Dennis, Caron's very first vassal, looked upon his lord with trembling awe. He thought, Those mighty nobles... cut down like insects.
Dennis had never once encountered a true Demon King in his life. Yet the overwhelming might Caron displayed before him could only make him think—if anyone deserved that title, it was this man.
"...The Demon King of Liberation."
The demons who had once been slaves repeated the epithet that had begun to cling to Caron. Of course, the great Demon King of Liberation himself had already declared that among his followers, no such thing as a "slave" existed.
"Call yourselves the Liberated," Caron had said.
The name didn't yet roll smoothly off Dennis' tongue, and truthfully he found it unsatisfying. Still, he resolved to obey his master's command without hesitation.
All around Caron lay fields of corpses. The noble demons who'd dared to resist him had met their rightful end, and those who survived had already sworn allegiance.
Dennis' chest swelled with pride. A new Demon King had arisen in the Demon Realm, and he—Dennis—would witness him devour it whole. To stand at the side of history's maker, to see with his own eyes every step of that history unfold, was nothing short of glory.
"Dennis. Come here," Caron ordered. Having just finished cutting down the last marquises who had struggled to the bitter end, he beckoned Dennis with a wave of his hand.
Dennis hurried to his side at once and answered, "You called for me, Demon King of Liberation."
"I told you, don't call me that... Never mind. Call me whatever you please," Caron said as he shook his head. "Dennis, gather the vassals who surrendered. We're pulling back. Take every piece of equipment that looks useful."
"My lord," Dennis began in surprise. "Those who raised arms against you have all been annihilated. Why retreat now?"
"What kind of brat dares to talk back...? Ah. Maybe it's already too late?" Caron said.
"What do you mean?" Dennis asked, confused.
The answer came at once.
Kwoooom!
From the barren sky fell a bolt of black lightning. The impact shook the ground, and the shockwave blasted through Dennis' body.
"Ghhhk!"
Blood sprayed from his mouth, and his vision went dark as he collapsed. Caron sighed and gestured. Pluto stepped forward, catching Dennis in his arms.
"Leo, take care of him for me," Caron said, tossing the unconscious vassal toward his cousin.
Then he turned, gaze fixed on the place where the lightning had struck. From that direction, he felt a vast surge of dark mana. Far beyond the strength of those marquises, the presence was so powerful that the very air warped around it. It wasn't quite at the level of a Demon King, but it was enough to twist space with sheer force.
Caron chuckled under his breath and waved lazily as he commented, "Must be a duke."
Out of the fading lightning stepped a single figure. It was a nobleman clad in a pitch-black suit. His hair was the color of fresh blood, and his movements were mechanical and deliberate.
"My name is Judas," the demon said in a flat, heavy voice. "Devoted servant of the Demon King of Sloth. Caron Leston, you've been making quite the spectacle."
His eyes were black as midnight, gleaming with malice. The dark mana that rolled from his body surged outward, already beginning to consume Caron's ocean.
Caron exhaled slowly and said, "Now this is more like it. A duke is finally worth the effort."
Unlike the marquises, this foe was in an entirely different class. Dukes—the highest among the Demon King's vassals—were perilous opponents even at a glance.
Caron licked his lips and tightened his grip on Guillotine . In a languid tone, he said, "You're late. I already killed off all your underlings."
"...You've raised some entertaining beasts," Judas replied coldly, flicking his chin toward the phoenixes.
The fiery birds swooped between demons, scattering eternal flames that would never be extinguished. The tide had already turned hopelessly against the demon side, yet Judas' face remained unreadable.
"Light aids you," Judas said. "But it will not save you. You are the greatest threat to my lord. And here, I will remove you."
Whoosh!
In Judas' hand appeared a longsword that looked as if it was forged from pure midnight.
Caron recalled what Dennis had once told him about this duke. Didn't he say that this guy slew three dukes single-handedly?
When the demons who served the Malevolent Emperor had clashed with the others, it was this man who had led the charge. Which meant—setting aside the Demon King himself—Judas' strength ranked at the very pinnacle of the Demon Realm.
Caron's blood stirred with battle-lust. He asked with a grin, "So you're said to be the strongest swordsman among the demons?"
"You carry yourself with insolent ease for one who is nothing more than a descendant of Rael Leston," Judas said coldly. "I once crossed blades with your ancestor. You have not yet reached his level."
Caron smirked and replied, "You've lived disgustingly long, haven't you? If I'd been alive that long, I'd have killed myself out of boredom."
Judas' lips curved faintly and said, "That tongue of yours... It is every bit as venomous as Rael's. Very well, I acknowledge you."
But already, Judas' expression darkened as killing intent spread from him like a storm. The murderous aura of a high duke expanded in every direction, saturating the battlefield—yet it left Caron utterly unmoved.
Caron narrowed his eyes, silently gauging the gap between them. He thought, ...A knight at the pinnacle of 8-Star...
The chance of victory was there. If he fought with his full power, he could win.
But this was no battle to take lightly, unlike the marquises he had crushed earlier. At his current state, he couldn't guarantee a flawless victory.
And yet, if he converted the dark mana he'd absorbed from this battle into his own and fought at his peak, then... Not only would he avoid defeat; he could overwhelm Judas entirely.
Caron tilted his head back, glancing up at the sky.
Night had fallen over the Demon Realm. This was the time when demons grew stronger, and dark mana swelled with dreadful potency.
No need to tear into him here, Caron thought.
After all, his initial objectives had already been achieved. One couldn't always fight with the advantage, but neither was there any need to indulge in a disadvantageous battle.
With his calculations finished in an instant, Caron gave a crooked smile and said, "I don't particularly feel like fighting today."
"...What do you mean by that?" Judas demanded, his voice low. "I heard you were one who always seeks out a place to die."
"Sure, I can butcher demon scum anytime I like," Caron replied casually. "But today, I came only to test the phoenixes' power. If you're that eager to cross blades with me, then come to Dinatrius Fortress. I'll be waiting there."
If Judas followed him all the way to the fortress, Caron would gladly answer his challenge—along with the Magic Tower's airship and its overwhelming firepower at his back.
Caron was, after all, a shameless mad dog to the very core.
"Lady Gratia?" Caron called out, raising his voice. "We've done all we came for, so let's head back. You've secured all the prisoners, right? Then let's go."
For the first time, Judas' expression wavered in astonishment. This wasn't the reaction he had expected.
For demons, battle could end in only two ways: Either fight until one side was slain, or surrender. But fleeing was unthinkable.
Desperate now, Judas flared his dark mana, trying to smother the magic being cast.
Whoosh!
But not even he could disrupt a spell woven by a dragon and two archmages.
Flaaash!
In an instant, Caron, his companions, the phoenixes, and even the demons taken as prisoners were swallowed by light.
Within that brilliance, Caron glanced at Judas and smirked, then said, "Follow me if you dare."
"Caron Leston!" Judas roared.
"There'll be a day soon enough when our swords will cross properly," Caron said lightly. "Go wash your neck and wait for it. Ah—and do pass along my regards to your Demon King of Sloth."
"You cowardly human, how dare you mock me and think you can—" Judas began, but his words never reached their end.
Pheeew.
By then, the place was empty. Nothing remained.
Judas scowled, surveying the battlefield littered only with corpses. His lips curled back in frustration.
"...Hah."
He had no idea how he was supposed to report this to his master.
***
Flaaash!
Caron and his party returned to the fortress. Stepping out from the radiant light, Caron exhaled lightly.
In front of the magic circle, Zerath, who had been waiting, greeted them. "How did it go?"
"We handled it well enough," Caron replied. "They were weaker than I expected. There were three marquises mixed among them, but..."
Thump, thump.
He tapped his stomach and said with a playful grin, "I ate well."
"And the creatures of light?" Zerath pressed.
"They showed solid effectiveness against both demons and demonic monsters," Caron answered. "Rapha, what about the phoenixes? How heavy were the losses?"
"Three were taken down, and six more were wounded," Rapha reported calmly. "But the ones that fell will resurrect in a week's time. There were no major issues."
"Ha! Perfect. Just perfect," Caron said.
Their ability to recover on their own—now Caron understood well why phoenixes were known to be "immortal." The new weapons hatched from the breeding grounds had exceeded even his expectations.
With a satisfied expression, Caron patted Rapha's back, then turned to Zerath again. He said, "They're very useful. Oh, and we brought back three enemy siege engines. The rest, we burned to ash on the field."
"You plan to put their weapons to use?" Zerath asked.
"If they're superior to our own, then it's worth dismantling them," Caron answered. "I'll hand them over to the Imperial Magic Tower and the dwarves. Sir Zerath, make sure no other faction tries to stick their spoon in."
"I'll station the Oceanwolf Knights to guard them," Zerath said, then exhaled softly as he looked toward the new demons emerging from the teleportation circle.
So, Caron had added more vassals yet again. At a glance, their numbers exceeded two hundred.
For ordinary mages, such a mass teleportation would have been impossible—but with a dragon and two archmages aiding, even the impossible became possible.
They were fresh meat shields for the expeditionary force.
To be able to gather reinforcements in the Demon Realm, where none had expected to draw supplies—this was rain falling on parched earth.
"Nothing else happened, I hope?" Zerath asked.
As they walked toward the command post, the two continued their exchange.
Then Zerath relayed the latest news. "The main force's departure has been moved up. They set sail tomorrow."
The advance force had held but one goal, which was to secure a foothold. And they'd succeeded brilliantly. The port was theirs, and now they even had a fortress to serve as a base. The main army could land without hindrance.
"Wasn't the original plan two weeks from now?" Caron asked.
"It is said to be the head of the house's decision," Zerath replied.
"Well, if Grandfather thinks so, then that's that," Caron said.
The earlier their landing, the better for Caron. The battle just now had proven the demons weren't as strong as he'd feared. They were already splitting their strength, fighting against the Demon Queen of Lust, and it seemed they couldn't afford a two-front war.
That was all the more reason to press the attack without mercy.
"Still, something feels off," Caron muttered.
"In what sense?" Zerath asked in a low tone.
"Don't you think the Demon King's been a little too easy to deal with? Throwing away troops like this?" Caron said.
The Demon King of Sloth was a master of moving pawns from behind the curtain. One had only to look at the fall of the Eastern Great Forest—he had drawn attention through Ugo, then destroyed the forest through the dark elves.
Scheming from the shadows—Caron couldn't deny that, in this, the demon was peerless. In truth, all Demon Kings were like that.
Since the landing, Caron had faced no true trials. Which could only mean that the Demon Kings had yet to reveal their real hand.
Zerath nodded slowly at Caron's words and admitted, "I agree."
"We need to figure out what the Demon Kings are planning," Caron said. "Only then can we—"
"Caron," Zerath interrupted gently.
Caron glanced at him, eyes wide, then asked, "Yes?"
"There's no need for haste," Zerath said. "And there is no need for you to shoulder everything. We may not be as prepared as we would like, but that does not mean you must do it all."
It wasn't a rebuke, but a steady reassurance.
"Many march with us on this expedition," Zerath continued. "Your role is great, but not all-encompassing. Focus only on the enemy before you. Countless others will have your back."
Rushing would only ruin everything. What Zerath feared most was that Caron, consumed by hatred, could fail to see the dangers before him.
"Never forget that you are not alone," Zerath said, his voice brusque but filled with a teacher's care.
Caron chuckled faintly and nodded, then said, "I hear you."
"The Leston duchy and the Oceanwolf Knight Order have spent long centuries preparing for this day," Zerath said firmly.
A blade tempered through endless years would at last pierce the heart of the Demon Realm. Of that, Zerath had no doubt.
Caron only shrugged at Zerath's stern tone, then said, "You're as much a nag as ever."
"Not half as much as Lady Leon," Zerath said.
"Ugh, I hope she doesn't come. Leon's nagging is unbearable," Caron complained.
"And to me, you're worse," Zerath replied flatly.
"...That's harsh," Caron muttered.
Talking like this, the two entered the command post together.
***
Four days passed.
"You've done well, Caron," Halo said.
"Welcome to my fortress, Grandfather," Caron said with a mischievous smile. "Please, make yourself comfortable. You can bill Azureocean Castle for the lodging fees later."
"...Is anyone there? Bring me a cudgel," Halo growled with a smirk. "This lunatic is eating away at the expeditionary force."
At last, the main host of the expedition landed in the Demon Realm.