Submission, Part Two
Sol stopped lunging and biting. His fangs and claws were already soaked in the Boarfolk's blood, the scarlet standing out starkly in his vision.
He looked at the Boarfolk lying prostrate, almost kneeling on the ground. Its gray-white fur was a mess, its loose skin hung in folds, and its small, scrawny frame made it look like an old fellow well along in years.
Yet that single shout from it had rung out like a thunderclap, jolting the other Boarfolk out of their stupor. Their formerly sluggish minds finally came to their senses, and they all assumed postures of submission.
Seeing this, Sol let out a piercing roar of his own, signaling Xisitana and Kalpu to stop.
But the two wyrmlings were in the thick of their killing, their minds clouded by bloodlust. They finally stopped only after each took a heavy blow to the head.
"Damn it, Kalpu, what are you doing?"
"Why are you stopping us?"
Sol seized Xisitana and Kalpu by the necks. His slightly spread wings cast broad, heavy shadows in the firelight as he spoke, enunciating each word.
"These Boarfolk have already submitted to me. They're my property now. Are you trying to damage my wealth?"
Overwhelmed by the pressure, Xisitana and Kalpu dared not resist in the slightest. They could only draw in their heads, no longer daring to make a sound.
Sol tossed the two wyrmlings aside, raised his flexible, muscular neck high, and held his head straight up, sweeping his pale golden eyes over everyone present.
Blood mingled with the mud on the ground, forming a dark, blackish-red mass.
More than half the Boarfolk lay on the ground, most of them adult males. The vast majority had already stopped breathing.
The remaining Boarfolk all lay trembling in the mud, their heads buried low against the ground. None had the courage even to raise their eyes and meet Sol's gaze.
He then turned his gaze to the old Boarfolk who had submitted first, pointed a claw at it casually, and roared in a ringing voice.
"From now on, you're the leader of these Boarfolk. Clean up the area and gather all the members.
"I'll return at this time tomorrow. You'd better not think about running away, or else..."
As soon as he finished speaking, Sol sent tongues of flame curling from the corners of his mouth, seemingly in a show of warning. Then he beat his wings and disappeared into the night with Xisitana and Kalpu.
During the earlier battle, the three wyrmlings had also been injured by the Boarfolk's counterattacks. Though the injuries were not serious, they still needed to rest and recover as soon as possible.
After returning to the cave atop the distant mountain, Xisitana and Kalpu began licking their respective wounds.
Sol closed his eyes and lay down in a corner of the cave. He appeared to be dozing, but he was actually focusing on the enormous wheel in his mind, going through the notifications of increases in Mental Power Essence one by one.
What he saw nearly made his head ache with anger.
These Boarfolk truly lived up to their intelligence stat of only 7. Even under the immense terror of a life-or-death crisis, they produced a pitifully small amount of Mental Power Essence.
Normally, it took about ten Boarfolk to equal one centaur, and another ten centaurs to equal one wyrmling.
That ratio changed only when they experienced a huge emotional fluctuation or at the moment before death.
With what he had accumulated over the previous two-plus months, plus the little he had collected when some of the Boarfolk died, Sol's Mental Power Essence balance now stood at only 15.72.
It should have been more, but exchanging essence for Dragonvein Crystals and Coal had also cost a considerable amount.
It reminded him of his salary in his previous life: he got paid every month, yet whenever the new year came around, he would find he hadn't saved a single cent in his bank account.
After a moment's thought, Sol focused and tapped the small Dragonvein Crystal square three times in succession.
As three points of essence were consumed, the air before him rippled, and three elongated, translucent crystals appeared, shaped like crystal pillars.
He stuffed one into his mouth and tossed the other two to Xisitana and Kalpu.
Without a comparison, the difference would never have been clear. His foolish younger brother and sister were high-quality, high-yield crops. He needed to give them more "fertilizer" so they could keep increasing their "yield."
"My foolish, weak blood kin, seeing as you performed reasonably well this time, the great Sol will show you mercy. These are your rewards. Accept them with gratitude!"
The two gleaming Dragonvein Crystals traced graceful arcs through the air. Before they could land, Xisitana and Kalpu leaped up and clasped them tightly in their arms.
Their eyes shone with barely concealed delight. Completely ignoring Sol's belittling remarks, they asked excitedly:
"Really? You're really giving me a whole one?"
"Then can I save mine for my collection instead of eating it this time?"
Faced with the two wyrmlings' expectant gazes, Sol shook his head and gave a cruel grin.
"Of course not. Eat them right now."
Seeing that the two wyrmlings still wanted to protest, he added:
"I'll let whoever eats theirs first go and take the other's property."
The words struck at the two wyrmlings' weakness. Almost in unison, they cast predatory glances at each other and quickly stuffed the Dragonvein Crystals in their claws into their mouths.
True dragons possessed tremendous regenerative abilities. Ordinary flesh wounds took little time to heal completely.
A day passed, and the wounds on the three wyrmlings had largely healed. Only some damaged and missing scales remained, and those would take longer to grow back.
At dusk, Sol spread his wings once more and flew toward the gentle slope where the Boarfolk lived.
His powerful eyesight allowed him to see the Boarfolk standing motionless on the ground from a great distance. Every one of them looked uneasy, their faces filled with terror.
Standing at the very front was the old Boarfolk he had personally appointed. Though only one night had passed, the fellow looked several years younger, and even its formerly hunched back seemed a little straighter.
Sol landed on a jutting rock with a gust of wind. His pale golden eyes swept over the Boarfolk before him, and not one in his line of sight dared meet his gaze.
Excluding those who had died in yesterday's battle and those who had succumbed to severe injuries, twenty-seven Boarfolk remained. Most were females and young, with very few males or elderly individuals.
That was because those who had resisted most fiercely had all been killed, while the elderly had long since been eliminated by nature.
As the Boarfolk waited in fear and trepidation for judgment on their fate, a ringing voice suddenly came from ahead of them.
"You lowly, filthy, worthless swine should have spent your whole lives in the muck, keeping company with worms and garbage.
"But you're fortunate to have met the great Sol! All you need to do is offer up your worthless loyalty and conquer this wilderness alongside me, and I shall grant you endless strength and food...!!"
After a brief silence, the old Boarfolk was the first to step forward and call out:
"Great Sol, your most loyal servant will follow you for life..."
After that, voices of submission began rising one after another.