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Join the Server“In the past, the war between the Angel race and the Demonkind ravaged the land, drawing many races into its destructive embrace, ultimately leading to their extinction.”
“The millennia-long slaughter, spanning from the Second to the Third Demon Lord, finally concluded six hundred years ago with a peace conference initiated by the Angel race.”
“I know that since then, there haven’t been any major wars between the Demonkind and the Angel race, but…”
Yunajin was somewhat familiar with Demonkind history, having, after all, copied ‘A Brief History of Demonkind’ over a dozen times under Meredith’s tutelage.
“That seemed to be a trap.”
“Indeed,” Ramola affirmed, her gaze lifting to the boundless azure sky.
Though the floating islands of the Angels remained unseen, their dominion perpetually drifted above the continent.
“A fabricated conference, designed solely to ensnare and eliminate the Demon Lord, as hypocritical as their feigned sanctity.”
While the Demonkind rarely clashed with the Angel race in the current era, this did not signify an end to their animosity; Ramola still harbored a deep-seated loathing for them.
“Yet, it was precisely this unexpected turn of events that led the severely wounded Demon Lord to a certain city-state in Aldelit, where she lost her memories and subsequently encountered an unknown nobody.”
Ramola gestured towards Qiaolun with a slight movement of her lips, remarking, “Someone just like him, though perhaps even a little weaker.”
“Excuse me, my Qiaolun is a chosen Hero, not some mere nobody,” Yunajin retorted with a bright smile directed at Qiaolun.
“Isn’t that right!”
Qiaolun found himself utterly speechless, turning his face away to conceal his embarrassment.
‘Chosen by fate? More like chosen by you, you brilliant Demon Lord!’
“Consequently, I am quite curious: by all logical accounts, every creature should revere strength.
Even if the Demon Lord isn’t the absolute pinnacle of Demonkind’s might, she should still be among the foremost powerhouses.
So why would she develop affection for a weak, short-lived human?”
Ramola’s gaze fixed on Yunajin’s eyes, endeavoring to discern an answer within her expression.
“What was the previous Demon Lord’s reasoning?”
Yunajin met Ramola’s scrutinizing gaze without a trace of fear.
Her own feelings were straightforward; not only had fragmented memories from her past life laid the groundwork, but upon truly meeting Qiaolun, Yunajin had not lost interest in him; rather, her fondness had steadily grown.
“Hmph, who knows? I certainly don’t,” Ramola let out a bitter chuckle.
Yunajin was slightly moved, perceiving the resignation in Ramola’s laugh.
Perhaps, when one truly falls for another, all words meant to explain become utterly pale, devoid of meaning.
For time would reveal all.
“Yunajin…” Qiaolun uttered the Demon Lord’s name.
“Oh, what is it?”
Yunajin was gradually growing accustomed to Qiaolun calling her by name, yet for some inexplicable reason, her heart still fluttered.
“I’m full.
May I leave now?”
“Ah, mm…” Yunajin nodded, watching Qiaolun’s retreating figure, a peculiar sense of loss washing over her.
“It seems he doesn’t wish to confront this topic.”
“You did that intentionally, didn’t you?”
When Ramola recounted how her own sister had also fallen for a human, she was, in essence, subtly conveying a message to Qiaolun as well—a rare instance of her speaking with such measured delicacy.
“You understand what I mean,” Ramola stated.
‘Rather than Qiaolun being uninterested in the topic, it’s more as Ramola said: he isn’t yet ready to face my feelings.’
“I won’t ask why you’ve poured your affections into him; I asked similar questions centuries ago.
I merely wish to forewarn you: as Demonkind, even if you are not the Demon Lord, be you a succubus or a demonkin, our lifespans vastly surpass those of humans.
Have you considered the ultimate outcome?”
Possessing ample magic, the lives of high-ranking Demonkind approach eternity.
Even Yunajin, a Demonkind without magic, with her resilient physique and vibrant vitality, would naturally outlive any human without needing to prey on other lives.
Under Meredith’s tutelage, sixteen-year-old Yunajin had learned a great deal.
She understood, of course, that this romance would not withstand the test of time.
She had contemplated that if she relentlessly pursued Qiaolun, she would undoubtedly be the one hurt in the end.
Whether he rejected or accepted her, years hence, the twilight embrace Yunajin envisioned would ultimately fade, leaving her alone, weeping in the wind.
‘No, I won’t regret it.
I will seize this chance.’
Yunajin intended to articulate her resolve to Ramola, to prove that she would not surrender easily.
“There’s no need to speak further…” Ramola, discerning the determination in her eyes, interjected, “Indeed, a Demonkind who isn’t stubborn could never become a Demon Lord.”
****
Qiaolun returned to his room.
With the curtains drawn tight, blocking out the sunlight, he sat by the bed, quietly polishing Dawn’s Hymn.
In days long past, when he grew weary from training back home, he would sit beside a stream, leaning against a moss-covered stone, the cool trickles flowing past his feet, leisurely sharpening his blade.
His mother had still been healthy then, and his sister had yet to enroll in the city-state’s academy.
Qiaolun could immerse himself fully in the rigorous cultivation of his own strength.
He had pondered his future: with his modest talent for combat, he could either spend some money to register as an adventurer, living a life of hardship and constant danger, yet earning enough to support his family; or he could seek stability by enlisting in the army, merely needing to placate the various racial leaders of the time.
Fortunately, the current Demon Lord was not belligerent, and internal squabbles among humans were only occasional.
If luck held, and he lived long enough—long enough for his sister to graduate from the academy, long enough to return home—he would likely find a girl in the village to marry…
This was the fate of countless individuals across the land: to live a lifetime far from conflict and war, passing through existence without making a ripple.
Karkunda’s history would not record his name.
Therefore…
‘Therefore, I embarked on this journey to conquer the Demon Lord.
I believe this is my true destiny, not the placid scenes I often imagined.’
Qiaolun had never encountered any known records of humans vanquishing Demonkind, or even possessing the courage and qualification to challenge them head-on.
It was, Qiaolun mused, a tragedy for their race.
Qiaolun feared death, but more than being crushed like an insect, he refused for his death to be meaningless.
This was why, when facing the ravages of the sandstorm, he had strived so desperately to survive, considering numerous reasons for doing so.
Something occurred to Qiaolun; he paused his work, retrieving several carefully preserved rose stems from his backpack.
As he departed the Demon Lord’s City, he had secretly resolved to plant these roses in his hometown.
Qiaolun had witnessed the Demon Lord’s might, the prosperity of Demonkind; these were not reasons for humans to reject them.
Qiaolun remained utterly bewildered by the source of the Demon Lord’s feelings for him.
If this truly was “love,” it felt overwhelmingly heavy.
“As heavy as that dark Twilight’s Elegy, wouldn’t you say?” Qiaolun whispered softly to the silver Dawn’s Hymn.
The adventure continues! If you loved this chapter, The Moon Reflected In The Water is a must-read. Click here to start!
Read : The Moon Reflected In The Water
