Chapter 39: The Forging of a New Dragonfeeder

As the onlookers held their breath, a longsword, almost the same height as Noah, absorbed the deathly black ray with its blade.

Then, the blade shimmered with white light, and Noah casually flicked it, a gesture as effortless as shaking dew from its surface.

Pure, harmless holy energy scattered into the air like innocuous grains of sand, vanishing without a trace.

The white glow on the exquisite blade then faded, leaving it to gleam once more like a masterwork of art.

This was none other than one of the three sacred artifacts wielded by Noah, the Saintess of Healing: the Sword of the Venerable Manifestor, the Sword of Azure Blood, the Sword of Untainted Purity, and the Sword of Bipolar Reversal.

This moon-forged demon sword, shimmering with starlight, bore the name “True World”.

“Ah…ah….”

Silvya’s voice grew fainter, her dying body disintegrating in layers; the flesh that had so painstakingly devoured countless dragon hearts now seemed unbearably fragile, capable of crumbling into dust with the gentlest touch.

Noah, holding the slender, exquisite demon sword, her delicate feet still suspended in the air within her fawnskin boots, advanced step by step towards Silvya’s half-destroyed form, resembling nothing less than a solemn and beautiful moon goddess.

“Why have you come? To mock me?”

Silvya attempted to force a bitter smile, but the mere movement of her lips caused them to disintegrate from the decay that consumed her from within, leaving her only able to produce a strained whisper from her parched vocal cords.

“You have won. I concede defeat completely. If there is anything you wish to say, speak it now.”

The sensation of death arrived precisely as anticipated.

Her body felt light and drained of strength, and only in these final moments did she finally release her tenacious obsession with power, replaced instead by a profound weariness and a sense of liberation.

She closed her eyes, bracing herself for what she expected to be the final, mocking words from her adversary.

She heard the girl before her release a long, drawn-out sigh.

“Oh, you truly are incorrigibly foolish.”

Noah’s voice was tinged with helplessness; on the girl’s otherwise unremarkable face, there was not a hint of the joy one might expect from a victor.

“If you were so determined to pursue strength, then to die here seems utterly pointless, does it not? Why did you choose this path?”

In response to Noah’s question, a touch of bitterness flickered in Silvya’s now empty eye sockets.

“It’s likely because there are still matters I cannot abandon.”

‘If she were to lose, what fate would befall her loyal soldiers and her people?’

‘They would surely be purged, every last one, wouldn’t they? For it was that cold-blooded, ruthless Demon King.’

“Mm-hmm, this brand of heroism—caring for your subordinates, forging ahead with unwavering resolve, and nobly embracing death—I don’t dislike it at all~.”

Noah nodded with a soft “mm-hmm,” then turned her gaze to Silvya, who was now unable to speak, only a fraction of her body remaining.

“Therefore, it would be an utter waste if you couldn’t be put to use by His Majesty the Demon King~.”

“?”

Before the dying Silvya could even begin to process Noah’s words, Noah pointed the tip of “True World” at Silvya’s chest.

As if time itself were rewinding, the parts of her body that had dissolved into ash began to reassemble, piecing themselves back into their original form.

“However, a simple rebirth would be far too uninteresting.

Your original body has absorbed an excessive number of mixed bloodlines and has already reached its absolute limit.

Thus, I intend to purify you, enabling you to ascend to even greater heights.”

A faint smirk played on Noah’s lips; her words were undeniably true.

Given the potential of Silvya’s demonic form, consuming a wyvern’s heart could be managed through time, suppressing the volatile energies.

However, ingesting the flesh and blood of a true dragon—especially *her* flesh and blood—would almost certainly lead to an explosive demise, utterly beyond her capacity to bear.

“Therefore, let us act as a blacksmith, taking an unformed iron billet, riddled with countless impurities, and forge it into a refined and pristine physical form~.”

“!? Eh? Wait!”

Silvya quickly cried out, only to abruptly realize that her vocal organs had been restored, and her voice, now clear and crisp, carried a distinctly youthful timbre.

Golden light coalesced.

Noah meticulously drew forth the purest dragon essence from the swirling energies, then infused her own magic into it, step by step completing the meticulous forging of Silvya’s new body.

An intricate alchemical matrix, as complex as the Tree of Qliphoth, coalesced upon Silvya’s form.

As the light receded, a diminutive body gently settled to the ground.

“Oh?”

The extraneous impurities, separated by Noah, coalesced into other objects, one of which—a black seed—particularly captured Noah’s attention.

‘She had a distinct feeling it was somewhat akin to the dark ray she had just absorbed… yet not entirely the same…’

Noah’s brow furrowed slightly; she could not discern its true nature.

“You, you, you…”

Silvya, her face aflame with crimson, stared at her now diminutive and pristine form.

Her former appearance as an adult woman was entirely gone, replaced instead by an adorable, flat-chested, blonde loli.

The turbidity and madness that had once clouded her gaze had completely vanished, leaving her golden dragon eyes utterly clear and pure.

Through her alchemy, Noah had purged all the accumulated impurities and toxins that had lingered within Silvya’s body from years of devouring flesh and blood.

The Silvya standing before them now was, one could argue, a complete embodiment of refinement, stripped of all dross, utterly reborn.

She could feel that while she had indeed lost a great deal, and most of her former abilities were no longer accessible, the fragments that remained were undeniably more potent.

Silvya gazed with a complex mix of emotions at her now diminutive hands and feet, ultimately letting out a sigh as she accepted this extraordinary reality.

“I have lost, Your Majesty the Demon King.

From this day forward, the people and the army of Dragon Chaser Territory shall dedicate themselves wholeheartedly to Your Majesty’s service.”

The newly reborn Silvya stood naked, her tender skin smooth as jade.

Her trusted aide stepped forward, draping their own coat over her shoulders.

Seizing the moment, Silvya dropped to one knee, bowing her head respectfully towards the throne, thereby declaring her unwavering loyalty.

“Indeed, I grant it.”

In response, Letitia offered a lazy, almost imperceptible nod, then casually dismissed the radiant hexagonal barrier, appearing utterly unsurprised by the outcome.

‘Could it be that all of this had been within the Demon King’s foresight?’

Silvya, having just witnessed Noah’s formidable power, broke into a cold sweat.

A sudden, chilling realization dawned upon her: how utterly presumptuous and overconfident her challenge to the Demon King had truly been.

“The soldiers who followed me here are all fiercely loyal.

I implore Your Majesty not to condemn them unduly; all responsibility for this transgression shall fall upon my shoulders alone.”

The more she pondered, the more her heart seized with dread.

Silvya lowered her head even further, desperately hoping to mitigate her monumental transgression, an act nearly equivalent to rebellion.

“It is of no consequence.

This King does not concern herself with such matters.”

To this, Letitia merely waved her hand dismissively, her eyes still closed, offering no further words.

Demons who successfully completed the Dark Pilgrimage inherently possessed the right to challenge the Royal Court Trials; this was a long-standing decree.

From that vantage point, Silvya had not, in fact, violated any established rules.

“However, your act of leading an army and illicitly breaching the Royal City without explicit permission constitutes a grave offense.

You are hereby fined three hundred thousand gold coins, commanded to surrender three-tenths of your territory’s tax revenue for the next five years, and two-tenths of your territory’s current reserves.

Furthermore, you are strictly forbidden from increasing any territorial taxes.”

“Furthermore, your private forces stationed outside the inner city shall be temporarily absorbed into the Demon King’s army, and you, yourself, are hereby confined to your residence in Irithyll for seven days, strictly forbidden from venturing outside.”

“Are you content with this judgment?”