Chapter 11

It had been half a year since Sakavi arrived in the Crimson Moon Plane, and his wounds were nearly healed—it was time to gather new vassals. This plane was called Crimson Moon because, no matter where you were, a blood-red moon hung in the sky.

Of course, Sakavi could not see it from the underground world where he now stood. During this time, Gop had thoroughly surveyed the surrounding area—it was time to subjugate vassals.

He chose first the nearest gray dwarves. Gray dwarves were a branch of the dwarves, originally of the same lineage, but after prolonged enslavement by mind flayers, they gradually forgot dwarven culture and faith.

After breaking free from mind flayer domination, they were further hardened by the influence of their guardian deity, Laduguer, becoming increasingly paranoid and cold-hearted. After the God of Assassins and Shadows, Dilorok, betrayed them, Laduguer’s influence waned, and the faith in the Deep Earth King rose in its place.

Under His influence, gray dwarves gradually settled into the sunless underground world. Even after Laduguer later reclaimed his place among the primary deities, he could not shake the new order beneath the earth.

But it didn’t matter what the gray dwarves worshipped—as long as they were useful. According to Gop’s reconnaissance, this gray dwarf village had one warrior capable of using an eighth-rank martial technique and one priest capable of casting a seventh-rank spell.

A fierce battle was unavoidable. Approaching the gray dwarf town, Sakavi ordered Gop to hold off the priest while he dealt with the warrior first, then come to his aid. Gop, currently a sixth-rank assassin, could easily stall a seventh-rank priest for a while.

“Roar! Listen, worms inside—submit or be destroyed.”

Under the crushing weight of the dragon’s aura, most gray dwarves collapsed instantly; even the advanced extraordinary warriors grew weak in the knees, trembling all over.

“Big lizard, this isn’t your place to rampage—leave now, or my grandfather Herrin Ironhelm will make you regret being born into this world.”

Sakavi didn’t waste words—he fired a water bullet. Herrin made no move to dodge, swinging his hammer to shatter it. Suddenly, a claw lashed toward his chest; just as it was about to strike, Herrin activated his martial technique and barely evaded it.

“Worm, your strength is impressive. Submit to me, and I’ll spare your life. What do you say?”

In response, Herrin unleashed a martial strike—powerful and heavy. It shattered Sakavi’s water shield, then kept driving downward, smashing the wall behind it. Before he could retract his great hammer, a steam bomb exploded suddenly against his chest. Even with his martial technique Steel Armor activated, he was blasted dozens of meters away.

At the spot where Herrin landed, sharp spikes erupted from the ground—but he smashed them with a single blow. Yet in those few seconds, three holes appeared in Herrin’s chest.

The gray dwarf warrior stared in disbelief at his wounds—he knew he was no match for the dragon. But he refused to surrender. With his last strength, he hurled his great hammer at the black dragon.

Sakavi ignored the warrior’s final attack and turned immediately to the priest’s battle—Gop was in dire straits.

A mid-rank fighting a high-rank opponent—even one rank lower—the gap was absurdly wide, and that was only because the assassin could vanish into the Shadow Realm.

Taking advantage of the gray dwarf priest’s distraction, Sakavi slapped his hand down and crushed his skull. In speed, no dragon had ever lost. The priest’s close-combat instincts were clearly inferior to the warrior’s—he had no time to dodge once danger struck.

With the two high-ranks eliminated, the rest of the gray dwarves posed no threat. Sakavi selected one who looked agreeable and appointed him priest, ordering him to lead the gray dwarves in switching their faith to the Deep Earth King. He made the strongest warrior their chieftain.

The primary deity Laduguer treated his followers as slaves—he would never look kindly on Sakavi. Dilorok bore him a grudge too. This matter was best left alone.

The only safe option left was the Deep Earth King. The gray dwarves only needed to know whose statue stood in their temple—they didn’t need to understand the treasure-obsessed deity.

After settling this matter, Sakavi immediately headed for the next target: the goliath war-fortress that had long cooperated with this gray dwarf town. Goliaths, also called bugbears, resembled goblins but had gray-white skin from living underground for generations.

Goliaths were more warlike and disciplined than ordinary goblins. But their high-end combat strength was weak—very few ever broke through to high rank.

Thus, they often wandered as mercenaries among various factions. Sakavi wanted this armed force—but had no intention of paying them.

The goliaths said no money meant no deal. But Sakavi offered an offer they couldn’t refuse: anyone who refused would be sacrificed to the War King Magrubi on the spot.

Brutal, but effective. After all the fortress’s high-ranking officers signed the contract, Sakavi declared: “Whoever’s troops desert the most—I’ll sacrifice them to Magrubi.”

With the dragon’s presence, the gray dwarves no longer feared for their safety and threw themselves fully into production—revenue even surpassed previous levels. While studying the “Withering Art,” Sakavi suddenly had an idea—he wanted to recruit several drow elves as scouts.

Enslaving drow elves was extremely difficult, for the Spider Queen Lo Si was famously vengeful. But for Sakavi, that was no obstacle. The drow were not united—besides Lo Si, there was the exiled one, Velon.

In hidden corners, His followers had never vanished—these were exactly who Sakavi needed. But finding them wasn’t easy, and even if found, they might not be willing to serve.

Rather than searching blindly like fishing in the ocean, it was better to go straight to Velon. He must know where His followers were. As a deity starved for believers, nothing was harder to refuse than a temple of His own. Velon would be no exception.

Acting at once, Sakavi ordered the gray dwarves to build a temple to Velon beside the old one, and place His statue inside—surely He couldn’t miss it. As expected, the moment offerings were placed, a voice echoed in Sakavi’s mind.

“Black dragon, what do you require of me?”

“Great Protector of the Exiled, Velon, I need to borrow your followers.”

“Apologies. For a black dragon with unstable power, I cannot let my followers risk allegiance to you. They are few—and each is precious!”

“They don’t need to come to me. When I need them, they must serve me.”

“Good. They will contact you themselves. Good luck, black dragon. Farewell!”

Several days later, several drow elves arrived—men and women, all formidable warriors. After Sakavi’s coaxing and deception, they eventually signed vassal contracts. Over the next month, he signed over thirty such contracts.

Thus, more than five hundred drow elf defectors within a thousand li came under his command. Clearly, building that temple was worth every effort.

If he could open a market on the surface for weapons, golden coins would flow endlessly into his pockets. Thinking of this, Sakavi instantly felt capable again. Once he reached adolescence, he would go to the surface to gather vassals.

With surface vassals, Sakavi would be both offensive and defensive. He set aside unrealistic dreams and focused on studying the “Withering Art,” using its data to craft a magical artifact suited to himself.

The greatest feature of the “Withering Art” was its detailed listing of all magical artifact parameters—each reader could adjust the data according to their own condition to create a unique artifact.

Sakavi crafted a singing goliath skull—but every song it sang was anything but harmless. With this artifact, combat became far easier, especially against warrior-types.