Chapter 141: Demon Lord Rashaelle
At the same moment, on the walls of the royal castle.
First Prince Barbro looked down at the streets below, lit up by fire in every direction.
The corner of his mouth was lifting. On that square face, the smile was barely being held back. If Momon hadn't been standing behind him, he probably would have laughed out loud by now.
Everything was going exactly as planned.
The demons had appeared. The capital was in chaos. And he — the First Prince, first in line to the throne — was about to become a hero in the middle of all of it.
Those commoners. Those ungrateful commoners. They were about to find out exactly who was worth following.
Barbro drew a slow breath and pressed the smile off his face.
He turned around. The expression he was wearing now was one of righteous resolve — fury and concern in his eyes, every inch a ruler who cared about his people.
"Momon."
His voice carried a note of urgency.
"Here."
The warrior in black full-body plate looked calmly at the First Prince's performance.
"The capital is under attack." Barbro glanced deliberately toward Narberal. "I can't stand by and do nothing."
He stepped forward and closed his hand around the hilt of his sword.
"Momon. Nabe. Come with me. We restore order and destroy the demons."
The First Prince was putting on quite the display of heroism for Narberal's benefit.
Momon looked at that carefully constructed expression of grave resolve and was quiet for a moment.
"As you command." He said.
Barbro gave a nod, turned, and walked down from the wall in long strides.
Momon and Narberal fell into step behind him.
The original one hundred and twenty-eight lesser demons had been wiped out quickly under the coordinated response from multiple directions.
The capital's streets were littered with grey demon corpses. The air smelled of blood.
Citizens began to emerge from the houses they had been sheltering in, peering out with careful looks.
A few of the bolder young men picked up torches and got close to the bodies, nudging them with a toe to confirm they wouldn't move again.
"Is it... is it over?" A voice asked, still shaking.
No one had an answer.
Then — just as everyone had started to believe the capital had survived the worst —
New demons appeared.
Sixty-four demons, each at roughly Level 20, materialized across the capital's battlegrounds.
They were larger than the grey lesser demons, their bodies cast-iron black, each carrying an enormous scythe. The blades caught the moonlight with a cold, pale gleam.
Hell Reapers.
Against demons of this tier, even a full Orichalcum-ranked adventuring team would need everything they had just to take one down. An Adamantite-ranked adventurer could handle one alone — but against this many, that meant nothing.
The tide turned.
In an open area somewhere in the capital.
Demiurge stood in the shadows, his gaze moving through the darkness across the state of the whole city.
Those jewel-like eyes carried a cold gleam in the dark, and the expression behind them was thoughtful.
The capital had taken serious damage. Casualties from the lesser demons and the Hell Reapers were still climbing. Citizens were dying in the streets. Buildings were burning. Crying and screaming wound together into something continuous.
But the dragon had not appeared.
Demiurge adjusted his glasses. The gaze behind the lenses sharpened.
"So. It isn't here after all."
He murmured it quietly, a trace of regret in his voice.
In that case, it was time to move to the next step.
Demiurge activated a skill that could only be used once every fifty hours.
[Summon Demon General]
The figure of a Wrath Demon General materialized from the light.
Enormous. Its massive, muscle-corded body was covered in black-red scales. A fanged face, eyes burning with golden flame, two curved horns jutting from its brow. Behind it spread a pair of vast membrane wings, spanning more than five meters, rivulets of magma-like light flowing through the wing membrane. Its thick arms ended in claws tipped with metallic gleam. A long serpentine tail swayed slowly behind it, its tip burning with a flame that never went out.
Level eighty-four.
"Lord Demiurge." The Wrath Demon General went down on one knee.
Demiurge paid no attention to the figure kneeling before him. He raised a hand and cast an amplification spell.
Magic spread through the night air, carrying his voice clearly to every corner of the capital.
"I am Rashaelle, Demon Lord of the Dark Abyss."
The voice was low and commanding, pressing down on everything beneath it as it rang out over the city.
"I sensed a human summoning from this place and tore through the void to answer it. At the same time, I am searching for my companion — the vampire Henyuu Penyugo."
He paused, giving the people of the capital time to absorb this.
"If you can tell me where Henyuu Penyugo is, I will spare this city. If not, the waves of demons will grow stronger one after another until this city has been wiped from the map entirely."
"Unless there is a hero among you powerful enough to destroy me — one who can cut me down before the stronger demons arrive — annihilation is your only outcome."
The voice fell. The capital went briefly, completely quiet.
Then the panic spread like an outbreak.
"A Demon Lord... the Demon Lord is looking for a vampire..."
"Henyuu Penyugo? What is that?"
"A vampire... wasn't there a vampire outside E-Rantel a while back? Silver hair, red eyes..."
"That's right! I heard it from someone at the Adventurers Guild — that vampire killed a lot of people and then just disappeared!"
"So that vampire is the Demon Lord's companion?"
The voices rose over each other. Everyone had arrived at the same problem.
Nobody knew where the vampire was.
Across the city, Brain had already found Gazef. He looked up toward the direction the voice had come from.
"Demon Lord... Rashaelle."
Brain's expression wasn't good.
"A vampire..." Brain murmured. "Henyuu Penyugo... what kind of name is that."
He thought of that night. The silver-haired, red-eyed vampire.
She had flicked away every strike he'd thrown with one finger, then chased him the way a cat plays with a mouse.
That despair was something he would never forget for the rest of his life.
"Gazef." Brain spoke, his voice a little rough.
"Mm?"
"That vampire. It's the one I fought."
Gazef's expression didn't show surprise. He had already worked that out from Brain's descriptions.
"The Demon Lord says that vampire is his companion." Brain continued. "Something that terrifying, and it has allies on top of that..."
He drew a slow breath.
"We can't win against that."
Gazef was quiet for a moment.
"I know." He said.
"And you're still going?"
Gazef didn't answer. He only looked up toward the direction the voice had come from. On the horizon in that direction, dark red light was still flickering.
Brain studied his profile. There was no hesitation anywhere on that face.
"Tch." Brain clicked his tongue and scrubbed at his hair. "I knew it."
He turned and looked in another direction.
That way led to the outer edges of the capital — no demons, no fires. A safe way out.
He had been about to run.
With his ability, slipping out of this chaos wouldn't be hard. The Demon Lord was looking for a vampire. It had nothing to do with him. He had no reason to walk into his own death.
But.
The image came back to him unbidden — the woman backed into a wall by a Hell Reaper, a child held in her arms. The citizens lying in pools of blood on the streets.
And in front of him, Gazef. The man who had taken him in at his lowest point and given him something that felt like warmth.
Brain set his jaw.
"Damn it all."
He said it under his breath. Then he turned, facing the direction the voice had come from.
"Gazef, you owe me a life." His voice had that same light, flippant tone as always — but the hand holding his sword wasn't shaking anymore. "When this is over, I'm drinking until I've emptied your wallet."
Gazef looked at him. The corner of his mouth turned up.
"Deal."
Two figures moved at the same time, heading toward the center of the capital.
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