The Red Dragon Just Wants To Do As It Pleases

A few minutes later, David followed Attilicia, who wore a complex expression, to a cruciform tombstone overgrown with vines and moss, and then he was dumbstruck.

The tombstone recounted the heroic deeds of a Barbarian Warrior from the Gloomy Region, who had slain enemies on all sides and covered his comrades' retreat.

Although it was written in the common tongue, the flashy letters and forms told David right away that it was the work of the Drow.

He could even imagine that, more than likely, it was composed by Drow Mages and then directly carved with a dagger by Hiatt, the Shadow Dancer.

After all, these two Drow couldn't escape their inherently evil nature, but the Barbarian had laid down his life to save them from a siege.

It wouldn't reduce them to tears of gratitude, but since the man was dead, arranging a somewhat decent funeral and erecting a reasonably dignified tombstone was the least they could do.

But this simple act left David feeling completely numb.

Not only was the Barbarian buried, but the grass on his grave was already three inches tall.

It's clearly still autumn!

Could it be that these guys even hired a Druid to come over and conduct a beautification project for the grave?

Belatedly, he asked, "How long was I lying there?"

"A year," Attilicia answered expressionlessly.

"A year!?" David reacted as though a mother Dragon had stepped on his cloaca.

"Ah? What did you think?" Attilicia responded lightly.

Seemingly realizing that his son's main concern was not about him, he felt somewhat relieved but also a faint sense of loss, appearing rather dazed.

Originally, he had been somewhat concerned about how much David had witnessed of his lamentable behavior—so extreme he had nearly committed suicide to accompany him in death.

But after their conversation, he was completely overwhelmed by another shock:

His son, barely seven years old, had already obtained divinity and become a Demigod?

Could that be possible?

Impossible!

Within the scope of his understanding, such a thing simply could not happen!

After all, even a genius as formidable as Crimson Calamity Pafila is only a Legend now.

There are, after all, only a few paths to demigodhood:

Either be elevated by an existing deity and granted divinity;

Or obtain divinity through rituals or by signing pacts with angels or Demons;

Or possibly gain a portion of divinity through Divine Artifacts or relics;

Or inherit or seize the divinity of existing gods.

But this last option requires extremely specific conditions, such as the Time of Troubles that once occurred on the Toriel Plane, where mortals could possibly wrest divinity by defeating or killing a divine being in its mortal avatar form.

Aside from these possibilities, the only other path is self-advancement.

In some very rare cases, mortals might ascend to divinity through self-improvement and perfection. They would gradually enhance their soul and abilities through meditation, study, and training to ultimately reach the realm of the divine.

But such a process often requires hundreds of years, or even longer.

This point alone virtually eliminates the possibility for short-lived races like humans to achieve divinity through self-realization.

Yet, this has always been the necessary path for generations of powerhouses who have climbed the divine ladder on their own.

Utterly baffled, Attilicia's mind was in a complete fog.

At this moment, only by maintaining a poker face and an air of calm could he hope to mask his utter confusion.

However, calm as he was, David was not.

"Damn it! Let's pack up and get back quickly. If Tania discovers I've run away from home for over a year, she'll go mad with worry!"

Hearing this, David turned, ready to leave, seemingly completely forgetting the Barbarian's solitary grave behind him, the grass rustling in the autumn breeze.

Attilicia immediately soothed him with an air of having already made arrangements. "You don't have to worry too much about your sister. I've already sent Hiatt with Ahmed by ship back to the Old Continent. As for Tania, we'll say you've been temporarily studying Alchemy in the territory of the Duke of Silver."

"Oh," David breathed a sigh of relief, then quickly asked, "Has the war between the High Elves and the Drow started yet?"

Attilicia, fully aware of the kind of twisted thoughts his Red Dragon son harbored, looked at him askance, his eyes filled with a complex mix of emotions. "Not yet. You obliterated half of the Drogsin Spider Nest City, the Drow holy land. For the past year, the Drow have been busy with power struggles, each attempting to earn the recognition of the Spider Queen and become the rightful successor. It'll take them at least four or five years to recover their strength. With things as they are, what do they have to fight the High Elves with?"

"Oh..." David said, somewhat disappointed.

"But without the threat of the Drow, Elf King Ailiando has been active with numerous policies and decrees this year. He is eager to reclaim the excessive powers held by various nobles and weaken regional forces, which has caused considerable backlash everywhere. This Elf King, perhaps having been suppressed for too long, is now acting too aggressively. In my opinion, it won't be long before... even without a Drow invasion, the High Elves themselves will likely erupt into civil war."

"Ah?"

David was stunned, then smacked the ground with his tail in delight. "That's great if they start fighting!"

Without a war between those long-eared Elves, how would he, David, make money?

But thinking about it, he found it ironic—as soon as external pressure vanished, the internal structure began to collapse on its own.

However, noticing his Silver Dragon father's expression darken slightly, he coughed twice. "Ahem. Among those opposing nobles, isn't Her Highness Mirillian Elizabeth, the Duchess of the Silver Wheel—your, erm, *friend* of many years—among them?"

Attilicia opened his mouth, then admitted, "Yes. Don't you think that while the Elf King's actions are understandable, they're somewhat excessive?"

"I don't know about other nobles, but the territory of the Duchess of the Silver Wheel has been fought for and cultivated inch by inch by the Scalia family since their ancestors."

"For so many years, they have defended the southern border for Dewensen, protecting it against incursions from the humans rising in the south of Central Earth. Don't they at least deserve credit for their hard work, if not their achievements?"

"On what grounds can he just revoke their right to collect taxes?"

"If he revokes tax rights, does that mean he'll revoke their rights to autonomous trade and military power next?"

"And once military rights are revoked, will he revoke the lord's right to self-governance?"

"If self-governance is revoked..."

David hurriedly stopped him from continuing his tirade. "Stop, stop, stop! Don't say any more, you're right! That Elf King Ailiando is just a long-haired fool with no foresight! Him, proclaim himself emperor? Pshaw!"

"Eh? You've also noticed his ambition to turn all of Dewensen into an empire?"

Attilicia suddenly saw his ignorant Red Dragon son in a new light.

"Ah? Isn't that the case?" David was also somewhat puzzled.

Isn't that how it always goes in the history books? Except for some phenomenal, ruthless emperors who appear out of nowhere, those who try this rarely meet a good end.

"That's not the main point. What I find most unacceptable is that Ailiando actually wants his foolish son to marry Elizabeth! Can you tolerate that?"

David tried hard to recall, finally remembering the Elf princess whom he had angered so much she had run away in tears on the spot.

He immediately lowered his voice and asked sneakily, "Isn't that a good thing? Wouldn't that make you an Earl, or even a Duke, overnight?"

"Ptui! Do I, a Silver Dragon, covet a noble title from the High Elves?"

Attilicia had just refuted him when he processed David's peculiar logic and became infuriated. "Hey, wait a second! How did it become about me getting a title? What in the world goes on in that Red Dragon head of yours all day! My relationship with Mirillian is pure! And Elizabeth is not my daughter!"

"Ah, right, right," David said, too lazy to argue. Then he heard his father continue:

"Mirillian and I have agreed to marry Elizabeth to you!"

"Ah?" David instantly erupted in Wrath, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. "On what grounds?! Did you even ask for my consent?"

"Is Elizabeth not beautiful enough?" Attilicia suddenly asked.

"Beautiful," David's tone immediately softened; he was telling the truth.

"Is young Elizabeth's figure not good enough?" the Silver Dragon father continued his interrogation.

"Curvy in all the right places."

"Is Elizabeth not rich enough?"

"A bona fide heiress."

"Then why the hell are you still opposed!"

True enough, David mused, rubbing his chin as he pondered seriously. Then, belatedly realizing, he roared in Wrath, "How can those be the same thing? If you asked those three questions about my mother, Pafila, wouldn't the answers be the same? Then why are you still hiding like a turtle in the New Continent for so long, not daring to go back and even glance at her!"

The Silver Dragon father was immediately pierced by this accusation. In her Drow form, she jumped to her feet and screamed, "How can that be the same thing? She completely violated my free will! I was forced!"

SLAP!

David immediately pinned the Drow-form Attilicia to the ground with a paw.

In his Drow form, he was no match for David in strength.

This familiar scene immediately brought back an unbearable memory from the seaside for Attilicia. Just as he was about to transform back into his true form and struggle with all his might, he heard David say, "See? You've arrived at the same answer as me, haven't you?"

Attilicia suddenly seemed to understand and stopped struggling. "...Indeed. I was inconsiderate. I apologize, and I won't bring it up again."

But that expression, as pure as a lotus emerging from mud yet utterly pitiable, immediately stunned David, and the force under his paw involuntarily grew a bit stronger.

"Ahh..." The Drow-form Attilicia couldn't help but let out a soft moan, tears of pain welling up in his eyes.

Then, as if realizing something, he turned his head away and said indignantly, "What are you doing? Release me right now."

"Ah... Oh, oh, oh."

For a moment, by the Barbarian's grave, father and son each averted their eyes guiltily.