Chapter 251: The Road To The Demon King

Apprentice, do you know what’s the first thing to do when you need to correct something wrong?

Is it to find what’s wrong?

No, it’s to admit that something is wrong.

『Excerpt from the British Museum Collection – Stele for a Young Dragon』

All progress comes with sacrifice.

In her memory, there was a sign at the entrance of the Tuskegee Institute that read this motto.

She wasn’t sure whether the motto reflected the research director’s dark sense of humor or was a candid confession of reality.

However, the research director perished in flames under the dragon’s hatred, and the motto remained only in her memory.

The first memory she could recall was the giant surgical saw coming toward her.

Her body, numb from anesthesia, didn’t feel any pain, but sometimes, there were things more terrifying than pain.

She could easily tell the surgical saw was cutting into her abdomen.

However, she didn’t realize that her liver, deep inside her belly, was being replaced with that of a giant, monstrous insect.

Soon after, a rejection reaction caused her nerves and heart to go into spasms. The researchers performing the surgery injected hormones as if it were nothing.

Then, once her gallbladder was replaced by that of the monster’s, her young body stopped resisting.

Please save me.

The researchers predicted that the substitute organs would give her the abilities of the monster.

Please save me.

If the results were good, they could mass-produce superhumans ahead of the commies.

Please save me.

The doctor wearing glasses inserted a syringe into her neck and said.

No, you have to survive.

She didn’t understand what that meant, so she kept thinking.

What does surviving mean?

And she kept thinking even after they sealed her split-open belly and placed her into a tank full of stabilizers.

She was a princess.

A princess because she was the only successful experiment amidst countless failures. Yet, she was a princess, not a queen, because the result was far from satisfactory.

The maggot princess.

That was the first name she received.

The first murder she remembered was a battle with another test subject. Unlike her, this one had limbs replaced instead of organs.

He was a perfected subject, able to strike with his claws even from 10 meters away, but he wasn’t a superhuman. His claws were meaningless in front of a swarm of maggots covering her body.

As he wheezed, the director in a white lab coat approached.

She said she couldn’t do it, even before being given an order.

The director didn’t heed her plea. After all, every progress requires sacrifice.

There was no such thing as an inevitable sacrifice. If success was not achieved, it simply meant there had not been enough sacrifice.

She didn’t know what a “commie” was.

She simply thought it was like calling a dark-skinned person “blackie”—that it referred to people with red skin.

But whatever a “commie” was, she hated them. Because whenever they succeeded at something, the research facility went into chaos.

They sent a human to outer space first. They created the first Earthian superhuman. First, first, first…

Those Soviet bastards have obtained the regenerative abilities of the monsters.

Thus, she had become a failure.

She survived until puberty.

The reason was simple—they had invested too much time and resources to discard her.

However, she only avoided being discarded, yet she no longer held value to them.

Even the researchers who regularly extracted her bile ignored her now. The facility’s attention had already shifted to another princess—a pearl-colored egg, far larger than a human body, incomparably more beautiful than the filthy floors of the research facility.

The Egg Princess.

She loved her new sister. She had to—otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to endure.

The Egg Princess was the only being in the world she could feel a connection with.

A sister who was pricked with needles and tortured by researchers every day.

She did anything she could for her sister.

She endured the large hose stuck into her stomach to extract bile, and she endured being stabbed for monster tissue samples.

The most memorable effort was fighting the “bad people” who tried to infiltrate and target her sister.

She protected her sister until her body was crushed beyond repair.

The research director was pleased to find her dying, as her maggots had killed a superhuman.

After that day, a special lesson was added to her daily routine—assassination with maggots.

The research director told her that if she killed just two high-ranking Soviet officials, they could recover the money invested in her.

And if they secured new funding, they could wake her sleeping sister, he whispered.

She didn’t know what funding or the Soviet Union was, but she readily fell for the research director’s temptation.

Because having her sister be born was a good thing.

She was given a false identity and sent outside the research facility, but she was still the Maggot Princess.

She killed many people.

Three revolutionaries in Cuba, one politician in Chile, seven reactionaries in Ecuador, three supply officers in Hilaria.

However, the research director did not keep his promise.

The Egg Princess still did not wake. Only the number of needle marks on her smooth shell increased.

The memory of that day was drenched in the smell of blood.

The blood of soldiers, the blood of researchers, the blood of test subjects.

A researcher, engulfed by maggots, flailed his arms and cursed her.

You betray the nation that fed and raised you! Aren’t you asham—Aaaagh!

She moved countless maggots to seal his mouth shut. His accusations were meaningless.

She had no nation.

She had only a sister.

Maggots swarmed through the filthy corridors of the research facility. The soldiers, armed with mere guns, were no match.

As she had been taught, she killed, and killed, and killed.

She felt neither guilt nor the satisfaction of revenge.

Every endeavor required sacrifice, and her sister’s right to be born was more important than their right to live.

As soon as she arrived at the central research chamber where her sister was, a voice thundered through the corridor.

Filthy insect bitch, you should’ve been disposed of ages ago.

The Security Chief—the superhuman protector of the facility.

Kill the princess first! Just like the Hive Queen, if you take out the core, the maggots are nothing!

There weren’t just one or two superhumans—there were three. They charged into the swarm of maggots with full confidence.

But she didn’t care.

The Maggot Princess crawled along the floor—only her left arm out of her limbs remained.

As her blood trailed across the ground, she looked up at her sister, encased in thick security and experimental equipment.

And she cried.

She cried because she was too late. She cried as she stared at the punctured egg.

She cried for the sister who would never be born. She cried because she was the only one left to mourn a sister who had no form.

You crazy bitch. You did this all just because of a damn egg?

Having burned all the maggots to ashes, the Security Chief ground his teeth as he approached her.

Losing two well-raised superhumans had left him seething with rage.

If I’d known, I would’ve taught you basic science first. Any idiot knows an egg that’s lost its internal nutrients can’t hatch. You stupid bitch.

He stomped on her head, pressing down slowly, as if to let her savor the approach of death.

Instead of fearing death, the Maggot Princess spent her last moments apologizing to her sister.

And she kept apologizing—until the colossal skeletal dragon descended upon the research facility.

…Pushing aside the scattered memories that surfaced, Rashik stared at Yeomyeong.

How the hell did he know the name “Maggot Princess”? No matter how hard she thought, she couldn’t understand.

Was he someone connected to the Tuskegee research? That couldn’t be. He wasn’t American.

And there was even less of a chance that Kahal Magdu had told him old stories.

Dragons guarded their words as fiercely as their pride.

“…Stop stalling and answer me. Where did you hear the name ‘Maggot Princess’?”

Yeomyeong didn’t answer right away.

He quietly looked down at his sword as if organizing his thoughts, then placed a light hand on the blade before speaking.

“Why traditional alchemy, of all things? If you are after money and fame, wouldn’t it have been better to join a modern pharmaceutical company?”

The response had nothing to do with her question, but Rashik couldn’t call it out.

Because the next words that followed stabbed straight into her heart.

“If I had to guess… Kahal Magdu couldn’t revive its daughter through necromancy. After all, something that was never born in the first place can’t be brought back to life.”

“…”

“But with alchemy? Who knows. Just like homunculus can be created from a man’s semen, maybe a new life could be made from a small trace.”

The moment Yeomyeong finished speaking, Rashik instinctively summoned the maggots.

And in the next instant, the countless maggots that had been sleeping for decades beneath the underground black market, below the underground workshop, all awoke at the princess’s call.

Immediately, her long-dormant assassin’s brain kicked into gear. But against the man who had killed Kahal Magdu, she saw no path to victory.

What about assassination? Impossible. As long as the Saintess was present, the poison maggots were nothing more than a swarm of ordinary maggots.

She might be able to leave an indelible wound.

However, in return, everything she had worked for to revive her sister would be reduced to nothing.

“…Fuck.”

Rashik’s fist trembled with rage as she glared at Yeomyeong. Gold flickered in her pink eyes, tainted by the monster’s bile.

Golden eyes—just like those of the unknown swordsman who had tracked her from beyond the Dimensional Portal.

“Your guess is… disgustingly accurate. Should I give you a round of applause?”

“No.”

“…Then let’s go back to the beginning. How exactly did you find out about me?”

Instead of answering, Yeomyeong turned slightly to look at the Saintess. What? What about the Saintess?

Rashik’s eyebrows furrowed as Yeomyeong whispered softly.

“The Saintess can see the future.”

“…”

“A year from now, you’ll join forces with the Church of the Apocalypse and raid Lord Howe Academy, introducing yourself as ‘Maggot Princess.’”

What kind of nonsense was this? Rashik licked her lips to cool her overheated mind. However, Yeomyeong continued speaking.

“For the rest of it… I just pieced it together from the way you insist on demanding my semen, the workshop with the homunculus creation equipment, and… this.”

Yeomyeong held up a small notebook—her research journal.

Rashik slightly pulled her head back.

“Did you grope the unconscious woman’s body?”

“…Not me. The Saintess.”

“…”

It was an unbelievable statement, but the world often works in ways that defy belief. After all, wasn’t the Saintess right here stealing?

Yeomyeong cleared his throat quietly and spoke.

“It’s hard to believe, right?”

“…Is my belief even important in this situation?”

“It is. Like I said before, I hope this meeting leads to a good connection.”

Yeomyeong’s tone was soft. It wasn’t the relaxed confidence of a stronger person but the self-assuredness that he could persuade her.

Rashik narrowed her eyes.

Having lived most of her life as a lab rat, assassin, and illegal alchemist, she couldn’t easily believe Yeomyeong’s words.

“Are you really serious with that cringy talk?”

Yeomyeong tilted his eyebrow slightly.

“Cringy, you said? I meant it seriously.”

“…?”

An awkward and somewhat absurd silence ensued.

The silence stretched on, but Rashik couldn’t find any signs of deceit from Yeomyeong.

Was he really sincere? Did such a freak also exist?

“…Just a moment ago, I poisoned you, and you cut off my limbs.”

“That’s right.”

“That’s right? What the hell? Even now, you guys are still robbing my workshop!”

Rashik shouted, and the Saintess, who had been packing potions into sacks, glanced back at her. Her expression was one of indifference.

Yeomyeong shrugged his shoulders.

“I’ll pay you when I leave. We’re just shopping around.”

“…”

“…Really.”

As Yeomyeong said this, he slightly clenched his palm, and a gold coin popped out from between his fingers.

Rashik rubbed her forehead. From start to finish, it felt like she had only been dragged along towards the direction he wanted.

No, could it be that this whole situation was planned from the beginning?

What a shitty situation.

She felt resentful toward Magdu, who left its heart with a guy like this. A damn skeletal dragon who lived however it wanted until it died.

“Ugh, I really don’t get it… Do you seriously trust me?”

“I want to believe.”

Right now, he was saying he didn’t trust her. On the contrary, that statement weighed heavily on Rashik’s heart.

“…Ha.”

With a deep sigh, she stopped the approaching maggots and covered her face with both hands.

“…This is fucked up.”

“…”

“The fact that I’m shaken by all this is so fucked up.” ”

Yeomyeong smiled quietly. Rashik growled as she saw the smile through the gaps in her fingers.

“Hey, how old are you?”

“…What?”

“Don’t Koreans care about age? I’ve probably been around twice as long as you, so why do you keep speaking informally to me?”

“…”

“Don’t talk informally and call me ‘big sister,’ damn it.”

Looking at Yeomyeong, who blinked in disbelief, Rashik was finally sure she had delivered a successful blow.