After Lilith left, Cassian glanced around the room and sighed.
The scent still lingered.
Not perfume — something else entirely. The passive kind succubi used without ever announcing it.
They called it Velure, a charm-laced scent designed to quietly lower guard without the target ever noticing. Left unchecked, it was the kind of thing that made people talk too freely, move too carelessly, and hand over secrets they'd never intended to share.
Essentially — it made you stupid.
He raised his hand.
"Tier 2 Magic — Gale Wind."
A sharp current tore through the chamber, scattering everything light enough to move before dying back into stillness. The air cleared almost immediately, the Velure gone with it.
Cassian lowered his hand, checked the room once, then walked to the bed and sat down.
His hand pressed into something.
He looked down.
Black. Soft. Unmistakably a stocking.
He held it up for a second, staring at it with the expression of someone who had already endured too much in a single day.
That succubus.
He dropped it, his thoughts already shifting back to Lilith — specifically the part that didn't add up. He had already offered her the throne. The one thing she had spent years pushing for. That should have been enough to satisfy her, at least temporarily.
So why was she still pushing?
Does she actually have feelings for me?
He dismissed it almost immediately. He remembered the scene clearly — Lilith stating without hesitation that she despised men, that they disgusted her. It wasn't a passing line.
That left one other possibility.
She suspected something. The original Cassian had a consistent pattern, and anything that broke from it would register to someone as sharp as her.
She was probing him.
Cassian stared at the ceiling for a moment.
He needed to leave. Soon.
Because there was one thing about Lilith that no amount of power could easily counter — her Dream Walking.
Not magic. Not a spell that could be disrupted or blocked or overpowered.
A bloodline ability. Something she was born with, which meant it operated entirely outside the rules that governed everything else. Magic could be sensed, traced, countered. This couldn't. It didn't register as magic because it wasn't — it was something older, something that existed beneath that layer entirely.
Cassian was the most powerful being in the demon realm. That wasn't arrogance, just fact. But power had a range, and omniscience wasn't part of it. If it had been a spell, he would have felt it the moment it entered the room. If it had been an artifact, he would have recognized the aura.
But this was neither.
Which meant even he couldn't detect it.
Only a handful of beings in the entire world could — and he wasn't one of them.
That was exactly how she had kept watch over the Demon King throughout the original plot. Always knowing his movements. Always one step ahead. And he had never noticed once.
The thought alone was unsettling.
Living under that without knowing it was one thing. Knowing it was happening and being unable to stop it was something else entirely.
There was an artifact that could render her ability useless. Something that would cut the connection completely and leave her blind.
But it was in human hands.
Cassian exhaled slowly.
Another reason to leave.
On Lilith side,
She reappeared in her chambers and settled into the chair, her wings folding quietly behind her.
He had changed. The Cassian she knew had never once looked at her the way he did today. In all the years she had known him, he had treated her no differently than any other demon — gender meant nothing to him.
But today he had looked at her like a woman.
"First praising my beauty, then that change in behavior… treating me like a woman," she murmured. "What caused this?"
An angry smile crossed her lips.
A decade. She had chased that man for a decade, and for a decade he had looked straight through her like she was nothing worth noticing. Any woman would find that infuriating. Lilith, who had never once doubted her own beauty, had found it downright insulting.
But that was done now.
Because today, even the Demon King had finally fallen for her charms.
The angry smile softened into something quieter, more satisfied.
At least now he sees me.
But that wasn't why she had gone to his room.
She had tried to mark him.
The Succubus Mark was something every succubus was born with, used only once in their entire life. It was meant for the partner they chose — and once placed, everything connected. Location, emotions, every feeling they experienced became open to her completely.
The price was simple. If that partner died, she lost her powers. Because once a succubus fell in love, she fell without limit, and losing that person meant losing her reason to exist.
Lilith wasn't worried about that.
She didn't love Cassian. She wouldn't fall for him. The mark was never about that — she simply wanted to know what he was planning, to track him, to stay ahead of whatever he was hiding. And since killing Cassian was nearly impossible, the price wasn't worth a second thought.
But it had failed.
To place the mark, a kiss was required. Just one.
And somehow he had slipped away before she could manage it.
She clicked her tongue, staring at nothing.
Next time.
***
The next day.
In the throne room.
Cassian sat on his throne with Bram standing before him — the only servant responsible for the entire castle. Not just a butler in title. In practice, one man handling everything within these walls.
Security wasn't among his responsibilities — in the Demon King's opinion, no demon with half a brain would dare invade this castle in the first place.
Which said something about Wraiths in general.
Bram was the head of the Wraith Clan — fifth most influential figure in the demon realm, and Cassian's most direct subordinate. Wraiths weren't a traditional race.
They were humans who had died in the demon realm, transformed by its energy into something that belonged to neither world. Not demon, not human. Rejected by both.
Cassian was the one who had given them a place.
The entire clan had been devoted to him ever since. Fanatically so. Bram was no different — composed and unreadable on the surface, but his loyalty ran deeper than most demons in the realm could claim.
"So, Bram," Cassian said. "Did you find what year it is in the human realm?"
The demon realm ran on its own calendar — currently Valerius Year 21, twenty-one years since his coronation. The human realm counted differently, and the two never aligned cleanly.
"Lunar Year 1265, Summer, Your Majesty."
"1265..." Cassian murmured, letting the number settle.
Summer. Which meant the plot was already in motion. This was the year the hero enrolled in the academy — the starting point of everything that followed. But summer also meant the academy was currently closed. New students were accepted in autumn, one season away.
He still had time.
Time to move carefully, pull the right threads, and make sure certain events never played out the way they were supposed to. If the hero never built the right alliances, the entire chain that followed would weaken before it even started.
"Bram," he said. "Any news from the Elvaris Royal Family? Anything unusual?"
"Nothing confirmed, Your Majesty. Though there are rumors that the crown prince of the Elvaris Empire has the talent of a hero." Bram paused. "Some are saying he may be the one destined to end your reign."
"Is that so?"
Cassian kept his expression neutral.
That guy wasn't the hero. His mother had fooled the entire empire — carefully, deliberately, over years — making them believe her son was the chosen one. The crown prince was talented on paper and completely useless in practice.
The real hero was someone else entirely. Someone no one was looking at yet.
"Your Majesty." Bram's tone had shifted, quiet but edged with something sharp. "Should I send someone to deal with him? For a mere boy from the Empire to be spoken of in the same breath as your end—"
"No need." Cassian's voice stayed flat. "Do you think we should react to every boast? That would only make it seem like the Demon King is scared of a little boy."
What he didn't say was the real reason.
Sending demons to the Empire meant sending them straight into the same place the hero was currently growing. Every demon that went there was just fuel — experience, battles, power gained. He wasn't going to accelerate that process himself.
Only an idiot would personally train the person meant to kill him.
"As you wish, Your Majesty."
"And during my absence," Cassian continued, "you are to give Lilith your full support. She is the most capable person in the demon realm after me."
He would give her that much credit. Whatever else she was, Lilith was sharp — sharp enough to hold things together while he was gone.
"Your Majesty." Bram hesitated briefly. "Forgive me, but placing her on the throne may cause displeasure among the other two generals. There will be those who say you are favoring her."
Cassian glanced at him.
"Bram. You're forgetting something."
"Your Majesty?"
"They may show displeasure," he said simply. "But not one of them will dare act on it."
Bram was quiet for a moment.
Then he nodded.
That was correct. Displeasure was one thing. Raising a hand against the Demon King was something else entirely.
Twenty-two years ago, the entire demon realm had witnessed it firsthand — a single demon standing alone against thousands, and thousands falling. That image never faded. It didn't matter how many years passed or how far the story traveled.
No one who had seen it forgot. And no one who had only heard of it dared assume the stories were exaggerated.
"And inform the wraiths stationed in the human kingdoms," Cassian added. "They may encounter someone claiming to be the Demon King, wearing a green gem around his neck. If they do, they are to recognize him as such without question."
Bram's expression shifted slightly — not confusion, but the particular stillness of someone processing an unexpected order.
"Understood, Your Majesty." A brief pause. "Does that mean you are going to the human realm?"
"Yes," Cassian said. "Something is already moving. I intend to stop it before it grows into a problem."
Bram lowered his head.
"Then I will make the necessary arrangements, Your Majesty. Travel safely."
After Bram left, Cassian stood up.
There was one thing he hadn't done yet since waking up in this body.
Test it.
He had inherited the memories, the knowledge, the instincts — but knowing what this body was capable of and actually feeling it were two different things entirely.
Time to find out.
"Tier 9 — Teleportation."
The throne room vanished.
He reappeared miles away from the castle, far enough that it was nothing but a distant shape on the horizon. The wind hit immediately at that altitude, sharp and cold, but his body didn't register it the way a normal one would.
Wings spread behind him as he rose higher, vast and dark, cutting through the air as he surveyed what lay beneath — Terria, the demon realm's outer territory. Nothing but mountains and barren land stretching in every direction.
Perfect.
He raised his right hand.
A magic circle opened from his palm — not small, not contained. It expanded outward, slow at first, then faster, swallowing the sky above him until the entire horizon was consumed by it. A grand ring of lightning energy rotating with quiet, absolute authority.
"Tier 9 — Thundergod's Wrath."
The clouds split apart.
Then lightning came.
Not a bolt. A curtain. Hundreds of columns crashing down across the mountains simultaneously, each one wide enough to level a city, the sound arriving a full second after the light — a rolling crack that shook the air for miles. Where they landed, the earth didn't crack.
It ceased to exist.
Cassian lowered his hand.
Raised the other one.
Another grand magic circle bloomed before him, wider than the last, its rings layering outward like something ancient waking up.
"Tier 9 — Inferno."
The fire that followed wasn't fire in any normal sense. It poured out like a living sea, surging across the mountains in every direction, consuming what the lightning had already destroyed and everything surrounding it. The heat bent the air itself, warping the horizon into something unrecognizable.
He watched it spread.
Then lowered his hand.
Below him, the entire territory had been reduced to molten earth. Mountains that had stood for centuries were simply gone. The ground glowed deep red, magma pooling where rock used to be, steam rising in thick columns toward a sky still crackling with fading electricity.
Cassian stared at it for a long moment.
Then the corner of his mouth pulled upward.
"As expected of Tier 9 magic."
He was holding back. Barely.
Because what man — what any person — wouldn't want to lose their mind a little right now? He had just called lightning down from the sky and drowned mountains in fire with two words.
The entire landscape below him had been turned into a sea of molten rock, still glowing, still moving, steam curling up into the air like the earth itself was exhaling.
That was him.
He did that.
The urge to throw his arms out and just dance — right there, thousands of feet in the air — was genuinely difficult to resist.
"Now let's try the sword."
He reached into the dark void of his subspace and pulled out the Sword of the Damned — a demonic blade, not as powerful as the holy sword, but powerful enough to serve as the Demon King's weapon. It felt natural in his hand, like it had always been there.
He held it with one arm and let Cassian's muscle memory surface, slow at first, then clearer. The sword began to darken, shadow bleeding out from the blade and wrapping around it like something alive.
He swung downward.
"Void Edge."
The magma below split.
Not an explosion, not a shockwave — a clean, silent division, a line extending outward from the point of impact and carving straight through the mountains in the distance, splitting them into two. Where the cut landed, the earth opened deep enough that the magma pooling across the surface began to pour into it, swallowed by the void the blade had left behind.
Cassian lowered the sword and looked at it for a moment.
"Still can't use magic and sword together yet."
He had inherited everything — the power, the memory, the technique. But using them simultaneously was a different matter. The body knew how. His mind was still catching up, still learning to hold two things at once without losing either.
It would take time to reach a hundred percent.
For now, this was more than enough.
Then his head snapped back.
A sensation — brief, faint, like something brushing against his awareness. Someone watching through magic. It lingered for only a moment before vanishing completely.
Cassian scanned the sky and the scorched landscape below.
Nothing.
"…That was weird."
He could say with certainty it was some sort of observation magic — someone had used it to peek at him. He had almost traced it back, but whoever was on the other end had cut the connection first.
Somewhere else entirely, in a room that had no business existing in any reasonable person's home, a woman stood completely still.
The walls were covered. Every surface — portraits, sketches, captured images of the Demon King layered over each other, some framed, some pinned carelessly, some surrounded by dense handwritten notes that spilled into the margins and kept going.
A cracked crystal ball sat at the center of the table, still warm from use, its surface etched with the last image it had managed to hold.
She was tall, long hair falling loosely around her, the kind of figure that drew attention without trying. Her hands were pressed against her flushed cheeks, and the smile on her face had gone somewhere far past normal.
"Look at that power," she whispered. "And that face while using it — completely unbothered, like destroying a mountain range is just something he does on a quiet morning."
She stepped closer and traced the crack along the crystal ball's surface, gentle, almost apologetic.
"Worth every coin. Worth breaking three lesser ones trying to get the angle right."
She turned and drifted among the portraits, scroll in hand, moving from one image to the next with focused intensity.
"Twenty-three portraits and not a single one captures him properly," she muttered, stopping in front of the largest one. "The eyes are always wrong. No one gets the eyes right."
"I've been patient long enough."
Her fingers traced slowly across the surface before her hand pressed flat against it. She leaned forward and kissed the portrait, eyes closing, the room silent around her. When she pulled back her expression was calm but her eyes carried something settled and decided.
"Sketches. Crystal balls. Scrolls." A pause. "None of it is real. I want to see you. Not like this."
Her hand dropped to her side.
"And I will."