As a Dragon, My Entire Hoard Is Made Up of Holy Maidens

Ryan transmigrated into the world’s only max-level Abyssal Gold Dragon. He had planned to claim some land, build a city, and live the life of a hedonistic tyrant, lounging on a mountain of gold and drinking fine wine every day. But something was off about this Western fantasy world. The hypocritical church secretly devoured people, while the haughty nobles were rotten to the core. The Bright Saintess, the Empire’s Valkyrie, and the Elf Queen, all of whom had awakened to the truth, were branded as “fallen” one after another. Stripped of everything, they were wanted across the continent. With nowhere else to turn, they fled to Ryan’s dragon lair, willingly offering him their loyalty and souls in exchange for becoming the dragon’s private property. The Saintess, her eyes gouged out, knelt on the gold coins. “Great Dragon King, I am willing to become your most humble treasure, in exchange for a corner beneath your lair...” Looking at the fallen heroines who had once stood above everyone else, but now fawned on him in abject humility and depended on him completely, Ryan sighed helplessly. Fine. A dragon has to collect rare treasures, after all. When the combined forces of the Pope and the nobles marched on the dragon’s lair under the banner of “purification,” Ryan hadn’t even had a chance to act before his “fallen maid corps,” usually busy serving him tea and water, all went berserk. They summoned forbidden spells and wiped out the million-strong army in an instant. Ryan: “I just wanted to enjoy myself in peace. Why did you have to make my treasures lose their temper?”