"You underestimated our civilization's adaptability."
The Dragon Queen's voice was somewhat stern, yet faintly tinged with pride, as though she was speaking not of a nation built by the Black Iron People in the dust, but of a glorious history that was enough to make her proud.
"Your civilization? How long has it been since I heard a line like that? You should understand that you and they are no longer the same." The Merchant's Daughter's voice was full of disdain. "Your people were indeed tenacious and resilient, and had been so ever since the destruction of your world. But after such a long passage of time, are those who have survived truly still inheritors of your civilization?"
"They have different blood from you and believe in a different culture. They were born in this world and grew within my body. Being born after receiving my nurturing, they have little to do with your civilization anymore."
"Yes," Gwendolyn replied coldly. "But everything can still be changed as long as you are killed."
"So that is your plan. Kill me, then rebuild the kingdom of the divine people." The black vortexes in the Merchant's Daughter's eyes brightened slightly. "What about the Black Iron People? Wouldn't doing so run counter to her wishes?"
"Lady Martha's deduction was merely one possibility, but fate still depends on us. Those dusk-blooded mongrels deserved to die in the first place. I refuse to acknowledge them as our successors."
The Dragon Queen answered viciously.
The Merchant's Daughter laughed for the first time.
Her voice sounded hollow yet seductive, utterly different from Roman's.
"You mean that her decision was wrong, because to her, 'continuation' was more important than 'correctness,' while to you, 'correctness' is more important than 'continuation.' For that reason, you forced them to leave this world,