Chapter 383: Four Dragon Generals: Fulgur
High above Lebanon, where the mountain peaks pierced through layers of dark storm clouds, a lone figure sat motionless upon a broad slab of black stone. His legs remained crossed while his hands rested naturally upon his knees, his eyes shut as though he had entered a deep meditation. Around him, the wind howled endlessly, carrying countless strands of blue lightning that danced across the mountain summit before disappearing into the clouds overhead. The figure was immense, standing nearly twelve feet tall even while seated. A thick beard framed his rugged face while long ash black hair was tied neatly behind his head in a warrior’s ponytail. Draped over his powerful frame was a black hanfu embroidered with silver dragons that seemed almost alive whenever lightning reflected across the fabric.
Beside him rested two black rods nearly as tall as he was. Their surfaces were smooth and ancient, yet blue veins of living lightning continuously coursed beneath the metal like blood flowing through living flesh. They resembled enormous lightning rods planted firmly into the mountain itself. Nothing about them appeared particularly extravagant, yet Damian immediately felt something profoundly unnatural the moment his gaze landed upon them. An invisible pressure spread outward from the rods in every direction, silently blanketing the entirety of Lebanon. It was subtle enough that ordinary beings would never notice it, but to Damian it was like watching invisible roots spread beneath an entire nation.
His throne slowly descended from the clouds before coming to a graceful stop several meters above the mountain. Racheal sat comfortably upon his lap with one arm loosely wrapped around his neck while the other rested against his shoulder. Neither of them appeared remotely concerned by the dragon waiting below.
Damian tilted his head slightly as he studied the dark clouds swirling endlessly above them.
"These dark clouds are the ones summoning the thunderbolts that strike down everything within the range of this country, correct?" he asked calmly.
Only then did the giant open his eyes.
Fulgur’s golden pupils immediately settled upon Damian before shifting toward the woman seated comfortably upon his lap. For the first time since their arrival, surprise flickered across his face.
It was not Damian who surprised him.
It was Racheal.
Ever since Lin Qui’s death, Damian’s wives had practically vanished from public view. Rumors had spread throughout the Underworld that they were hiding from the countless enemies they had accumulated during Lin Qui’s reign. Others claimed they had willingly isolated themselves to dedicate their lives to protecting the new Prince of Lust, believing he alone could guarantee their survival in the coming succession war.
Whatever the truth, everyone had been told to expect Damian.
Not Racheal.
"The weapon is called Raikiri, Spear of the Storm King," Racheal answered Damian’s question when Fulgur remained silent.
"Ooh?" Damian raised an intrigued eyebrow before glancing toward the black rods again. "Cool name."
Racheal immediately shook her head with visible dissatisfaction.
"It’s not just cool. It’s a legendary sealed artifact."
Damian’s throne stopped drifting entirely as his curiosity finally awakened. He leaned back slightly and gave her his full attention while Fulgur simply remained seated, silently observing the strange interaction unfolding before him.
"Long before the Seven Sins ruled the Underworld, when dragons still contested dominion over the heavens themselves, there existed a colossal lightning tree known as the Worldstorm Cedar. Legend claims its roots pierced the earth while its branches reached into the heart of the eternal storm surrounding the heavens. Every bolt of lightning born within that storm passed through the tree before descending into the world below."
Damian suddenly leaned backward and stared at her with obvious suspicion.
"Is this real, or are you just fucking with me?"
Racheal could not help smiling as she playfully punched the center of his chest.
"Pay attention."
"Alright, alright." Damian sighed dramatically before raising both hands in surrender. "I’m listening."
Satisfied, Racheal continued.
"When the tree finally died after countless millennia, it did not rot. Its wood had absorbed so much celestial lightning that it crystallized into an indestructible black metal veined with living thunder. The greatest dragon smiths of that era spent three centuries forging a single weapon from its heartwood. Upon its completion, the skies remained silent for seven days, as though the heavens themselves had lost something precious. That weapon became known as Raikiri."
This time Damian did not interrupt.
His gaze slowly returned to the two black rods planted beside Fulgur. The blue veins flowing beneath their surfaces suddenly appeared far more alive than before. Although the story sounded absurd, the legendary weapon described within it was sitting only a few dozen meters away.
Whether he believed the legend or not hardly mattered. Reality was staring directly back at him.
Meanwhile, Fulgur quietly observed the young prince with increasing confusion.
Everything Kaizer’s intelligence network had gathered painted Damian as an unpredictable monster. This was the man who had personally slain Duke Haborym, kidnapped and ransomed the Kasok Princess, murdered Mudhhibb and Bachi, exposed Hagrid’s illusion before nearly tearing him apart piece by piece and openly challenged multiple princes despite having lived only a fraction of their lifespans.
Fulgur had prepared himself to confront a ruthless tyrant whose mere presence would suffocate those around him.
Instead, what stood before him was a husband casually listening to his wife’s stories with genuine curiosity, allowing himself to be interrupted, teased and even lightly punched without the slightest irritation. His composure, grace and effortless calm bore an uncanny resemblance to Lin Qui himself.
"Okay," Damian said after a moment of thought, his gaze lingering on the black rods. "I’m keeping the weapon when you kill him."
Almost immediately, Racheal grabbed him by the collar with both hands and began shaking him dramatically, her beautiful face filled with outrage.
"I killed him, so I get to keep it!" she argued indignantly.
Damian’s head bobbed back and forth from the violent shaking as he tried to pry her hands away.
"Alright... alright..." he said between shakes. "Fifty fifty."
"Never!"
"Seventy thirty."
"No way!"
"Come on now." Damian wore an aggrieved expression as he continued negotiating despite his head still being tossed around. "Eighty twenty is the best offer I can make."
"I said no!" Racheal declared stubbornly before tightening her grip even further. "You’re already the Prince of Lust. Stop stealing my spoils!"
Damian could only sigh helplessly.
The playful exchange continued as though they had completely forgotten why they had climbed this mountain in the first place.
Fulgur slowly rubbed his forehead while watching the bizarre couple before him with an increasingly conflicted expression.
He had prepared himself mentally for a battle against the infamous Prince of Lust. Instead, he found himself sitting through what sounded suspiciously like a married couple arguing over who would inherit his belongings before he had even died.
His gaze shifted between the two of them.
Racheal continued shaking Damian by the collar while Damian lazily counteroffered percentages as though they were haggling over merchandise inside a marketplace.
For the first time in centuries, Fulgur found himself caught between two completely opposing emotions.
Part of him desperately wanted to laugh.
The sight of the feared Prince of Lust making exaggerated suffocating faces while his wife threatened to strangle him over a future inheritance was genuinely absurd.
The other part wanted to explode with rage.
The enemy had arrived at his battlefield, openly discussed killing him, divided his possessions between themselves and then somehow turned the entire encounter into a domestic argument.
Not once had either of them treated him like an opponent worthy of their full attention. The realization made the veins along Fulgur’s temples bulge violently.
He was one of Kaizer’s Four Dragon Generals.
Yet somehow he felt like an uninvited guest watching a husband and wife quarrel in their living room.