Chapter 32: So This Is How Much a Primordial Ancient Dragon Eats?!

[Godfall Battlefield Standard Time: 08:32:17]

John opened his eyes, and the pale blue system clock automatically appeared in the upper-right corner of his vision.

There was no more cold wind blowing through the cracks in the walls, no more dust constantly falling from the ceiling, and no more rickety wooden bed that creaked whenever he moved.

John couldn’t help but sigh.

"Now that was a good night’s sleep. No wonder castle buildings are so comfortable."

"Though I suppose I did sleep in pretty late."

He stretched, got out of bed, and opened the bedroom door.

The first-floor hall was already bustling with activity.

The long table in the center was covered with food.

Several women were busy moving back and forth, and the aroma of freshly prepared bread and other baked goods filled the air.

John walked over for a closer look.

There were several wooden bowls filled with the usual hearty stew.

Beside them sat a row of coarse ceramic plates, each piled with more than a dozen slightly overbaked flatbreads, along with meat pies and other food.

"Did they make these with the wheat we harvested yesterday?"

John muttered to himself as he casually picked up a flatbread.

It was somewhat hard to the touch, and the charred patches on its surface felt rough against his fingers.

He broke off a piece and popped it into his mouth, chewing a couple of times.

A coarse, earthy wheat flavor spread across his palate, accompanied by a faint hint of salt.

Compared with the low-quality bread adulterated with sawdust that people ate in the Lower City of the real world, this was actually pretty good.

More importantly, he finally didn’t have to live on meat alone.

John pulled out a chair and sat down. He ate two flatbreads with his stew, and he immediately felt much more energized.

After finishing his meal, he set down his bowl and utensils and scanned the hall.

Only then did he realize that something was missing.

"Ophelia?"

John closed his eyes and tried to contact her through their mental link.

However, when he extended his consciousness outward, all he received in response was a blank void.

John frowned slightly. With no other choice, he stood up and headed toward the second floor.

Knock, knock.

There was no response.

John waited two seconds before knocking again, putting a little more force into it this time.

The door slid inward.

It hadn’t been closed at all.

John fell completely silent.

The room’s layout was almost identical to his own: a bed, a small table, and a window.

The curtains were half drawn, allowing sunlight to squeeze through the gap and lay a golden strip across the floor.

And on the bed...

Ophelia was sprawled out in a sleeping position so spectacular that it defied description.

She lay spread-eagled across the mattress, her silver-white hair cascading like a waterfall over the pillow, bedsheets, and even onto the floor. A few strands were draped across her face.

Her two small, dark golden dragon horns glimmered faintly in the morning light. A tiny piece of thread, somehow tangled around one of them, dangled from its tip.

She had kicked the blanket all the way to the foot of the bed. Half of it was hanging onto the floor, while the other half had been twisted into a tangled ball.

A glistening strand of drool hung from the corner of her mouth.

John stood in the doorway, a vein on his forehead twitching slightly.

Ophelia seemed to sense his presence.

Her nose twitched.

Her golden slit pupils snapped open, meeting John’s gaze as he looked down at her.

The next second—

BAM!

With speed that defied all common sense, Ophelia shot upright from the bed, flipped through the air, and landed heavily on the floor with her bare feet, her knees slightly bent.

"M-My Lord!"

Her voice was at least two octaves higher than usual. All her customary coolness and imposing dignity had vanished.

A silver strand of saliva landed on the floor with a soft plop.

Ophelia hastily wiped the corner of her mouth with her sleeve, then instinctively tried to smooth down her disheveled silver hair.

Unfortunately, the rebellious strands refused to cooperate. Every time she pressed them down, they sprang right back up.

John regarded her suspiciously.

He was beginning to wonder whether the mighty Primordial Ancient Dragon who had solemnly sworn undying loyalty to him the previous night had somehow been possessed by a ghost.

With that thought in mind, he chuckled softly.

"That’s enough. Get yourself cleaned up. We’ll meet downstairs in thirty minutes."

John didn’t bother correcting her behavior. After all, everyone was entitled to their own little quirks.

With that, he turned and left.

Behind him, Ophelia’s flustered voice rang out.

"Yes, yes! I’ll be ready right away, my Lord!"

...

[Godfall Battlefield Standard Time: 09:12:48]

John sat beside the long table in the hall, browsing the territory management interface floating in the air.

The next moment, he heard a series of quick, light footsteps coming from the staircase.

Ophelia appeared at the entrance to the hall, having fully restored the dignity of the mighty Ancient Dragon.

She walked over to the table, glanced at John, and spoke in her usual cold, composed voice.

"My Lord, I am ready."

John looked at her without mentioning what had happened earlier. He simply raised a hand and pointed to the seat opposite him.

"Have breakfast first."

The food on the table had already been replaced with a fresh batch.

Ophelia picked up a piece of meat and took a bite.

Then she paused for a moment.

Her dark golden slit pupils widened slightly, as though she had discovered something extraordinary.

She lowered her gaze to the food in her hand, finished the piece in two or three bites, and reached for another.

Then a third.

John initially paid no attention to her. He continued browsing the territory interface, reviewing the resources collected the previous night.

By the time he raised his head to say something, however, his gaze froze.

Only two flatbreads remained in the entire stack on the table. The meat and stew had long since disappeared, leaving behind empty plates and bowls.

A pile of dishes had accumulated in front of Ophelia.

John glanced at the tabletop, suddenly intrigued.

"Gru."

He turned his head and called out.

Gru walked in from outside.

"Bring us some more food."

Gru acknowledged the order and quickly returned with another large assortment of dishes.

Ophelia’s eyes lit up, and she resumed eating with astonishing speed.

By the time John had lost count of how many times he’d asked Gru to bring more food...

"..."

John leaned back in his chair, his expression completely numb.

He was beginning to suspect that Ophelia’s appetite was directly proportional to her strength.

Thankfully, he’d established a Resource Plot the previous night. Otherwise, she might actually have eaten the household into poverty.

"Whatever. It’s just food... Let her eat as much as she wants."

John turned his attention away from her and casually opened the World Channel.

While Ophelia ate, he planned to check what was happening outside.

The messages on the World Channel were still refreshing at a staggering rate.

Today was the third day.

The final day of the Novice Protection Period.

John glanced at the number of surviving Lords displayed by the system.

[Current Number of Surviving Lords Across the Server: 80,842,509 / 124,231,034]

Nearly twenty million fewer than yesterday.

It had been only three days since the game launched, yet that many Lords had already been eliminated.

Still, the second siege wave the previous night had been a genuine disaster for most new Lords. The system had introduced goblin siege engines, and the resulting bombardment had overwhelmed countless unprepared territories.

John moved his gaze away from the player count and continued reading.

The messages on the World Channel could roughly be divided into three categories.

The first consisted of complaints and desperate pleas for sympathy.

"It’s already the third day, and I’ve only managed to gather fifty one-star Spearmen! I don’t even have enough resources to upgrade my altar once. How the hell am I supposed to survive tonight’s siege?"

"Be grateful! My territory’s shield was smashed to pieces by goblin catapults during last night’s second siege wave. Everything I had is gone. Now I’m just sitting here waiting to die."

"Is there anyone kind enough to share their coordinates so I can take shelter in your territory? I’ll trade everything I own for one safe night."