Chapter 11: The Demon Lord’s Court and the Hero’s Demand

The Demon Lord’s Great Hall resembled the grand hall where emperors received their ministers and foreign envoys.

Beneath its towering, expansive dome stood an obsidian throne, perched atop a nine-tiered staircase.

When sunlight pierced through the wall windows, grazing the milky-white rock pillars on either side, it was utterly devoured by the abyssal blackness of the throne the moment it touched its surface.

It was difficult to imagine what kind of figure the pink-clad individual now seated upon it truly was.

“Human Hero, are you prepared?”

The Demon Lord extended a hand, her pale red eyes fixed on the young man below the throne.

His short, silver-grey hair harmonized perfectly with the white sunlight reflected by the rock pillars.

‘No, he’s so handsome!’

“Hmph, the battle can commence at any time, but before that, where is the weapon you seized from me?”

Regardless of whether the other party would truly help him repair it, Qiaolun still needed to retrieve his own possession, for it was the finest sword in the entire village, embodying the village’s hopes for him.

Though Qiaolun hadn’t explicitly stated it, Yunajin could discern his unspoken message:

“The promised date has arrived; it is time to fulfill your vow.”

“Hah—!”

Suddenly, a disdainful snort echoed through the great hall.

The rough laughter, emanating from the peculiar lion’s head of Andros Chimera, one of the Eight Demon Generals, caused Qiaolun considerable displeasure.

“Human, what right do you possess to make demands of the Demon Lord? Furthermore…”

A colossal body, like a small mountain, slowly lowered itself, a wave of scorching air washing over them.

This was immediately followed by a sharp, grating voice:

“You should address her as Her Majesty, the Demon Lord, you insignificant human.”

Astonishingly, it was a goat-shaped head that spoke.

The Chimera before them possessed three entirely distinct heads, yet Qiaolun merely furrowed his brow, seemingly unfazed by Andros’s imposing presence.

“Insolent! This is the Demon Lord’s esteemed guest!”

The speaker was a young woman who appeared to be in her early twenties, though she bore horns on her head, unlike those of a human.

Her magnificent purple hair shimmered with a lustrous sheen, like a rosebush in full, vibrant bloom—beautiful, yet inherently perilous.

‘A Succubus? She looks quite fierce…’

Qiaolun inadvertently glimpsed the tail behind the young woman.

It bore a striking resemblance to Yunajin’s, suggesting they were likely of the same race.

“Almilina, would the Demon Lord truly allow a human to stand as our equal?”

‘Ah, no, not at all. I actually think it shows more sincerity if they treat me as an equal.’

Yunajin, hearing Andros’s argument, thought this with a touch of embarrassment.

“Hehehe, I believe all you principal figures have gathered here today for reasons other than discussing this human, have you not?”

Accompanying a soft, elegant laugh that echoed from a corner of the great hall, a pale, handsome, blonde-haired man emerged from the shadows.

Noting his blood-red eyes and an appearance almost identical to a human’s, Qiaolun instantly deduced his race.

‘Blood-red eyes, ears slightly shorter than an elf’s, pallid skin, and an exceptionally… handsome face. A vampire, perhaps?’

“It’s nothing. I simply grow enraged whenever I see a grotesque creature like you.

Do me a favor and engage your brain before speaking next time, lest you bring shame upon the Demon Lord!”

The purple-haired succubus, Almilina, spoke with a grave tone.

She seemed to be suppressing an unidentifiable rage within her, as if she might lose control and charge forward at any moment.

“Has your ‘Wrath’ personality decided to stir up trouble again?”

Andros took a step back.

He let out a warning growl, as a slender snake head extended from his tail, baring its sharp venomous fangs.

“Enough!”

One might have expected the Demon Lord herself to step forward and reprimand their behavior, for such unbridled quarreling in the presence of a sovereign was truly disrespectful.

However, it was not Yunajin who intervened.

Meredith, standing beside the Demon Lord, spoke up.

Her voice was not loud, yet it carried ample deterrent power.

This particular day held special significance for the Demon Lord herself, as her exclusive weapon was to be entrusted to her by the Steelhoof Tribe.

This beastman clan, dedicated to crafting artifacts for the demon race, consisted mostly of towering Minotaurs.

Only they possessed the strength and endurance required to wield the forging hammers.

Their chieftain, Crossell Ironmountain—also one of the Eight Demon Generals—was the creator of armaments for successive Demon Kings.

After the brief quarrel subsided, the Demon Lord finally rose.

Yunajin had long grown accustomed to the bickering among the Eight Demon Generals.

Their unwavering loyalty to the demon race throughout the long ages was in itself an immense test of will and a crucible of their resolve.

Even as the Demon Lord, before her true power had been awakened, these venerable elders of the demon race inevitably viewed her from different perspectives.

Take, for instance, the King of Vampires.

His seniority was only slightly inferior to Meredith’s, and he had long coveted the throne of the Demon Lord.

Possessing both formidable strength and exceptional leadership abilities, he certainly had the qualifications for it—

Such were Yunajin’s thoughts.

She had once asked Meredith where the criteria for a Demon Lord originated, given that there were clearly more exceptional and powerful demons…

Even now, Yunajin harbored doubts, feeling that Meredith’s explanation of “destiny’s arrangement” sounded like a casual pretense.

But was she merely a puppet Demon Lord?

Clearly not.

All demons, including the Eight Demon Generals, strictly carried out Yunajin’s commands, without the slightest hesitation.

Even the King of Vampires, who aspired to the throne, maintained ample respect in Yunajin’s presence.

Meredith, for her part, diligently provided guidance: handling daily affairs, acquiring knowledge, and undergoing combat training.

Yunajin sometimes chafed at her strictness and verbosity, yet this time, she genuinely wished to thank Meredith for completing her document approvals.

Though this was not the first time.

“Follow me, Human Hero.

You are fortunate; you shall have the privilege of witnessing my weapon.”

****

On the desolate plains, not a whisper of wind stirred.

Withered yellow wild grasses drooped listlessly under the scorching sun, while several towering figures stood on the open ground.

Clad in armor, they exhaled hot, steamy breaths.

“Chieftain, the appointed time has arrived.”

The leading Minotaur glanced at the high sun suspended in the sky, his clouded eyes seemingly accustomed to glare and intense heat, utterly unafraid of the fierce sunlight.

“Her Majesty, the Demon Lord, is always a little late.”

Crossell chuckled gently.

“I only hope she won’t complain that the weapon we forged is too light this time.”

Rumble—

A faint, indistinct rumble emanated from beneath the ground.

The ears of the Minotaurs present twitched, their hearing keen enough to perceive the subtle fracturing sounds within steel.

Every seemingly ethereal sound commanded their attention.

Before their eyes, an arcane purple magic circle gradually materialized on the ground not far away.

A blinding flash of light erupted, and the ground trembled in its wake.

Beneath the colossal figure of the Chimera stood their familiar demon colleagues, and Her Majesty, the Demon Lord.

“It has been a long time, Lord Crossell.”

Yunajin gazed at the aged Minotaur chieftain before her with a faint, enigmatic smile.

The chieftain, with practiced understanding, lowered his head, revealing little emotion.

“Greetings, Your Majesty.

All is prepared.”

‘Isn’t this the Minotaur warrior I defeated?’

‘He seems to be one of the Eight Demon Generals; sounds quite formidable.’

Qiaolun scrutinized the Minotaur, who appeared honest and composed.

His body seemed less massive than when they first met.

What was going on?

Had he misremembered?

He recalled when the Minotaur had charged him with heavy strides, the surrounding earth trembling.

Then, wishing to evade, he had sprung off the Minotaur’s shoulder.

To his surprise, the brute had actually flown away?

What exactly was happening?

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