There was little time for reflection. The guards saw Rogue clad in a black robe like the demons'. Their eyes reddened with rage, and they charged.

Their families and homes had all been destroyed by those demons.

They knew Rogue was likely powerful—charging in meant death—but fury clouded their minds. These men feared nothing.

Everything they cherished was gone. What meaning remained in this world?

One slash. Two slashes...

To the naked eye, Rogue’s movements were a blur. Only sword flashes gleamed. The guards seemed to impale themselves on his blade, halting mid-step as blood flowed and they collapsed.

No chance to resist.

In a blink, Rogue stood before Morihui and Lucy. Behind them sat a prison cart holding an elf.

The elf looked about Lilitha’s age, her state too horrifying to behold.

Grisly wounds covered her body. Her once-fair skin was withered and lifeless. Blood still dripped from multiple holes in her arms, as if her veins were nearly empty.

She was blind in one eye. The other stared hollowly, devoid of light, still as stagnant water.

Sensing a trace of Rogue’s elven aura, her single eye flickered. It pleaded silently—kill me.

Please.

*“The only valuable slave you’d want is that elf.”*

*“Pity she’s not as fun as a young dragon.”*

*“Noble race? Just lowly slaves!”*

Baili’s voice echoed in his ears. Cruel noble figures flashed before his eyes.

“Aaaah!” Morihui seized the moment, drawing his longsword and lunging. Rogue didn’t glance his way. With a slight arm flick, Morihui flew sideways, spewing blood until his head cracked against a rock and he passed out.

Beside him, Lucy’s eyes brimmed with terror. She worried for Morihui but froze, too scared to move.

Rogue strode to the cart. One slash severed the iron bars. Gently, he lifted the elf out. “I wish I could free you. But now... I can’t.”

Sorry.

A sorrowful thought echoed in Rogue’s heart. He was under watch again. Aria had ordered this elf returned. If he killed her, what then?

Rogue couldn’t afford to spare others.

Just like...

He glanced at Lucy.

These humans weren’t beyond saving. Morihui—grow stronger. Find the current Hero Squad. Then come to the Demon Lord Fortress with them to seek revenge on me.

While casting healing magic to ease the elf’s pain, Rogue returned to the castle. No.5 had finished its task, standing by his side. Its black robe dripped with a wet, non-rain liquid. Whatever it had done, it looked deeply satisfied.

“My lord, thank you for your rescue,” Ilidian approached, admiration in his eyes.

The castle lay nearly in ashes. Demons showed no restraint. Fields and huts burned fiercely. Corpses littered the ground and walls. Blood stained the earth crimson. Even the downpour couldn’t wash it clean.

This was the Demon Clan.

Bloodthirsty and brutal by nature, they left only scarlet in their wake.

Rain soaked Rogue as he exhaled. “Let’s go. Delay longer, and the human army arrives.”

“As you command.”

...

Rogue’s first trip from the Demon Lord Fortress to the surface mirrored Lilitha’s first separation from him in a month, locked in the warehouse.

Time rewound to his departure day. That night, Lilitha slept soundly—no thunder, no rain. Warm. Secure.

She dreamed: years later, she and Rogue returned to Dragon Isle, erecting a tombstone for her father.

Tears flowed. The dream shattered at dawn’s alarm. Rain still fell outside. The man who’d let her rest her head on his lap was gone.

The door suddenly swung open.

Lilitha’s eyes lit up. Instinctively, she cried, “Master!”

In Draconic.

But her gaze dimmed. It wasn’t Rogue. It was the tall, red creature she often saw—No.1, the one-eyed giant Master always named.

No.1 hauled in a wooden tub, poured steaming water inside, and placed bread on Rogue’s usual stool. Then it stood motionless by the door, watching her.

“This feels scary,” Lilitha murmured. She threw off her blanket, crawling up timidly. She eyed No.1 while approaching the tub.

Heat radiated from the water. Bubbles burst violently; thick steam rose.

She dipped a finger in and yanked it back. “Hiss! So hot!”

How could a dragon bathe in this?

Lilitha frowned inwardly. Rogue always set the water perfectly warm. Now...

My tail will cook...

She glanced cautiously at No.1, wanting to skip the bath for the bread. But as she shifted, No.1’s single eye glowed red.

Terrified, Lilitha ducked behind the tub.

No skipping. She read that from its stance.

After swallowing hard, she gritted her teeth and climbed in. Scalding water hit her skin—she screamed.

“My tail! My tail... wuwuwu, it burns!”

For the Dragon Clan, horns were most sensitive, then the thick tail—packed with tender spots. Tears streamed down her face.

No.1 only obeyed Rogue. The two-meter puppet merely tilted its head at her cries.

Lilitha didn’t notice silvery light unconsciously shimmering around the water—a Deity’s protection for the young Dragon King. It pierced Rogue’s anti-magic array in the warehouse.

By evening, the same scalding bath left her skin raw and throbbing.

Sleep brought thunder and rain. Daylight brought no warmth from No.1’s visits. Darkness pressed in, suffocating.

Oh, the water was warm—warm enough to cook a dragon.

Missed Master.

Curled in a corner under a blanket, Lilitha couldn’t sleep.

She knew the truth. Fallen to a slave, turned pet. Dragon Clan pride—her mother’s teachings—meant nothing now. A month had passed; her old life was gone.

A pet... was better than a slave, right?

Master was odd, but kind-hearted.

Dinner time again. Facing that hot water. Always hungry, yet for the first time, she hated eating.

“Bang!” The main door crashed open.

Lilitha shrank into the shadows. Then blinding light stunned her.

A weary-faced man forced a smile at the doorway. “Lilitha. I’m back.”