Who Designed This Underworld Dungeon?

"Lord Dorian, are you sure that by doing this, we can truly receive the blessing from the god you mentioned?"

"Certainly, don’t look up, keep eating."

Within the Deep Sea Tribe.

One after another, demon clans with obvious fish-like characteristics were voraciously devouring the carcasses of demon beasts burned to death by the Mad Fire, resembling some primitive bonfire party.

Some had already eaten their fill, yet for some reason continued to mechanically cram charred pieces of flesh into their mouths, with no visible pleasure from eating, only numb mechanical motions of consuming; all the tribespeople, including the tribe leader Shark, were dining here.

Standing before all the demon clans, Dorian nodded in satisfaction, also picking a charred piece to eat, a look of enjoyment on his face.

Meat roasted by the Mad Fire had a unique flavor, quite addictive.

He continued to emit wisps of Mad Fire from his eyes, further blackening the demon beasts before him, saying, "Keep eating, the more you eat, the more you can feel the presence of the Mad Fire, then I’ll feel assured in sharing it with you."

Just like sorcerers who meticulously pass on their Sorcery Fire to disciples, Dorian wished to do so as well, feeling it was ceremonial.

Although the Deep Sea Tribe seemed harmonious, everyone joyfully eating, several demon clans who opposed Dorian—the "heretics"—lay lifeless in a corner, burned to death.

The demon clans tore the flesh while surreptitiously glancing up at him, each displaying a mixed expression of awe, doubt, and other intertwined emotions.

Anyone thinking Dorian intended to use the almost mind-controlling properties of the Mad Fire to directly infect and manipulate the Deep Sea Tribe would be mistaken.

This time he wanted some pure love.

Just moments ago, he had used Mad Fire to deal with all invading monsters, then turned and eliminated those who actively harbored malicious intent towards him, establishing a presence within the Deep Sea Tribe.

Then, he spontaneously combusted.

"The burning of the Great Demon Tree, I must take responsibility for."

"But it wasn’t my intention, nor did I willingly commit such an act."

"It’s all High Priest Onora’s fault!"

The demon clans of the Deep Sea Tribe just listened—each of them not moving while inhaling the aroma of roasted demon beasts and companions—creating an obedient atmosphere; when Dorian spoke emotionally, they even applauded to encourage him, creating a lively environment.

No one accused him for the burning of the Great Demon Tree; everyone seemed to collectively ignore it.

If someone capable of effortlessly resolving an enormous crisis that could destroy you is giving a speech before you, appearing slightly unstable and having just performed a shocking act, you’d probably be even more obedient than the demon clans of the Deep Sea Tribe.

Dorian passionately criticized Onora, thoroughly washing himself clean, then extolled the benefits of faith in the Mad Fire.

Finally, he began inviting people to taste the demon beast meat roasted by Mad Fire, stating that doing so would enhance affinity with the Mad Fire God.

Though in his view, it was a friendly invitation, to Shark and the others, it felt like pure intimidation and threat.

The demon clans, having no choice, began to devour voraciously.

And indeed, the taste of these demon beast roast meats was quite unique and addictively delicious.

"That’s right, that’s right, eat more."

Dorian laughed amiably, smiling like a benevolent old man, gently touching the tribe’s youngest child, saying, "Once you become more intimate with the god, I’ll grant you blessings."

"..."

Shark and the tribe wore expressions of complex despair.

"Ha ha, see Todd, I’ve established myself too!"

Dorian joyfully called out to his friend in the distance.

As night fell, the time for sleep arrived for the Deep Sea Tribe, yet Dorian actively stood near the sea’s defenses, full of energy, vigilantly guarding against potential demon beast attacks; he appeared to be quite the night watchman.

A group of demon clans gathered Shark in a corner, occasionally glancing at the sentinel Dorian, lowering their voices:

"Tribe leader, should we really let him be? He did such heinous acts, should we...?"

The demon clan gestured threateningly near his neck, showing a fierce expression.

However, beneath this surface fierceness lurked deeper fear and guilt; it was obvious he was scared.

"I... I think we should obediently follow his words; I doubt we can defeat him."

"Even if we can’t win, we have to try something—ambush, poison, anything—how can we let him do as he pleases!?"

"Honestly, I find the High Priest quite annoying, should I mention it?"

The demon clans engaged in a chaotic discussion, utterly without consensus, resembling a disordered meeting.

It’s evident: the nature of the tribe shows, compared to humans, a more savage system; for them, this was considered a formal tribal meeting.

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