There was nothing particularly unusual about the texture of the object, yet with what little biological knowledge he possessed, Glenn could roughly conclude that it was certainly not a bezoar.

  After giving her contact information, Bloodaxe departed.

  Glenn first hid the treasure-stuffed bundle somewhere secure within his home, then began planning how to put this newfound fortune to use.

  ...

  On a ridge of black volcanic rock not far from Bayek, a thunderous impact shattered the silence.

  A section of the ridge caved inward as if struck by some colossal force, sending slabs of dark stone tumbling down the slope.

  The air distorted unnaturally—and then a massive crimson dragon materialized upon the ridge.

  Green patterns wound across its neck, radiating an aura distinctly different from that of ordinary dragons.

  "It’s here, somewhere nearby. I can feel it." Its thunderous voice made the ridge tremble, dislodging even more debris.

  It had been scouring this war-scarred battleground—where demons and humans once clashed—under the concealment of secret magic for a long time now. And it was certain: Blazing Fangs had not left Bartsey’s territory.

  But such a search was exhausting—and perilous.

  If discovered by the Kingdom of Zehn’s elite enforcement corps, its severed head might soon decorate the royal city’s gate.

  "But why? Why was the aura so terrifying? For a moment, I almost believed the Demon Dragon Atokanstin had risen again."

  That faint trace—the unmistakable scent of Blazing Fangs—had been detected hundreds of kilometers above, carried on the wind. Yet mingled within it was a terrifying miasma that nearly stopped the dragon’s heart.

  Its first thought had been of one of the ancient evils responsible for the continent’s Eighth World Catastrophe: the Cursed Demon Dragon.

  But the notion was quickly dismissed. Blazing Fangs’ unique scent was unmistakable, and although the miasma had been frightening, it did not come close to the legendary descriptions of a true Demon Dragon.

  Every world-level catastrophe had nearly extinguished life across the continent; even gods—the highest tier of existence—had fallen in such calamities.

  It was said that Atokanstin could battle three gods at once, and within its own domain was virtually immortal.

  Countless heroes rose in that age, and only through the unity of every race—even the demons—and the many machinations of the gods was that disaster finally subdued.

  Recalling these tales made the red dragon’s legs tremble.

  Could Blazing Fangs’ strange transformation be repeating the Demon Dragon’s path? Perhaps I should feign ignorance... but the demons would never be fooled.

  The dragon fell into a deep, agonizing dilemma.

  Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  Its unique gift was the ability to sense its own kin across vast distances—like an enormous dragon radar. Combined with its foul temperament, it was the perfect tool for demon operatives, who had specifically recruited it.

  Originally, it thought it would merely retrieve the corrupted creation of a deceased dragon ancestor—an easy job with a generous reward and no combat required.

  But matters had clearly spiraled beyond expectation.

  Lifting its head, it gazed toward the direction where Blazing Fangs’ aura had last emerged.

  It remembered that place clearly: a forest protected by some great and inscrutable presence. During its initial search, even from afar, the forest’s ominous aura had frightened it away.

  Now it was nearly certain—that Seventh-Tier werewolf was hiding somewhere within those woods.

  "Well, I’ve already found what they wanted. All that’s left is to deliver the news to the demons and find a place to hide. I should be safe."

  Clinging to this fragile optimism, the dragon cloaked itself once more and flew off.

  ...

  That day, Glenn traveled to Duder and sent the new fairy tale The Little Mermaid—written in Hopdo’s home—to the White Bird Publishing House by post.

  Soon, it would appear in the next volume of Glenn’s Fairy Tales on bookstore shelves.

  What he could not possibly imagine was that the story had already become wildly popular among upper-class young noblewomen.

  A tragic, tender love story—utterly irresistible to sentimental young ladies.

  Because of this, Glenn’s name had become a staple topic at noble balls and in the chatter of female students.

  But Glenn knew none of this. He was now riding his Great Stag cart from town to town.

  He had already decided how to spend his treasure: he would build a commercial empire of his own—a monumental undertaking.

  He needed a long-term plan, executing each idea in his mind step by careful step.

  At the moment, he was investigating which industry would be the best starting point.

  After a full day of work, Glenn finally returned to Duder and rested in his shop.

  For the time being, opening a restaurant or tavern seemed the most reliable choice. But taverns were far too common, and Glenn suspected it would take ages before he saw any real profit.

  As he pondered, his gaze instinctively drifted toward the bustling street outside the window.

  Duder’s crowds had returned to their pre-invasion levels—lively and full of noise.

  But after watching for a moment, Glenn noticed something unsettling.

  Many residents shared an eerily similar look in their eyes—something only Glenn could perceive.

  Thinking back on recent events, he quickly formed a theory.

  The God of Truth must have been preaching in the surrounding area, attempting to convert all the towns around Bayek into its own sanctified domain.

  Though he could not guess the deity’s intentions, Glenn had no intention of tolerating such unchecked intrusion any longer.

  He pulled out his magic phone and connected with Captain Daugherty. "Hello, Captain. I’d like to ask—if someone encounters an unregistered or unauthorized church preaching here in the kingdom, which department should they report it to?"

  Daugherty froze for a moment. Neither he nor his fellow officers had noticed a thing. The God of Truth had deliberately avoided all officials; those successfully converted would never speak of the church, and those who resisted were immediately 'corrected' by the missionaries the moment they showed signs of reporting them.

  "That would be the Knight's Temple. Why are you asking? Did you encounter a cult?" The captain’s voice held cautious suspicion.

  "Something like that. Please contact the Knight's Temple immediately. There are many missionaries from the Church of Truth in Duder. It seems they intend to transform the entire town into a sanctuary of their faith."

  "What!?" Daugherty exclaimed. "How did I not notice anything!?"

  "Hurry. They’re clearly avoiding all of you. And once they succeed, who knows what happens next. You can’t possibly handle this alone."

  Glenn spoke calmly as he continued observing the situation outside.