Clang! Clang! The rhythmic clang of hammer on anvil echoed through the cramped room—powerful, precise, weaving a bold, metallic melody.

For two full hours, the sound persisted. After one final, exhausted strike, silence fell.

“Huff! Alreis, bring me water!” Wude, the black-haired youth, ordered the girl dozing beside him.

“Ah—yes! Master!” Alreis jolted awake, then froze mid-step.

“No… wait! How could I?!” She clutched her head, disbelief flooding her.

Wude paused, a sly grin spreading. “Oh? Quite self-aware, aren’t we?”

“I-it’s just… the dream…” Alreis stammered, flustered.

“A dream? What kind?” Wude’s eyes gleamed with mischievous curiosity. Fatigue forgotten, his smile widened.

“Ah! I… uh…” Her face flushed crimson—like a boiled crab. Words tangled on her tongue.

“Hmm?” Wude leaned close to her ear, voice dropping.

“Confess willingly… or face the consequences. Don’t lie. I’ll know.”

“Eh?!” His whisper, gentle yet chilling, struck her like a demon’s murmur. She stumbled back two steps. “Y-you… are you the Demon King?”

The Demon King—a legend etched deep in every race’s memory. In the age of unity, he slaughtered gods, enslaved nations, ruled with merciless cruelty. Though he vanished, his terror endured.

Alreis, now an Ascendant Sovereign, had once sought his traces… and found nothing. Yet the name remained synonymous with dread.

“No long speeches,” Wude said calmly. “Choose: confess… or suffer the outcome. No lies.”

“W-what?!” Her bluff shattered. Trapped, she had no choice.

“W-well…” Cheeks burning, she recalled the dream. *How shameless am I?*

“And?”

“I… dreamt Master… pinned me to the bed… and… did… *that*…” Her voice faded to a whisper. Head bowed, steam seemed to rise from her. She dared not look up.

Wude froze. *Too much.* For a longtime singleton—practically a “‘mage’”—this was dangerously stimulating. A faint blush crept up his neck. Awkward silence.

After a breath, he recovered. *Good. She didn’t notice.*

He steadied himself, summoned his signature smirk.

“So, Alreis-chan,” he murmured against her ear, “you *want* to try it with your master?”

“N-no!” Confused by the “-chan,” she refused to yield. Surrender meant death.

Even as his warm breath tingled her ear, she dropped firmly to her knees.

“Master… please spare me.” Tears welled in her eyes—like an abandoned pup.

Here, kneeling held no shame. It was a solemn plea.

Two weeks had passed since Alreis became Wude’s slave. She’d learned: feign vulnerability, and he’d sigh, helpless.

Wude fell silent. *She’s found my weakness.* Adorable. Irresistible. Ban it? …But then he’d never see *this* again.

“Ugh.” He sighed. “Go. Water. I’m exhausted.”

“At once!” Alreis scrambled off. *He probably won’t do anything… probably.* His shift from earnest youth to this? Baffling.

Alone, Wude returned to the forge. Tweezers lifted the still-warm blade.

“No good. Sells for one silver coin. Barely covers materials.” Frowning, he rubbed his brow. Supporting two on savings? Unthinkable.

Currency here was simple: copper, silver, gold. Set by the Ascendant Sovereigns at 1:100. Thirty copper coins bought half a kilogram of lowest-grade “Dragon Pig” meat.

Wude knew: “Dragon Pig” tasted just like pork back home—just vastly larger. One copper coin ≈ one RMB. (Regional quirks aside.)

He eyed the blade—sharp enough for slaughter. *Sigh.*

“Argh! That woman! Taught me scraps of forging, vanished, dumped an Ascendant Sovereign on me—WHAT WAS SHE THINKING?!” He slammed a fist onto the hot forge. Pain flared. *Better.*

He didn’t see the tear tracing his cheek.

Nor sense Alreis’s spiritual energy, quietly watching… since the moment she stepped out.