The Villainous Son Loves His Mother - Chapter 57

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A black dragon landed on the wasteland in front of the fortress.
Though it resembled a dragon, it was merely a massive quantity of black liquid coalescing into the shape of one. It possessed none of the inherent power, wisdom, or majesty of a true dragon species. Only pure, unadulterated horror emanated from its form.
On the dragon’s back stood a boy—Hein.
Surveying the fortress garrison with a disdainful gaze from his perch, Hein lightly leaped down from the dragon’s back.

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A particularly well-built man stepped forward and raised one hand as if to stop the other soldiers.
A knight of the great demon race, the black horns extending from the sides of his head made his ferocious appearance stand out even more.
The knight glared at Hein and shouted, “Who are you?” but received no response.
Though the boy appeared human, the knight sensed an inexplicable, unsettling aura emanating from him.
It was as if a colossal eye were gazing down from the heavens, a gaze from an unfathomable being scrutinizing them.

“Could it be… you’re the Hero…?”

He asked again, growling.
Yet Hein remained silent, ignoring the knight and merely tilting his chin slightly upward.
Irritated by this gesture, the ogre knight was about to press his inquiry when Hein suddenly spoke.

“Your head…”

Simultaneously, he raised his hand—and then, as he whispered, “Too high,” he brought it crashing down.
A devastating shockwave erupted across the wasteland, instantly slamming most of the Demon defenders to the ground.

“Gwaaaaaah…!”

Countless death cries shook the air as over half the charging soldiers were reduced to crimson stains.
The sickening sounds of bones shattering and crushed organs mingling with the mud echoed through the air.
Flesh fragments splattered across the ground, glistening wetly as bodily fluids and bl00d spread, steaming.
The Great Ogre Knight barely managed to stay on his knees, gasping for air with a choked groan.
His once-imposing armor was cracked in several places, and, worse, one of his horns, a symbol of his race’s pride, had been snapped off.
His face was beyond pale, resembling that of a lifeless corpse.
Cold sweat poured from his skin, trickling down beneath his armor like tiny streams.
A few soldiers around him had barely escaped being completely “mangled,” but every one of them bore severe injuries.
Groans rose from all sides, but none could stand.

“Hmm, unscathed, are you?”

Hein murmured, looking down at the Great Ogre Knight with a hint of satisfaction.

“Well done.”

Even hearing that, the knight seemed to be struggling to maintain his breathing.

“From what I can see, you’re probably about knee-high to Gaddem—the difference is obvious. Even if he can’t run, he could at least walk.”
Hein delivered this one-sided assessment, then gazed at the Great Ogre Knight, who was supporting himself on the ground, and continued with a mocking laugh.

“You certainly look menacing enough… Alright, you pass.”

With that, Hein turned his gaze to the black dragon he had been riding.

“Ouma!”

At the sound of his name, the black dragon’s entire body began to writhe and ripple.
Liquid-like darkness surged from between its scales, transforming into a humanoid form faster than it could drip onto the ground.
A girl. Clad in a revealing suit of black armor, hair as dark as midnight flowing around her, her form was unmistakable to those present.

“Sha…rki-sama…!”

The Great Ogre Knight spat out the words as if vomiting bl00d.
Hein tilted his head slightly at the name, he murmured.

“Sharki? Ah, so that’s what this skin was called,”

“I found her heading toward the Imperial Capital just recently.”

Hein shrugged, as if it had been nothing more than a way to pass the time.

“Well, I gave her to Ouma. What’s the matter, inferior? Someone you knew?”

The moment the words left his mouth, Hain paused, mildly surprised.

“Oh?”

A crimson-black aura erupted from the Great Ogre Knight’s entire body.
Then came a roar, a twisted blend of fury and grief.

“What… did you do to Lord Sharki?!”

The knight—Amadeus—howled in agony, pushing back against Hein’s crushing pressure as he struggled to his feet.
A quiet, unspoken longing for Division Commander Sharki had long smoldered in Amadeus’s heart. That faint affection now ignited into a raging inferno of vengeance, pouring raw strength into his limbs.
Hein watched Amadeus desperately struggle to his feet and replied,

“I wouldn’t know.”

His voice was indifferent.

“Ouma, tell him what you’ve done. Leave his head intact.”

Obeying the command, Ouma shook her shoulder-length black hair and approached Amadeus, who was kneeling on one knee on the barren ground. She stepped over corpses and pools of bl00d, a sinister smile spreading across her lips. The smile was as bewitching and seductive as that of a prostitute—a vile expression the real Sharki would never have worn.
Then, Ouma slowly reached for Amadeus’s chest and, unbelievably, pressed his lips against his.

“Mmm… guh…”

Amadeus, caught completely off guard, widened his eyes. Despite feeling ashamed, he couldn’t help but feel a fleeting flutter of excitement. But that moment was truly fleeting. A black, muddy liquid oozed from Ouma’s mouth, slithering thickly into Amadeus’s mouth.

“Ugh… ah… gaah… ”

His groans were cut short as the black liquid choked his throat.
Feeling the viscous substance corrode his entire body, Amadeus realized the burning rage that had consumed him moments before was rapidly being extinguished by a chilling terror.
His tense muscles, his racing heart—everything grew cold, sinking into a frigid swamp.

(My chest… my hands… my feet… hot… what’s happening? Hot, yet cold… freezing… I… I… Shar… Ki… Sa… Ma…)

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The surrounding Demon warriors could only watch, their teeth chattering helplessly.
Hein glanced sideways at the scene and tossed out a question.

“Come to think of it, you were asking if I was the Hero, weren’t you?”

One of the surviving demons turned his gaze toward Hein.

“I’ll answer you out of respect for this valiant warrior.”

Hein smirked, a hint of mockery curling his lips.

“I’m not a hero, I’m just a human.”

Then he continued,

“But this is a strange story.”

As he spoke, he glanced at the warriors.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Don’t you demons see humans as nothing more than food?”

No one answered.

“I know how you’ve treated humans. According to the records, the Southern Army, for example, supposedly recycled human corpses to create their so-called immortal legions. Deep down, you’ve always looked down on humans. That’s why you could treat us so casually. Even after the war ended, you kept harassing us, didn’t you? You underestimated humans completely. Even when the Demon King was defeated by the hero, you refused to see it as anything but an anomaly. But now that you’re the ones being hunted, you’re trembling with fear… Isn’t that a little pathetic?”

The valiant, ruthless, and incomparably resilient warriors of the Demon could offer no response.
Hein snorted dismissively and turned to Ouma.

“Tell me, brave warrior. You who stood against me without fear—what do you think?”

With those words, Hein addressed the severed head of Amadeus, which Ouma held.
The head bore no trace of its former vigor.
Black sludge poured endlessly from the empty eye sockets and dripped from the mouth.
The torso had melted away from the neck, swallowed by the black, swamp-like substance spreading at Ouma’s feet.

“No one answers. Disappointing. Do these inferior creatures not even warrant a word? …Very well. Ouma, proceed with the sweep. Afterward, we’ll scavenge the fortress. I’d like to find another head or two worth displaying. And a chair.”

As Hein spoke, Ouma severed her right arm, molded it into a black chair, and placed it behind Hein.
Hein crossed his legs and watched Ouma’s cleanup with bored indifference.