The Lord Who Levels Up by Devouring - Chapter 91

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com

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Chapter 91. The Continent in Turmoil (2)
A Hidden Quest materialized before my eyes.
…What could I even say? I was at a loss for words.
All that escaped my lips was: “This bastard is insane.”
I waved my hand dismissively, scattering the text before me into nothingness.
Of course, I had no intention of accepting it.
The Quest had been forced upon me, yes.
But whether I completed it or not—that was my decision alone.
Perhaps it sensed my unwavering resolve.
==[I shall claim her for myself]==
[Objective] – Kiss Isolde!
[Reward] – Isolde’s Disposition Change
[Failure] – No Penalty
The Hidden Quest text that appeared again had its reward altered.
It seemed the previous reward was merely part of some theatrical flourish—
‘No matter how I look at it, this thing seems to possess consciousness.’
At this point, I could say with near certainty.
I still didn’t understand the mechanism by which Quests operated.
But it was becoming clear that some ‘entity’ existed that granted these Quests.
Regardless.
‘I won’t do it.’
Even with the altered reward, I had not the slightest inclination to complete this Quest.
The problem wasn’t the [Reward]—it was the [Objective] itself.
Was I truly mad enough to carry this out?
Was I feigning madness just to chase completion experience points?
That would be genuine insanity.
Besides, Hidden Quests didn’t grant completion experience anyway.
I waved my hand again, scattering the text before me once more.
Yet the Quest text continued to clutter my vision relentlessly.
I kept dispersing the words as I made my way toward the gathering place where all the Visters of Violess, including the Black Grasp, had assembled.
* * *
What had once been Violess’s Town Square.
Thousands of Visters had congregated there.
They milled about, each bearing different banners and weapons, their voices rising in a cacophony.
Through the throng of thousands, a single man advanced slowly forward.
Black hair and crimson eyes—that was him.
…Yet something felt wrong.
No sound emanated from him whatsoever.
The man’s footsteps were measured and deliberate.
And yet, as if sound itself could not keep pace, not a whisper escaped from him.
As the wind swept past, the man’s long black coat billowed silently—so soundless that it seemed as though darkness itself had taken form.
The man ascended the highest platform, standing before thousands of Vister members.
His gaze swept slowly across the crowd.
That single glance silenced the murmuring chaos.
“From this moment forward, you will follow me to a new place and begin anew.”
And his voice, commanding and absolute, reverberated through the assembly.
An oppressive aura emanated from the man as he looked down upon the Vister members.
“If anyone has objections, step forward now.”
Not a single soul moved.
Yet the Vister members began to exchange glances and murmur amongst themselves.
Then, one of them spoke hesitantly—
“Um… Patriarch.”
“What.”
“Honestly, why should we follow that bastard?”
“That’s right. Why should we follow someone whose name we don’t even know?”
“That dark-haired fool looks absolutely repugnant.”
At that, the Vister members began voicing their grievances, their voices rising.
Discontent spread like a plague, rippling outward.
It began to escalate as though a riot were about to erupt.
Yet Sarpedon, the Patriarch of the Black Grasp, remained utterly indifferent—
“So?”
“Pardon?”
“So what? You want to defy him?”
“At least we should try to resist, shouldn’t we—”
“Hey.”
“Yes.”
“Are you an idiot?”
“…Pardon?”
“Don’t the parasites living inside your body tell you to shut your mouth?”
“What do you mean by that…?”
“If you want to live, keep your damn mouth shut, you moron!”
Crack!
“Damn blockhead. Did you not see what happened to Lyla of the Crimson Soiree when she defied him?”
“…”
“And it wasn’t just Lyla. There were hundreds of Vister members from the Crimson Soiree. What happened to all of them?”
They all died.
It took only three minutes.
Precisely, it took less than three minutes.
Of course, the number of Vister members gathered here was in the thousands.
Overwhelming in sheer numbers, yet Sarpedon knew better.
If trolls gathered, they might manage to hunt an ogre or two.
But no matter how many trolls assembled into an army, they could never hunt a dragon.
“Above all, have you forgotten who slayed that colossal beast? Even a goldfish would remember that, you bastard.”
“Of course I know that, but…”
“You know and yet you still spout such nonsense?”
“Then wouldn’t it be better to just follow that pretty woman over there?”
Crack—!!
“The way this son of a bitch thinks is pathetic! So that was your real goal all along?”
Thwack—!
“There’s a limit to how much your head can be ruled by your crotch!”
Smack!
“Your mother spent her whole life trying to find even one good thing about you!”
Thwack! Smack!
“And you call yourself my son? What kind of nonsense is this? Why can’t you just follow that pretty woman?”
“Ah, ow! P-please stop hitting me!”
“Stop? Like hell! You deserve to die, you worthless dog!!”
Smack!
“Don’t you see what happened to Lyla because of that pretty woman you speak of? That woman you’re so enamored with wanted us all dead!”
Thwack—!
“She’s the one saving us. She’s the one taking us in. How can you not understand that, you thick-skulled idiot!”
Crack-thwack!
“Lord Sarpedon! You’ll kill the boy!”
“I’m beating him because if I don’t, we’ll all be dead!”
“L-Lord Sarpedon!!”
Only with the Vister members’ desperate pleas did Sarpedon finally regain his composure.
Sarpedon snorted and exhaled rough, ragged breaths—
“If you don’t want your brains scrambled, shut your mouths and do exactly what she says. Understood?”
“…Yes.”
The Vister members of Violess could only obey, offering no words or resistance.
* * *
The commotion erupted suddenly.
It intensified further, transforming into chaos.
But I did not intervene.
‘Intimidating them a bit should suffice.’
In truth, I had considered killing most of the Vister members here.
The Vister—thugs who brawled constantly, day in and day out.
They were vicious criminals with habits that died hard.
Could I possibly bring such creatures to the Whitewolf Territory?
In other words, to train and rehabilitate them as part of the Allied Forces, they needed to be broken first.
Above all, taking them in did not mean forgiving the Vister.
I was merely offering an ‘opportunity’ that could change everything.
In other words, either they would cross the line like Vister’s subordinates from the Crimson Soiree.
Or they would climb their way up desperately, and I would kill them without mercy—.
Was it because of the effect of the title 【Sovereign of the Underworld】? The success rate of negotiation, intimidation, and persuasion increased by [+250%].
—Die! Die, you thick-headed bastard!!
—Ugh, u-ugh!
They were crawling on the ground of their own accord—.
‘I could leave right now.’
It seemed fine to take them directly to the Whitewolf Territory and train them immediately.
* * *
The rumor that the Lawless City, Violess, had vanished.
The rumor that spread through Caravana quickly expanded and struck the entire Continent.
“The Saint herself stepped forward to resolve it….”
“Now I understand why she is praised as the greatest Saint of all time!”
“Long live the Saint!!”
“Long live the Holy Kingdom!!”
Now, wherever one went on the Continent, praise for the Saint, Isolde, and the Holy Kingdom never ceased.
But nowhere, and by no one.
Was the name Adrian ever mentioned—.
The Grand Duke of the Irongard Kingdom, Gerasmir.
Gerasmir was a Master’s knight called the ‘Incarnation of the Sword’ and a heroic figure of the Irongard Kingdom.
In his youth, he displayed overwhelming prowess and governing ability against the barbarians who invaded the kingdom.
He saved the kingdom from crisis and received the title of Grand Duke in recognition of his achievements.
And he had a precious daughter, Amelia—.
Recently, Amelia suddenly went missing.
And a letter arrived addressed to Gerasmir—.
[Help the internal rebellion. Otherwise, your daughter’s life is forfeit.]
From that day on, each day was agony for Gerasmir.
Gerasmir as a father who wished to protect his daughter.
Gerasmir as the kingdom’s knight and Grand Duke of the people.
Whichever I chose.
It was certain that an eternal wound would be carved into my soul.
The agonizing conflict weighed heavily on my chest, and just as my gaze and heart were about to turn toward the blade’s edge—.
“Your Grace!!”
The butler burst through the door into Gerasmir’s office.
“Outside—! You must go outside right now!!”
Gerasmir’s brow twitched.
He cast his gaze beyond the office window.
Beyond the panorama of the duchy visible through the window.
The Castle Gate of the ducal castle opened, and someone appeared.
Tattered, shabby clothing.
Hair disheveled in places.
The grimy appearance made it impossible to recognize the face itself—
“Amelia…?”
Gerasmir leaped directly out the window without hesitation.
Despite the height of dozens of meters, he paid it no mind.
Crash!
The tremendous impact upon landing instantly drew all eyes to the scene—
“Father…!!”
“Is it truly you… have you really returned…?”
His voice trembled.
Faint tears glistened at the corners of Gerasmir’s eyes.
Overwhelming emotion surged within him.
Gerasmir embraced Amelia tightly, tears streaming down his face.
Through his fingertips, he felt the delicate frame of his daughter.
Only then could Gerasmir truly comprehend that his daughter had returned.
“What has happened… where have you been all this time…!”
“Well, actually…”
Afterward, I learned the truth of the incident from Amelia.
The rumors currently sweeping across the Continent.
I came to realize that those rumors held truth—
“We have received an immense debt of gratitude from the Holy Kingdom.”
“…No, that’s not right.”
Yet Amelia spoke of something different from the rumors.
“The one who saved me was not the Saint.”
“What do you mean by that.”
“The Saint did help me. However…”
Amelia swallowed once before continuing.
“The one who truly helped me was someone else.”
“Who was it.”
“That is… they did not reveal their name, so I do not know who they were…”
Amelia closed her eyes gently as if recalling that moment.
And perhaps the terror and nightmares of that day came flooding back.
Amelia’s body trembled visibly.
“You need not force yourself to remember.”
“No, that’s not it.”
Yet Amelia summoned her courage—
“A man with… crimson eyes and black hair.”
And was able to recall what happened then.
Neither his name nor his face known, yet possessing the uncommon black hair rarely seen across the Continent.
Gerasmir etched the information about his benefactor deeply into his mind.
But that wasn’t all.
Most of the slaves and paupers in Violess had no connections to speak of.
Yet very occasionally.
Truly, once in a blue moon.
It would turn out they were hidden children of prestigious noble families.
Or they had been exiled under false accusations of treason, only to have their names cleared.
Or they were the last bloodline of a royal house.
Fairy tale stories unfolded with surprising frequency—.
“My lady—! My lady has returned!!”
“The young master is—!”
“Madam!! Madam!! Please, wake up!!!”
Nobles returning to their houses, members of royal families reclaimed.
As they safely returned and The Continent didn’t merely stir but became an ocean of tears—.
“A dark-haired man saved me—.”
“I didn’t see his face, but he had an air of nobility….”
“A dark-haired man—.”
Among those who knew the truth, rumors of the “dark-haired man” spread quietly, almost imperceptibly.
* * *
Long ago.
There existed beings in darkness who grew stronger by coveting human dreams and desires.
Nightmares.
The female form of Nightmare: Succubus.
The male form of Nightmare: Incubus.
But Nightmares had no physical form and could not conceive children of their own.
Thus, the Nightmare would transform into a Succubus to extract the essence from human men.
Then transform back into an Incubus to use that extracted essence to impregnate human women.
The genetic material of the offspring was entirely human, yet through this process, the Nightmare’s aura intervened, and a new race was born—.
Cambion.
The bastard offspring of Nightmare and humanity.
They possessed the power to seduce humans and absorb their essence, just as their Nightmare parents did.
By absorbing people’s essence, they displayed extraordinary abilities.
They rose to prominence easily, yet their demonic blood made their wicked nature all the more pronounced.
But in the distant past.
Just as a wolf or two from a pack might cheerfully come to rely on humans, giving birth to the species called “dog”—.
Some Cambions no longer wished to be bound by greed and desire.
They abandoned their survival methods based on physical seduction and lust, yearning instead to live in harmony.
They developed the power and ability they once used to manipulate human dreams and desires into communion with nature.
Through this, they discovered the dreams nature dreamed—the existence of spirits.
Through contracts with spirits, they purified their own nature, and ultimately were reborn as a new race in harmony with the great natural world—.
It was the birth of a new race: the Elves.
Through the power of spirits, the Elves were able to completely shed their survival instincts rooted in physical temptation and carnal desire.
Yet they inherited the enchantress’s beautiful visage and captivating form in their entirety.
Elves became a race of extraordinary beauty by human aesthetic standards, and since they no longer drained the vitality from mortals—
humans exploited them as sex slaves regardless of gender.
Eventually, the Elves retreated into the forests to escape humanity.
Many centuries passed since Elves and humans severed their ties—
Sylvandir Forest, the Elven homeland nestled deep within the mountain ranges, faded from human memory.
Shrouded in the mist of spirits, Sylvandir Forest had never permitted outsiders to approach.
Colossal trees that had lived for centuries gleamed with an emerald radiance—
and between those luminous giants, delicate vines descended like nature’s own ornaments, wrapping the entire forest in an ethereal tapestry of wonder.
“Guardian! Guardian!”
A sentinel Elf knocked urgently upon the Guardian’s tree—
“The singing wind has brought word—Silmarien, who was lost, has returned!”
Rielin, the Guardian of the forest, sprang to her feet at once.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com

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