“Quite the welcome, I see.”

The fully cloaked man mutters on the back of his Warg as he finds himself and his companion being surrounded by thirty red-skinned Orc riders on their feral desert Wargs. The desert Orcs ready their weapons, their eyes don’t make any attempt to hide the desire to cause bloodshed and violence, and the only thing stopping them is the biggest Orc of the bunch, the one riding an equally big Warg filled with scars. He’s wearing a coat made of Warg’s fur, and has a belt made of the skulls of the people he killed, with no discrimination of races and factions. Though, even when facing such a dreadful individual, the mysterious cloaked man and his equally cloaked companion don’t seem to be affected by fear for their lives.

“I must say I’m quite enjoying your hospitality. Making a creature of the night like me wait in the desert while the sun is at its highest, then come up late with your armed servants, who also smell worse than the dogs they ride. I guess I expect nothing less from the dumb barbarians living in this shit hole of a continent.”

“Shut the hell up, Vampire! I’ll stick my axe up your ass and we’ll see who’s the one laughing in the end!”

Yells an Orc rider near the location of their big boss. Feeling insulted from the talking of the cloaked man, he orders his Warg to charge toward the Orcs’ supposed guests.

But he is too slow, the Orc in charge swings his axe and splits his rebellious underling into two halves. The feral Warg fails to realize the instant death of its master and continues to charge at the two cloaked men in front of it. The other cloaked man from behind takes out a dagger and throws it right at the Warg’s forehead, killing it in a blink of an eye before it has a chance to reach his boss who’s conducting the talk.

“Now this is the kind of scum I’m talking about! You savages are perfect for the task I have in mind!”

Says the cloaked vampire in excitement. The Orc leader is not going to just stand there and take insults to his face, he holds his bloodied axe out toward the vampire like a warning and says.

“Are you here to talk or to be slaughtered?”

“Huh, so now you’re interested in talking, Warband Leader Farkas. Very well, I’ll talk, I would hate to see you lay waste on another underling of yours. It won’t be good for the job I have in mind for you.”

Says the cloaked vampire.

“What are you suggesting?”

“Simply put, I want you and your Warband to join me and take over the Demon Realm!”

The Orc riders look at each other in confusion from the vampire’s proposal, they all look at their leader for guidance, and his response is…

“Convince me not to fix your mind with my axe by your head.”

“Do you know about the siege of Melas? I hope news can still travel even in this backwater shithole.”

“We know, and what of it?”

The vampire silently smirks under his cloak.

“Do you think the humans would brazenly made a surprise attack like that on their own? No! I helped them! I fed them the info I gathered on the demon army in hope for them to make a plan like that. And they did, how stupid of them! The aftermath of Melas ended in a stalemate, but soon after in the future, there will be another great battle between the demons and the Alliance. With my intervention, the battle’s outcome will put both the humans and demons at an disadvantage from any fighting afterward. That’s when we’ll strike!”

Invade a nation when the defenders are exhausted and the other invaders are unable to follow after, the vampire’s plan sounds good in theory, but the leader of a warband won’t simply put his warband in danger just because someone proposed an invasion plan to him.

“You are a traitor to the Demon Realm, what makes you think we can trust someone who backstabbed his own homeland like this?”

“Traitor? Hahaha, no, you’re wrong.”

The cloaked vampire chuckles.

“I’m not betraying the Demon Realm, I’m saving it from their blind obedience to that damn fool Dargoth.”

The Orcs’ faces change when the name 「Dargoth」 is brought up, even their level-headed Warband Leader. There’s a hidden rage within each of the Orcs living in the Arahas desert, and the name Dargoth is the keyword to lure it out of its shells.

“You seek to destroy the Demon Realm built by Dargoth?”

Asks the Warband Leader.

“Yes! Just look at it as it is right now, with humans roaming the land like they own the place, with a war so pathetic it still going on and on without end and without anyone bothered enough to try and finish it for good. The demons mimic the humans, trade with the humans, acting like they are not human while trying to fight against those very humans. Such hypocrisy! And they all thank Dargoth for what they have become in the present day! The time has come for the exiled descendants of Belzaboul to return and prove to them what true demons really like!”

When Dargoth defeated the Original Seven demon lords, he allowed the former lords to serve under him, except for two. One was the necromancer Sanat, the Defier of Mortality, who rejected Dargoth’s proposal and went into hiding until his existence was lost to history, and the other was the cannibalistic Orc Belzaboul, the Butcher of Life, who Dargoth personally killed in their encounter of out disgust, and banished his loyal followers to this God forsaken desert. The exiled Orcs settled down here in the Arahas desert, and their descendants waited a thousand year for a chance to have their revenge, the chance offered by the vampire hiding under the cloak.

“Join me and lay waste your power onto those who banished you to this shithole. Destroy what you hate, pillage what you want, take back your rightful place as how a demon should be! I won’t pass up this chance if I am you.”

“But you are not me, and you are a fool to think we would simply charge in and fight the demons as your pawns because you mention Dargoth once.”

The warband leader replies.

“So, what’s stopping you?”

The vampire asks.

“The 100th Demon King, Bartolo.”

The one who brought the war to the shore of the Uestos continent, and also the one who lost it and found his land being slowly conquered, the current Demon King, the 100th Demon King, Bartolo.

“He was defeated by the late Hero Lida and her companions, even though he lived, the current Bartolo is simply a shell of his former self.”

The vampire seems annoyed the moment the name Bartolo is brought up.

“He is still a Demon King nonetheless. One word from him, and all the might of Eostre will unite to fight any enemy he desires. Your offer is tempting, but unless Bartolo is dead, you will have no forces coming from us for your ambition.”

The cloaked vampire falls silent, he seemingly doesn’t expect some barbarians to bring up a good point regarding his plan against the Demon Realm as a whole. Nonetheless, the vampire already has the exiled Orcs in his hands, he only has to do what they requested, and he will have a strong diversion for the real forces under his command.

“A temporary setback, but nothing that would break what was planned. Fine, I will take care of Bartolo, and once I’m done, I expect you and your warband to join in my rebellion.”

“Kill the Demon King, and we’ll talk.”

Warband Leader Farkas replies as he turns his Warg away from the vampire and his companion in preparation to depart, followed by his armed underlings. But before he has a chance to go, an Orc messenger riding on a tired Warg approaches him from afar. His face looks like he has seen hell and went back.

“Boss! Emergency news! It’s the Andras Warband!”

“What!? They dare attacking us during my absence? The guts of them! With this, they have sealed their destruction! Come, my Orcs! We will rip and tear them apart!”

Farkas suddenly yells out loud, followed by the battle cry of the Orcs under his leadership. Even though their morale and bloodlust is high, the messenger doesn’t seem to be relieved from successfully delivering the news, probably because he has yet to finish it.

“I’m afraid you’re too late, Boss…The Andras Warband has already been destroyed…by something else.”

…

With the lead of the messenger, the Orcs of the Farkas Warband follows after him to see the destruction of their rival warband with their own two eyes. By the time corpses of fallen Orcs and Warg carcasses start to appear on a trail like trash on the street, all the Orcs know they are near their destination. Even the cloaked vampire and his companion join in out of pure curiosity, considering their negotiation is already over.

And what the group find at the place where there’re still screams of the living is…a girl.

A girl, with long hair as red as the blood soaked on her nomadic outfit, also just as red as her bloodshot eyes filled with dread and terror. She’s walking on her two feet, slowly and steady, but it lacks anything that remotely resemble “willpower”. One can say she looks like a living zombie, aimlessly wandering the desert in search of something nobody knows about.

But can a mere zombie cause so much terror? How can a zombie make the trail of corpses left behind every steps she takes? But the terror in the eyes of the living Orc warriors seem to tell it’s the truth.

“Kill her! Kill that damn bitch to avenge your fallen brothers!”

Yells the biggest Orc of the group, who for some reason is the one standing the farthest away from the “zombie” girl, with the few orcs he has left protecting him at the front.

“Still a coward like always, heh, Andras?”

Warband Leader Farkas mumbles as he and his men stay hidden from sight to observe the slaughter ground, together with the vampire and his companion.

“Impossible…of all people, why is she here?”

For the first time since the secret meeting, the vampire’s companion speaks. The attention of the Orcs turns to the words of the cloaked assassin, as he seems to be the only one who has some idea of the thing destroying Andras’s men.

“You know who that is, my Knight?”

The vampire asks.

“I infiltrated Melas castle before the siege began to observe the outcome, I do not know who she is, but I am aware of what she is. That thing…is a flame dragon sealed beneath Melas castle. The same flame dragon even the Hero failed to defeat, and was also responsible for the destruction of the land around the castle by the end of the siege.”

The one dubbed Knight replies. All the Orcs fall into silent as they watch the dragon girl slowly walking toward their rivals.

“That is a dragon? Nonsense.”

Farkas comments out of sheer ignorance and arrogance. The Farkas Warband is the largest Orc warband in the Arahas desert, but the second one after them is the Andras Warband. He refuses to believe the rival he always seek for a chance to destroy is cowering in front of something that look just like a normal nomadic girl living in the steppe.

But the Orc leader is soon proven wrong as the final battle between Andras’s Orcs and the unknown girl starts to begin.

“Shoot her! Shoot the damn bitch!”

Andras orders. The Orcs in the front take out several crossbows, all of which seem to have superior design than the crossbows Farkas is aware of. Considering the existence of the several trashed caravans lying behind the trial of death, it’s rather obvious Andras has just returned from a trade with the merchants of Aurum city, which probably involved weapons dealing. There’s a good chance Andras would use his newly acquired crossbows to combat against Farkas’s own warband, if not for the appearance of the supposedly “dragon”.

“What are you waiting for? Hurry up and shoot her!”

After the Orcs finish loading their crossbows, they aim at the dragon girl and shoot her. It isn’t hard to hit a target who’s not even bother to dodge, and soon, the dragon girl is turned to a pin cushion consists of bolts, with her stomach, forehead, an eye, arms and legs being damaged. The bolts put a stop to her walk, and she just stands there, seemingly dies without falling down.

“So much for being a “Dragon”.”

Says Farkas as he gazes at the one who told him the story about the destructive flame dragon of Melas, but the one called Knight simply remains silent and let the dragon girl prove the truth by herself.

“Again and again…why can’t that damn bitch stay dead!?”

The dragon girl’s regeneration power kicks in, her healed flesh pushes away the bolts on their own, and the girl continues her path of carnage, starting with the Orcs trying to harm her.

“M-Men, charge!”

Under Andras’s order, the first and second row depart from their position and charge at the dragon girl with their axes held high. But the dragon girl no longer stays passive. The moment the Orcs approach her, the dragon girl strikes. Her arms move fast, dealing punches like a true martial artist master, but those who are keen on martial arts know this isn’t anything resembling an “art”. The dragon girl simply attacks with sheer force and speed fast enough to imitate martial art, but no matter what they are, they still work. Heads blasted, torsos split, axes broken. Each punch she throws comes with a force so strong it destroy their body parts and leave barely anything remain aside from blood. Soon, the Orcs charging at her drop like flies flying toward a flame. Their bodies lie on the hot sand, while their blood join in to soak the dragon girl’s clothing, like the blood of many before them.

And the dragon girl continues her walk toward the remaining Orcs, slowly, but surely.

“What are you waiting for!? Kill that bitch, or I’ll kill you cowardly bastards!”

Andras yells without realizing he has sealed his own doom, as the Orcs under his command turn on him and outright murder their leader. The wrath of the Orcs reserved to face the dragon girl is now directed at their former leader. Andras has his head cut, his body split in half, his Warg stolen by the fastest Orc who has his hands on it. The remaining Orcs throw his remains to the sand near the dragon girl in a plea of forgiveness as they run away before taking their turn to be killed by her. But the dragon girl ignores the useless Orc corpse and presses on her aimless journey, in the line between sanity and madness.

“And the Andras Warband is done for. Have some Orcs salvage the remains of his caravans, the rest return to the base with me and gather our force. Andras is gone, but his territories still remain, and we will make them ours!”

Yells Farkas as he orders his men to do what’s natural for the Orcs living in the Arahas desert. The weak die, and the strong consume them to continue their fight. What is savage for others is normal to them, and not even a stray dragon can change that.

With Farkas and his men gone, the only people remaining here are the vampire and his assassin companion, who’s still watching the dragon girl wandering off in search of something in the vast Arahas desert.

“We should go as well, King.”

Says the cloaked assassin, but he is in for a surprise as the one he claimed as “King” has pull off the gloves protecting his hands from the sunlight. He holds his hands toward the wandering dragon girl from afar, almost as if trying to catch her with his scorched hands from the light of the sun.

“Beautiful…!”

Says the vampire in excitement.

“At long last, I have finally found a worthy woman to be my Queen!. My heart raced as she mercilessly tore those Orcs apart. Such strength and beauty. So cruel and savage. This is the power of a true demon! A one of a kind, befitting to be my destined Queen! To think I would find you in this forsaken desert…the whims of fate is indeed cruel!”

The vampire puts his hands back to the gloves before they melt away from sunlight exposure, he commands his Warg to turns back without any further suggestion from his assassin companion, despite the whole charade earlier to the one he deems beffting as his dream girl.

“But our time to meet has yet to come, my dear. However, our destiny will soon align together, and I will come to claim you as my own, my future Queen.”

The vampire rides his Warg away from the desert of corpses, together with his companion. And soon, silence returns to the desert as the sand consumes the leftover of the carnage earlier, like it has always been doing since the birth of the Arahas desert.