Patunasankus sat up straight, curiously pulling back the carriage curtain. The dragon's dark vision easily made out the black figures gathering around.
Pale, bloodless skin, sharp fangs, eyes filled with bloodlust, the appearance of predators.
Patunasankus knew exactly what they were.
With that preserved-meat smell, there was no doubt—vampire thralls.
Undead creatures produced when vampires kill mortals, greedy creations filled with a vampire's thirst for fresh blood, simultaneously controlled by their vampire creators.
But she could clearly sense that both the black-robed figure blocking their way and the vampire thralls gathering around were very weak existences.
The evil dragon didn't take them seriously at all and had no intention of interfering.
She would leave it to the hero to handle, while taking the opportunity to see how strong she really was.
Patunasankus was looking forward to seeing the legendary strongest hero Loranhir in battle.
The hero stood center stage, the Heart of the Red Queen resounding in the silent night, while the evil dragon quietly observed from the carriage.
"Do you know who I am? Loranhir, the strongest hero?" Loranhir suppressed her inner panic, struggling to control the urge to flee in the carriage.
She knew very well that the carriage couldn't outrun them. Perhaps trying to intimidate them with her name as a hero might offer some chance.
"I know, of course I know of your strength," the black-robed figure said. "That's why I'm prepared to die in battle, fulfilling my duty to Grand Duke Dreka."
Loranhir hadn't even relaxed before she nearly lost her breath.
Fighting and killing was so unpleasant—couldn't they resolve this peacefully?
She was just trying to flee; who knew she would coincidentally catch up with the culprit who jumped out on his own!
And who or what was Grand Duke Dreka anyway?
She didn't understand.
"You all, stand down," Loranhir sighed, pretending to shake her head, her eyes calm as water, giving off a sense of unrivaled loneliness, as if sighing at her own invincibility.
"With this level of strength, you're not worth my effort."
"Hero, such a clumsy trick doesn't suit you," the black-robed figure sneered. "Your Heart of the Red Queen has been sounding non-stop. Are you planning to catch us all in one swoop when we lower our guard? Such shallow scheming."
Seemingly sensing the threat as well, the surrounding vampire thralls cautiously closed in.
Loranhir was terrified. There was no such thing as the Heart of the Red Queen; she was just so frightened that her heart wouldn't stop pounding. The opponent didn't believe she would let them go, and now her single-minded approach had led to a dead end.
Think quickly, how to get through this?
Impossible—these people were determined to die, and her reputation had no effect on them now!
What about the holy sword?
At a time like this, the holy sword should come to the rescue!
Loranhir remembered the fire poker hanging at her waist, put her hand on it, and pulled upward.
—It wouldn't budge.
Loranhir's expression grew serious as she tightly gripped the holy sword, remaining silent.
...She really didn't want to be a hero.
"Still not making your move, hero? Could it be you're giving us a chance to strike first? How arrogant. But if that's the case, I won't hold back." The black-robed figure nodded to the vampire thralls surrounding them.
The overgrown ground creaked with footsteps, and hearing this sound, Loranhir grew tense. Every shaking bush, every swaying shadow, made her heart race in fear.
She was so scared, her heart aching. Loranhir instinctively wanted to turn and run, until she unconsciously glanced back.
The curtain of the carriage behind her was slightly lifted, revealing a small head and a pair of blue eyes silently watching her. Perhaps due to the darkness, Patunasankus's blue eyes seemed even brighter.
Loranhir met Patunasankus's gaze.
The wind lifted her hair, revealing her face.
In the quiet night, how did her face appear in the princess's eyes?
Was she a coward, a complete fraud, someone without the strength to tie a chicken?
Or was she like ice, cold and fearless, outwardly appearing to be a hero?
Patunasankus narrowed her eyes.
Why are you looking at me? Why aren't you making a move yet? Could this person really be an incompetent fool?
Or has she already noticed something unusual about me and is deliberately acting? That's not impossible.
Such deep scheming.
The evil dragon felt a slight chill in her heart.
At this moment, Loranhir deeply hated herself—hated that she was just an ordinary person. How she wished she really was the invincible hero everyone spoke of, undefeated in the world, wielding a holy sword, protecting the princess.
...If only she really were a hero.
Loranhir tremblingly drew the best sword from the village.
"Decided to make your move? Not using the holy sword because you think we're not worthy?"
The black-robed figure was indignant but wary. Thinking of the hero's unfathomable strength, he felt increasingly uneasy, calculating whether to use some auxiliary spell to create a disturbance.
Are they finally going to fight?
Excitement made Patunasankus's cheeks flush redder as she observed from the shadows, her blue eyes growing brighter.
"I will not let you..."
"—Sleep spell." The black-robed figure silently uttered an incantation, experimentally using a low-level spell.
He thought the hero certainly wouldn't be affected so easily, but it was worth trying as a distraction to create an opening for attack.
As soon as the words fell, Loranhir felt drowsiness flooding through her, methodically permeating her entire body. The sword dropped from her hand, and she collapsed to the ground unconscious. In her last moment of awareness, her hand rested on the holy sword.
"...?" Patunasankus was stunned.
"...?" The black-robed figure and the surrounding vampire thralls were also stunned.
After a brief silence, they carefully examined Loranhir, and after cautious verification, they finally seemed to confirm something.
"A mortal?" The black-robed figure blushed, then let out a strange chuckle. "What's this? The strongest hero is just a mortal?!"
"Hehehe," the black-robed figure cruelly grinned at the grim-faced Patunasankus. "Princess, you're really unlucky to have encountered such an incompetent fool. Blame yourself for following the wrong person."
"Your previous good fortune ends here. It's a pity Grand Duke Dreka specifically named you for death; otherwise, a treasure like you that even the gods would envy—I'd rather like to turn you into a thrall."
"..."
Patunasankus coldly stepped out of the carriage, the cool moonlight pouring over her, adding a silver sheen to her beautiful golden hair. Her features were as delicate as a doll's, yet without a trace of expression.
She looked down at Loranhir, who was sound asleep on the ground. Though her movements were composed, her face gradually reddened.
Then the evil dragon kicked the hero hard.
This incompetent fool!
Patunasankus's face flushed with embarrassment, accompanied by a murderous intent born of humiliation.
At that moment, a light breeze passed by. The girl held the floral wreath on her head, recalling Loranhir's smile toward her, feeling both bewildered and irritated.
She'd keep her alive. At least she had some use.
If the hero died... the identity of Latifa Flandoya would certainly be wasted.
Although she planned to spare this incompetent hero's life, the anger she had suppressed for so long needed an outlet.
"...Turn me into a thrall?"
Patunasankus's lips curved slightly upward, forming a cute yet seductive and thoroughly evil arc. In the increasingly dense night, her pupils were unprecedentedly bright.
Her once azure eyes turned into an intense dark gold, as if magma flowed in their depths.
Patunasankus coldly looked at the thralls gathering around. The princess's appearance was so fragile, but at this moment, she looked like an emperor sitting on high.
The night was the vampire clan's domain, but so what?
There was no need to fear.
She was a dragon, an evil dragon soaring in the sky.
Powerful, majestic, the supreme and violent force that arrives with the fierce wind.
Under the dragon's might, the black-robed figure's hair instantly stood on end.
This... this isn't right, is it?