The dragon's harem

And just as Arad was talking with Alcott, his senses picked up on something. He could see and hear the chaos through the eyes of his Void Crow. One of the vampire battalions had encountered a massive cult of demon-worshipping werewolves that once followed Alaric. And as Arad expected, they were scheming and working with those who worshiped Sawless to get their revenge on Arad.

Arad could see the vampire paladin holding her shield up, swinging her axe left and right against a horde of frenzied werewolves. The nuns behind her were struggling to kill the stragglers who escaped the paladin’s blade.

Arad looked at his father, “A horde of werewolves, northwest. There are around a hundred of them.”

Alcott lifted an eyebrow, “That should be a cult with those numbers. Need someone to deal with them? I’ve been rusting here for a long time.”

Arad nodded, put his hand on Alcott’s shoulder, “Thank you, Dad.” And then teleported him away.

The vampires were struggling, drowning in a stream of claws and blood. With only four of them, no matter how strong they got, a hundred frenzied werewolves were hard to push back. They first aimed to kill the leader in secret, but ended up getting caught.

The paladin’s heavy armor used to feel as light as paper on her body, but now she felt weighed down by it. Each swing, each block, and each hoarse breath drawn felt several times harder.

She would usually love being drowned in blood, but today she very much hated it. She can’t see well, her armor feels heavier, and her axe is almost becoming too slippery to hold. Of course, she can use blood magic to attack, and with all of this blood, she was several times stronger than normal, but that blood magic required mana, and a lot of it.

Already feeling low on mana, the paladin lamented the fact that she can’t drink those werewolves’ blood, it’ll burn her throat. Even the nuns behind her were slowly getting drained.

Her eyes flew past the horde of rushing werewolves and frowned. They were taking turns attacking them while giving the wounded a chance to heal and recover. They, on the other hand, had been fighting for almost two hours nonstop.

She threw a glance at the void crow, which was sitting away and watching, which meant that their overlord was watching. It must be quite the show.

One of the nuns gasped, “Shall we blow it up? Just one of us is enough.” She held her dragon necklace, which started to glow brightly. With them being almost overrun, they had one last strategy: to sacrifice one of them to kill or stall the vampires in a massive burst of Arad’s fires. The nun who spoke was already arming herself to become the sacrifice.

“Shut up and fight! You don’t own your body, and neither do I!” The paladin swung her axe and cleaved one of the werewolves in half. “We’re the lord’s property, we can’t go dying on our own.”

She glared at the werewolves with a large grin hidden behind the visor of her helmet. “No one is dying before me.”

It was then that a bolt flew from behind them and struck one of the werewolves in the head, dropping him dead. Usually attacks like that can’t kill a werewolf, even severing their head didn’t mean the vile beasts would die… But they could tell that the werewolf died instantly.

“Silver bolts for werewolves, quite useful, but expensive,” Alcott said from behind them. “I usually get them forged out of silver coins to save on money, but don’t tell the king or Alina’s lord, they’ll throw me in jail for a few decades for that. Not that some whimsical bars can keep me locked in.”

The werewolves stopped marching, and the vampires froze and looked back, seeing a figure similar to their lord but a bit smaller. They immediately noticed their lord’s father, and they could see the large grin on his face as he loaded another bolt into his crossbow.

Alcott’s eyes shifted into those of a werewolf and focused on something.

In the blink of an eye, he aimed it and fired a second round. This one didn’t strike any of the closer werewolves but flew past their ranks and slipped through a small gap between their barricade. Soon, a pained howl filled the air as Alcott lowered his crossbow and stashed it in his bag.

“Neat…” He pulled a large sword, and suddenly, a massive werewolf jumped from the darkness and landed in front. “Now, ladies, if you wish, go rest for a bit. The big dog seems to have come out for me.”

****

From afar, Arad could see Alcott massacring the werewolves; he was far stronger than any of his paladins were and could probably take on hundreds of them at once. His father isn’t physically stronger or faster than most of the things he fights, but he defeats them by sheer skill, battle experience, and the ability to adapt and use a vast arsenal of weapons.

Would it have been a better idea to go instead and leave his father here to train the soldiers? No, as powerful as his father is, he isn’t the best of teachers. Mastering several weapons and being able to switch between them at will would grant a fighter a lot of versatility and power. Most people aren’t talented enough to learn all of that.

A normal soldier would be a master if he managed to learn how to use a halberd and a sword, maybe a bow on the side. For that kind of training, it’s best to focus on the basics and create a solid army first.

But what mattered most to Arad now was to keep one thing in mind. From now on, he has to clean up after himself. He should’ve gone after Sawless and Alaric’s cults right after killing them, to rip the problem from its roots. Now, his vampires and soldiers are doing the cleaning.

It was a bitter feeling. Even with how many bodies he has, he can’t be everywhere at all times. If he wanted to do it himself, countless villages would end up butchered before he could reach them.

With a single void step, Arad appeared inside the castle, this time standing inside a large room. Merlin seemed to be teaching Merida a spell. That was a bit strange. Merida rarely cared about magic and solely focused on her swordsmanship. She was even trying to master the Blade Dance of the dark elves, albeit not being a dark elf.

But as of late, Merida seemed to be making some progress. Not in mastering Blade Dance, but in creating a knockoff version that suited her half-demon body.

Now, Arad looked at the two with a confused face. “Where did I see that spell before?”

Merlin smiled, “It’s the one I used on you. And got my hip cracked because of it.”

Arad smiled. Merida indeed boasts a lot of vitality and physical strength, in more than one way.