This Lich is a Better Landlord

Chapter 126: The Boy Who Worshipped Dragons

The desolate cawing of crows echoed through the sky.

A flock of them formed a black cloud, hovering over the square outside the castle.

These feathered vermin were waiting for dinner.

On the blood-soaked square, the executioner wore a black leather hood. His bare torso was painted with grotesque patterns in fresh blood—tattoos praising malice and brutality, masterpieces of the devils of hell.

Ragged slaves were dragged before the executioner one by one.

Gouging out eyes, cutting off tongues, deboning, hamstringing... The executioner inflicted various tortures upon these slaves according to his whims.

The screams were the best background music; they only excited the executioner further, making his movements even more cruel and unbridled.

Most of the slaves died wailing. Their blood seeped into the ground, filling a terrifying magic circle, while their tormented souls were devoured by a bloody shadow floating above.

This was the sacrificial ritual the Cerberus Family had been conducting for a long time.

There are many lords of the Nine Hells, but the Cerberus Family worshipped the Dragon Goddess of Avernus, the first layer of Hell—Tiamat.

Tiamat's true form was a colossal chromatic dragon. Legend had it that she possessed five dragon heads, and it was rumored that all chromatic dragons in the world were her descendants.

However, because the Cerberus Family had been hiding in the City of Alchemy, lingering on with their last breath, they were despised by Tiamat. They weren't even qualified to display the five-headed dragon crest of this Hell Lord, forcing them to use the humiliating three-headed dog, the Cerberus, as a substitute.

Only now did they dare to openly display Tiamat's five-headed dragon crest again.

Because the times had changed.

This family wouldn't have dared to conduct such a sacrifice with such fanfare while the Alchemists' Council still existed. After all, the City of Alchemy was one of the very few nations that permitted the worship of Hell.

But the moment the City of Alchemy was suddenly destroyed, the Cerberus Family knew their turning point had arrived.

Anyone could foresee that with the destruction of the City of Alchemy, the entire kingdom would fall into chaos, inevitably leading to large-scale war. And war was a hotbed of pain and torture, the best gift for Hell.

Masses of slaves were sacrificed to open the Gates of Hell for the Hell Lord, summoning infernal monsters.

After doing all this, the Cerberus Family finally felt vindicated and regained Tiamat's favor.

However, they were also well aware that the family was facing a major crisis. The plan to intercept the Elven diplomatic mission had failed, the Hell Gate was destroyed, and a pile of cannon fodder had been sacrificed in vain. Not only had they failed to stop the peace talks, meaning the chaos in the City of Alchemy might end prematurely, but they also had to deal with the impending retaliation from the Elves.

Therefore, the Cerberus Family had to put all their eggs in one basket and intensify the sacrifice.

Taking advantage of the chaos, the Cerberus Family had captured many prisoners, intending to sacrifice them all at once.

Cruel massacres like this had been going on for two days, but the results didn't seem very promising.

Although Tiamat was a Hell Lord, she wasn't the type of devil obsessed with torture and sadism. She was the Mother of Dragons and preferred power and authority.

The Cerberus Family's previous operations—expanding territory, plundering the population, and inciting war for profit—were all behaviors Tiamat liked, so her rewards had been generous.

But after the assassination failure, the Cerberus Family could only produce this bloody and brutal sacrifice, leaving Tiamat somewhat uninterested.

Although tormented souls were hard currency in Hell, such crude and simple actions failed to excite the Dragon Goddess.

However, the Cerberus Family had no other choice. They had to do whatever it took to strengthen themselves to deal with the potential retaliation.

This wasn't an act of desperation born of panic, for the Cerberus Family had produced a genius who was not far from the Legendary rank. Tiamat's previous blessings had been funneled into this genius, leaving him just one step away from becoming a Legend. If this sacrifice could be completed successfully, this genius would ascend to Legendary status.

A single Legend might not be able to withstand the Elven army, but a Legend was enough to protect a few elites of the family, allowing them to start over elsewhere.

Running away when you can't win was never a problem for people like the Cerberus Family who worshipped Hell.

However, for the captives and slaves being sacrificed, this was the greatest tragedy on earth.

Among the captives, a young child, his legs shackled, moved with difficulty.

He was different from the other numb captives. He kept his head down, hiding the anger in his eyes, his mouth opening and closing incessantly as he prayed in the quietest voice possible.

He was reciting the prayers of The Lord of Dawn, which he had learned not long ago from a Paladin named Starlight.

This boy was Geronimo.

Geronimo's luck was truly terrible, far worse than when he was chosen by Starlight to be a secret weapon against Ambrose. His talent was so outstanding that even the Paladin Starlight marveled at it, having already decided to take him back as an apprentice after the war.

But because Ambrose didn't play by the rules—as a Demon King character, he didn't wait in his castle for the protagonist of justice to come on a crusade, but instead personally ambushed the protagonist—Geronimo's first chance to cross social classes vanished just like that. He became a nobody serf again, forgotten in the City of Alchemy, with no one caring about him.

But Geronimo did not give up. He remembered the teachings of The Lord of Dawn: "Thou shall perfect thyself, never be proud or complacent; thy body and mind shall be fertile, remaining cautious and brave in the face of danger; thou shall uphold justice and live towards death."

Because of these inspiring teachings, Geronimo led the serfs who hadn't completely despaired to join the Ryan Empire's side in the final battle of the City of Alchemy.

Geronimo led these weak mortals, assisted the Paladins in opening the city gates, helped the trapped humans, and sent them out of the City of Alchemy.

It could be said that as long as Geronimo survived and made it to the Ryan Empire, his future would be limitless.

But his luck was truly bad. In the final battle, he was critically injured and fell into a coma, and his teammates died at the hands of other undead before they could tend to him.

That battle was too chaotic; even the Paladins suffered heavy casualties. The charge of the Headless Knight Gareth destroyed large sections of the district, burying the unconscious Geronimo under rubble.

By the time Geronimo woke up, he was buried deep underground.

Even worse, his right hand was crushed by debris, the bones broken.

He used almost all his strength to crawl out, only to see endless ruins. The Paladins were long gone.

Helpless, Geronimo could only hastily bandage his arm and look for a way out.

The destruction of the City of Alchemy had plunged the land into chaos. Geronimo was just an injured serf, and young at that; surviving was already difficult.

After hiding for a few days, the plan to catch up with the Ryan army was completely thrown out of his mind. He had to figure out how to survive first.

In the end, Geronimo fainted from a fever. When he woke up again, he was locked in a cell by the Cerberus Family.

And now, he was being pushed toward the high platform, walking step by step toward that cruel executioner.

The prayers in Geronimo's mouth had not stopped. He kept reciting everything Starlight had taught him. This method used to summon celestial warriors formed of Holy Light, but now, no matter how hard Geronimo tried, the Holy Light gave no response.

The more anxious Geronimo became, the more garbled the prayers got, until he accidentally bit his tongue.

The piercing pain made his whole body tremble. He stopped walking, and the whip behind him cracked.

Looking at the approaching high platform, Geronimo finally couldn't help but say, "Holy Light! Aren't you supposed to protect your believers?! I did everything according to your words! Is it all a lie?!"

These words were heard by the executioner, causing him to laugh loudly.

"A brat who believes in the Holy Light? I'll make your death even more miserable."

The executioner grabbed Geronimo by the hair, dragged his small body onto the high platform, and then picked up a skinning knife. He said to him, "Kid, you believe in the Holy Light, right? Let me peel the skin off your back first and make you a pair of angel wings."

Geronimo didn't even have time to struggle before sharp pain came from his back. The keen skinning knife had already sliced open his skin, cutting away his flesh bit by bit.

Geronimo screamed in agony, but this didn't soften the executioner's heart in the slightest.

The brutal sacrifice continued. Within the torture, Geronimo gradually lost his sanity.

What Holy Light? What Lord of Dawn? What life of a true human... It was all fake. It was all a lie. Those hypocritical Paladins ran away and left him behind. They said if he survived the war, he could have a new life.

He tried so hard to survive, so where was the Holy Light?!

His weak body couldn't withstand the torture. In moments, he was gasping for air, his consciousness blurring.

On the verge of death, Geronimo seemed to see a two-headed crow land in front of him. One of its heads was bald, just like Geronimo, skinned.

This ugly, ferocious crow pecked at Geronimo's eyes with its sharp beak.

Geronimo felt a sharp pain in his eye, and his right eye lost its sight completely.

The boy, who had only half a breath left, didn't know where he found the strength. He reached out, grabbed the two-headed crow that was eating his eye, and shoved it into his mouth.

If he was going to die, he would drag this beast down with him!

He gulped down the filthy blood. It felt as if molten lava had been injected into Geronimo's battered body. The searing pain made him convulse.

But his fierce will before death overcame all the pain, actually causing Geronimo's consciousness to gradually clear.

A long-sealed memory flooded his mind.

It was a story his mother had read to him when he was little.

In the story, there was a race that worshipped giant dragons. They mimicked the roar of dragons, creating a unique language. Whenever they spoke this language, they would gain power like that of a dragon.

They were the remnants of the Demon Dragon era. They were the survivors of the Pre-Civilization. They were—the Cult of the Dragon.

Syllables that seemed to come from ancient times spilled from Geronimo's mouth. On this continent, the roar of a dragon resounded once again.

Above the sky, the demonic shadow preparing to devour souls paused, staring at the dying boy with surprise.

The Dragon Goddess Tiamat heard this desperate dragon roar.

The executioner didn't know what had happened. He thought the strange sound was just the child's dying groan. He was preparing to peel out the spine bit by bit to make a terrifying flesh sculpture, but suddenly, he found his arm uncontrollable.

The arm holding the boning knife felt like metal attracted to a magnet, pressing uncontrollably against Geronimo's wound.

Immediately after, sharp fleshy tendrils grew out of the bloody wound. These tendrils, like sharp teeth, firmly bit onto the executioner's arm and began to tear wildly.

Flesh was stripped, bones were broken. The executioner screamed in agony.

But no matter how he struggled, he couldn't break free from this eerie backlash.

Every wound on Geronimo's body turned into a mouth full of sharp teeth. His body twisted exaggeratedly, wrapping around the executioner as if he had no bones.

The executioner's screams stopped quickly because his body had been torn to pieces and swallowed by those terrifying mouths.

After eating the executioner, the monster covered in mouths made a sound of twisting flesh and bones, then reformed into a human shape.

Geronimo stood on the bloody high platform, looking at his hands in disbelief.

On his palms, on his arms... those mouths full of sharp teeth were constantly opening and closing. His body seemed to be composed of these sharp mouths—so terrifying, so disgusting... but also so powerful.

Geronimo bent down, and a few seconds later, unable to hold it in any longer, burst into maniacal laughter.

"Hahaha! Hahahaha! Screw the Holy Light! My faith should be the Dragon! I am the dragon that soars in the sky and devours everything!"

With Geronimo's roar, the skinned flesh on his back grew wildly, turning into a pair of crimson membranous bone wings, just like a dragon's.

With a powerful flap of the blood wings, Geronimo took flight, rushing toward the members of the Cerberus Family.

Flesh and blood splattered. The boy turned evil dragon would return all the pain to the world.