts, the dragonkin was truly leaning upon the precipice of evolution.
If one were to ignore the finer-details, such as the gills that covered his back rather than mighty-wings that provided flight, perhaps Dacate truly was on the verge of becoming that in which the entirety of Armenes believed to be holy.
A religion and culture centralized around the belief of dragons, one that endeavoured itself to become such celestial-beasts, no one, not a single dekan dared to go against their king, not after his recent growth.
His trusted friend and vassal, Mattew Mal proudly stood besides the king, also having partaken of templar-flesh. Now towered over the warriors he commanded. Having consumed 900 high-quality mana-hearts, and the flesh that was trained and purified by such pristine-mana, the dekans now fielded a thousand-strong elite force of their own. Stronger than the usual rabble that had simply managed to achieve their first evolutionary-transformation, away from their humanoid-bodies and onto the first step towards becoming a dragon.
Prince Victor Del Lagos, along with Istvan Deuce and a dozen other templars who held positions of authority were bound in chains as they were paraded through the dekan army. Slowly marched through the sickening laughter, roaring cheers and lip-licking saliva in which such a large force of dekans surrounded them with.
When they were finally marched through the bones of their old comrades, and up onto the podium in which the dekan-king stood. Victor could only ferociously glare in hatred so thick, the man started to hallucinate seeing magical blades slicing the monster into thin-pieces of ham.
Albeit, such dreams were quickly taken away when a tail as powerful as a ogre's punch slapped the man across the cheek. Wiping such blatant disrespect out of the human before he and his group were forced to kneel.
"So, prince of the lowly-humans. How have you enjoyed the tour of our great-kingdom?"
Flashbacks assaulted the prince's mind, trauma from Rima Regenon and her ability to overwhelm him, on top of the nightmare that fell upon his templar-corps. His mind, on the verge of breaking once more, could only seek refuge by recalling the memories and moments in which he shared with Daisy, and the baby that was safely within her belly.
Seeing as the man wasn't in the right state of mind to even argue against him in entertainment. Dacate kissed his teeth as he felt greatly annoyed. Was it not the winner's right to enjoy and relish in their victory?
"Mattew, Matrash. What have you two done to the poor soul? Why isn't he able to entertain me any longer?"
The two generals knelt before their king, before answering without delay.
"Your Majesty, we did as instructed. We gave the human a tour of our military-facilities, on top of our reproduction and training grounds. We educated the human in the speed and ability of our race's potent ability to multiply, and that of the speed in which our children grow."
"Did you present the man and his friends with front-row seats, when my mighty-army cooked and dined on the flesh of his warriors?"
"Yes! We did!"
"We ensured they stayed awake by whipping any human who refused to watch."
Dacate scratched his chin with one of his mightily long nails, one that was as long as a sword.
"I don't get it. They were honoured with death, to be consumed and absorbed, knowing that their strongest would be honoured in death by powering the even greater and stronger forces of my army." His lizard like eyes landed upon Dion, one of his strategists and the dekan in charge of intelligence. "Dion, your report mentioned that the races down south believed in glory and honour upon the battlefields no? Why isn't the man happy and rejoicing that his weaker and lower-species was actually useful towards us, the greater-species?"
Dion could only apologetically bow, as he equally scratched his own chin. Thinking back, the only facility the dekans hadn't bothered showing the humans were their farms.
With such a large population of warriors that required and ate much more meat than the everyday citizen would. Naturally the dekans were also very adventurous and open-minded about their diet. As such, they had farms and facilities that were jam-packed with goblins as if they were chickens. With nothing to do in captivity but to breed day-in and day-out, with their highly potent-seed that was equally flexible as it could fertilize eggs of all races. The unlucky races and species that were captured and utilized like cows or better said, like pigs. Were bred and farmed.
Without lucky or unlucky, due to their slower fertilization and growth speed, humanoid beings such as the humans, elves and dhans were exempt from such farming techniques.
However, even with such farms producing meat for her armies, the kingdom of Armenes weren't blessed with dekans who were intelligent enough in logistics and provisioning. As every single dekan desired greater feed, to empower their bodies.
..
Speaking to the absentminded prince, Dacate casually leaned backwards as his tail kept him upright like a chair would.
"The dhans once reported to us the usage of your colosseum. You deliberately trained and consumed the beasts and monsters that you bred and raised no? Didn't your generals and captain speak of the process as some holy-ritual, and that such lowly beasts were blessed to be nutrition that would power the greatest and strongest of your species?
I don't see the difference here? Do you not feel lucky? That your bodies may serve as high-quality ingredients that would make my armies stronger? So that I may better portray and deliver this continent to the heavens as a gift?"
Having worked his brains more than his muscles for minutes longer than he would like, the dekan-king threw such thoughts aside as he continued to observe his armies enjoy their feast.
"Whatever I guess, why would a dragon care of the thoughts and emotions of sheep."
As he got off his tail and turned towards his own meal, something wet splat upon his prided-tail. Turning his gaze around, a templar had spat upon him, defying the tyranny and dominance of such monsters.
"Fuck you you overgrown lizard, you consider yourself a dragon, but neigh! You're but a lizardman, something that belongs in swamps and and dirty-piss-water!"
Dacate's tail shot forward, piercing the man's steel-plated armour and the leather under it in a single thrust, before snatching the man's beating heart out. Plucking it before throwing it into his mouth as Dacate quickly bit down and enjoyed the essence like juice.
"Whilst a dragon wouldn't care of a sheep's thoughts, if said sheep dared to disturb a dragon's sleep, then there will only be death."
...
Forced to watch the ongoing feast, as elves, dark-elves, humans, goblins and beasts were cooked-alive and eaten. Istvan's heart could only swirl with rage, vowing to himself that if the opportunity ever presented itself, regardless of his survival, he would kill the king.
And whilst Victor appeared to have shrunken back into his soulless self, Istvan the ever loyal templar would pray for the man's wit and intelligence to come through. Believing the prince to be their only-hope.
kophzi Yeah, this chapter was really dark huh.
