Moraxor, accepting the validity of Asher’s question, proceeded to nod in agreement, “Indeed, one cannot continually partake of the Elixir of the Ancients, which was also not infinite in amount. A single drop is the limit, anything beyond that, and the overwhelming energy would ravage our mortal bodies. Even absorbing that single drop would take great effort and precaution to make sure your body doesn’t get destroyed,” Moraxor declared, his tone imbued with an echo of reverence for the potent substance.
He still could remember the way his body rumbled when he absorbed the drop of the elixir during his younger years.
He continued, his eyes glazed, as if reaching back into the annals of his people’s history, “But as if the Devils themselves had answered our desperate prayers, we began to receive quests limited to the confines of the Forbidden Waters. These quests were called ‘Restricted Quests’. Most of them involved killing the Cursed Wraiths or gathering of resources from areas fraught with danger. The rewards were far from bountiful, even if the difficulty level was high, yet they provided just enough life crystals for us to sustain our existence and let the weaker ones among us increase their strength slowly without depending on the Elixir since our ancestors knew it would one day dry up. At least this was proof that the Devils didn’t want our race to be nothing but a memory…” Moraxor said with a hint of reverence in his eyes.
Asher blinked his eyes in surprise, “Restricted Quests? And you people gained the rewards by killing creatures living in the same realm as ours. How astonishing…” He turned towards Rowena and asked, “Isn’t this similar to how young beasts receive quests within the same world they live in, where they have to kill or get something from a hostile territory?” Asher knew that magical beasts, be it the demon or the human world, do get and take part in quests just like them, some of which do involve only beast versus beast.
He did remember killing an adolescent dragon during his life as a Hunter.
But he never came across any powerful ones since they were multiple times older than him and had no need to take part in quests unless their Master wanted them to, if they had one. For instance, a dragon like Flaralis was surely at its peak and would take part in quests only if Rowena ordered it to.
However, some beasts who innately don’t have much intelligence, especially during their young age when they are solely relying on their instincts, only receive quests similar to Restricted Quests.
They keep receiving it until they were intelligent enough to know how to make use of their life crystals to survive and get stronger.
When it comes to higher intelligent demons or humans, these quests don’t come into play since the mana circuit only fully develops after a few years, whereas most beasts were born with fully developed mana circuits.
Rowena nodded to Asher, “Yes. Restricted Quests are quite unheard of among people like us, but they have been mentioned briefly in our historical records. They usually come into play when someone or a group is forcibly confined to a specific location for a long time without letting them teleport to take any quests.”
Asher nodded as he realized that this was similar to how Rowena made sure he wouldn’t take any quests by sealing off his room the first day he awakened.
He knew this was basically done by isolating his room using Sealing Magic to prevent him from teleporting.
A spark of realization ignited in Asher’s eyes as he turned towards Moraxor, his words reflecting a newfound understanding, “You and your people’s deep-seated loathing for the Cursed Wraiths is understandable,” he began, his voice reverberating in the hallowed space, “Yet, their existence may have inadvertently been a blessing in disguise your ancestors needed to endure. Had the Wraiths not been there, the quests might have forced your people into a much crueler predicament: murdering each other for survival. Regardless of whether they chose to participate or not, their fate would’ve been sealed all the quicker.”
Asher realized this just now, but this made him wonder why the Devils would purposefully put out such cruel quests. What was their objective? Or was it that they just had a sadistic nature?
Whatever it was, he knew this question was above his league.
The implicit suggestion in Asher’s words that luck rather than divine intervention had contributed to their survival seemed to strike a dissonant chord in Moraxor.
His beliefs firmly entrenched in the benevolence of the Devils towards their race, Moraxor could not easily digest this perspective.
However, his face remained composed, not revealing the simmering indignation within.
He returned Asher’s gaze, his voice taking on an uppish, matter-of-fact tone, “One may choose to interpret our survival as they wish,” he said, a slight edge in his voice, “However, we firmly believe that we endured and prevailed not out of sheer luck, but because we were favored by the Devils themselves. The Prophecy of the Ancients serves as a sign of their protection…A prophecy written by the Master of those Devils, etched onto a cold stone in the very same cave. It is still present there even to this day.”
Hearing Moraxor mention the prophecy, Asher scoffed as his voice held a barely concealed contempt, “The very prophecy that led you to offer up your own child as a sacrifice? For a prediction that never even came to fruition?” His gaze was sharp, cutting through Moraxor’s poised facade like a dagger, not expecting Asher’s sudden biting remarks.
Rowena’s brows knitted in consternation as she noted the subtle yet sharp shift in Asher’s aura.
Moraxor’s eyes fell, the challenge in Asher’s tone making his breath hitch in his throat.𝑜𝑽xt.𝗇t
But Asher wasn’t finished. He leaned in, his cold gaze never leaving Moraxor as he continued, “What kind of father does that to their child? Did you condition her as a child, molding her into your perfect sacrificial lamb?” A bitter laugh escaped him as he added, “Even beasts wouldn’t be as twisted to do this to their own offspring.”
Moraxor felt the words hit him like a barrage, each one a piercing strike against his heart. His fists clenched under the table, knuckles turning white from the effort.
He wanted to lash out, to refute Asher’s mocking words, but the words stuck in his throat. He knew there was some truth in Asher’s words, and that realization only made his heart even more heavy.
“Did you even love her, or was it all a lie to fool her into doing it? Or maybe a few sentences etched onto a stone was more important to you,” Asher asked, remembering how concerned Moraxor was about Isola’s safety.
“It wasn’t a lie!” Moraxor suddenly lashed out as he banged his hand on the table, causing it to shatter into a thousand pieces, though Moraxor immediately gathered his energy to not let any of the pieces fall on Rowena or Asher since he quickly remembered his situation.
He regretted lashing out, but Asher’s final sentence just cracked something within him. Even if he had cultivated a lot of patience as a king, this struck him deeply.
Rowena’s eyes held confusion and worry, taken aback by Asher’s suddenly provoking Moraxor and seeing his cold smile.
She softly looked at him, indirectly wanting to know if something was wrong.
She had rarely seen such a side of his where he suddenly seemed cold, distant, and unfamiliar. The only time she felt this was the day he first woke up. She also was confused, wondering why Asher cared so much about Moraxor’s belief in the prophecy. It also seemed that Asher looked down on prophecies, making her not know what to think.
Feeling Rowena’s gentle touch, Asher snapped back from his simmering rage within him.
He turned his gaze to meet her concerned eyes, offering her a soft smile that never fully reached his own. There was an apology in that smile, and a silent reassurance that all was well, despite the sharp, unexpected words that had just left his lips.
He let out a slow, measured sigh, as if releasing the pent-up anger that had momentarily consumed him.
Inwardly, he chastised himself for allowing his emotions to take the reins, especially for wanting to see the look on Moraxor’s face after the colossal failure of a prophecy he and his people had so devotedly believed in.
This made him realize that he was too eager to see the shocked and regretful faces of the treacherous snakes that had stabbed him in the back in his previous life, upon finding out he was still alive.
He wanted to know how they all, especially Aira, would react upon realizing that the prophecy they believed in blindly was all for nothing.
This anticipation had, inadvertently, fueled his heated words against Moraxor. But he knew that day of reckoning would have to wait, stowed away in the recesses of his heart for now.
Still, Moraxor’s reaction gave him a grim satisfaction he never expected to feel.
With a swift but noticeable change in demeanor, Moraxor steadied his emotions, “I apologize for my rudeness,” He then looked at Asher with a firm yet wistful gaze, “I understand the weight of my actions,” he spoke in a resolute tone, “But I have no intention to justify my deeds to anyone, save for my daughter.”
Asher simply flicked his hand in a nonchalant gesture, his words breezy, “You can forget that I said anything,” Asher truly couldn’t care about Moraxor’s motivations.
With the tension in the room dissipating, Rowena decided it was high time to steer the conversation back to practical matters.
Her fixed gaze found Moraxor, “Let us move on to how you people are going to offer reparations for starting this war.”
Moraxor’s expression became taut as Rowena continued with a steely gaze, “We have already decided that your people will offer a certain percentage of their collective life crystal earnings to our kingdom to start off. Think of it as a tribute, a recompense for the protection and stability we offer. But don’t forget we will set a minimum target of certain life crystals you and your people should collect. We won’t entertain any excuses or complaints,” Rowena spoke with an authority that left no room for argument.
Asher watched the unfolding scene with a subtle smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He knew well that this move would expedite the recovery of their kingdom’s losses and help rebuild their strength, especially with all these numbers of a powerful race.
Moreover, the introduction of an unknown yet fearsome race like the Umbralfiends would surely rattle the realm of Earth.
Moraxor took a deep breath as he absorbed what he just heard as he knew that the demanded tribute wouldn’t be a trifle amount and would likely take a toll on his people.
However, despite all this, he was willing to let his people have a chance on the surface world rather than the darkness they had lived their entire lives in.