El could see Ivena’s shyness.
“No way…”
Maybe it was just something else—either way, a spirit falling for a human was just too incredible. He tried to convince himself.
Still, El kept this matter in his heart; perhaps there would be a chance to find out more in the future.
It was already late. El lay on the soft, spacious bed, sorting through the information he’d gathered today.
A great being…
Could the demon inside his body really deserve such a lofty evaluation?
Then how did it end up in his body? To be honest, El’s father, David, was just a count—he didn’t believe his father could pull off something like this.
That made the reason the cultists were after him obvious—they, just like his father, wanted the being inside him to awaken.
According to Teacher Anthony, this demon was unlikely to do harm to his body, but if the demon cult’s vermin got their hands on it, it’d be a whole different story.
So right now, El’s greatest crisis came from the cultists lurking in the shadows; his top priority was to root them out. The demon inside his body was, on the contrary, not a threat to him at all.
According to Cielsa, the greatest supporter behind the cultists was the Leon Empire’s Second Prince, Phyllis Reinhardt.
In order to obtain the power to compete with Cielsa, he’d chosen to ally with the demon cult.
This was an inescapable part of eradicating the cultists; the matter itself was tied to the struggle for the throne, which made it incredibly complex.
If it weren’t for Cielsa’s help, El would never be able to contend with such a behemoth on his own; he’d have no choice but to hide away in the count’s domain.
El wanted to do something, too—the Lower District was huge, and no force could fully control the place; it was most likely that cultists were active there.
Tomorrow, he’d take a day off and take Ivena to the Lower District to scout things out.
With the plan settled, El’s mind gradually drifted off, and he fell into a deep sleep.
***
The Abyss, within a grand palace.
Unlike the fire, gunpowder, and desolation El had seen last time, this palace was exceedingly luxurious—gold-gilded colonnades, elegant architecture, all more exquisite than anything in the mortal world.
El instantly realized that he had entered the demon’s consciousness again.
But this time, he had to observe carefully, and hopefully gain more information about this demon.
Upon the throne, a towering demon held a sword arrogantly, pointing it at “El”: “Angell, you traitor! Where did you get the courage to challenge me, to challenge the King of the Abyss!”
From El’s perspective, the demon on the throne was about twice his own height, with a strikingly handsome face—even by human standards.
Wait, why could he understand the demon’s language now?
“El,” that is, Angell, let out a cold laugh: “Sorenyas, you’re not worthy of that throne. Pathetic. I’ve fought my way here, and you still think you can command me with authority?”
Without another word, Angell sent forth a black sphere of magic, radiating an unsettling aura of destruction, straight at Sorenyas.
“This lunatic.”
Sorenyas cursed under his breath, then from who-knows-where produced another sword, completely silver-white.
The blade collided with the spell sphere, emitting a teeth-aching sizzle. Magic surged violently, and the walls of the palace began to show cracks from the shockwaves.
That sword, “Eat Demon”, Sorenyas’s weapon, a Concept Armament, with the power to nullify magic.
As the chaos faded, Sorenyas looked untouched, but the throne beneath him had already collapsed entirely.
“You can’t even control your own weapon, yet you think you can rule the entire Abyss? Laughable.”
Angell sneered.
El noticed that this dream was far clearer than before; through Angell’s thoughts, he could even understand information he’d never encountered before.
That might not be a good thing… It meant the demon was growing more active.
“Damn you, traitor. You’ve truly angered me this time. Now, I’ll show you what price you pay for infuriating a king.”
His dignity challenged, his throne destroyed—Sorenyas had to wash away this disgrace with the traitor’s life. Sorenyas slammed a fist into the wall behind him, spiderweb cracks spreading out to show his rage.
Behind him, golden ripples appeared, weaving together until they formed a golden curtain of light.
Within that light, countless weapons emerged—swords, spears, halberds… each one with its own unique beauty, their forms all different, radiating an aura that chilled the soul.
What a familiar sight… The more El looked, the more he felt he’d seen it before, then he realized—wasn’t this Aurelia’s fighting style?
Just like it. Way too much like it…
Angell recognized quite a few of those weapons, for example:
“Glacial Ice”, a finely decorated, deep-blue sword, with the power to slow its target.
“Echo of the Gale”, a spear, able to transform a single powerful strike into countless blows, impossible to parry…
All rare divine weapons—enough to serve as a master’s main armament. And right now, countless such weapons were aimed at Angell, their edges glinting coldly.
Standing before the curtain of light, Sorenyas pressed down with his hand: “Die for me!”
In an instant, a storm howled—the weapons became meteors, bursting forth from the light in an unstoppable torrent, as if determined to obliterate everything before them.
Angell said nothing—he simply punched.
Overwhelming magic power made heaven and earth freeze.
The next moment, the storm vanished; all those alchemical creations that once made Sorenyas proud had turned to dust.
It was as if the whole palace had been wiped away by an eraser—most of it disappeared in an instant.
El’s pupils contracted sharply. He tried to analyze it with his Arcane Eye—was that… Disintegration? Such a large-scale Disintegration would surely be ranked a forbidden spell.
No, it was even wilder and more unfathomable than Disintegration. And there hadn’t even been an incantation… The magic consumed must be astronomical.
El reckoned, even if ten Anthonys were tied together, their magic couldn’t support a spell like this.
So this is a demon… What a terrifying being.
“Supreme Authority of Alchemy, yet in your hands it’s no more than a child’s plaything. Your Concept Armament is laughably weak.” Angell lifted Sorenyas by the neck and made his assessment coolly.
He stood atop the ruined throne, suspending Sorenyas in the air—the difference in size between the two demons was comically absurd.
“You let your underlings plunder wantonly, plunging the Abyss into chaos, just to forge a few flashy but useless toys.
“You don’t see the multitudes cast out from their homes, you don’t see how many mothers lose their sons, wives their husbands, children their fathers.”
“Your era is over, Sorenyas.”
Terror filled Sorenyas’s eyes: “No, Angell, you can’t do this. I wield the Authority of ‘Greed’. I’m still useful……”
Before he finished, Angell crushed his skull.
“Truly pathetic… Not a shred of kingly bearing.”
The demon sat amid the ruins of the palace, as if that wasteland was now his throne.
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