The environment of the Demon Clan’s territory is unbearably harsh, arguably the most barren land on the continent, but that didn’t stop the Demon Clan from recklessly developing it, leading to the birth of the Demon King’s Castle.
The outer regions naturally formed a barrier, serving as the first line of defense against external enemies and an early warning system.
At this moment, the last Demon King, Lord Hakimi, stood outside his tent, hands behind his back, glancing at the silver-haired girl beside him, calm as still water.
He hoped Emilia could maintain that composure later and not act like a hungry wolf spotting meat when she saw Gerald…
Now, he might’ve sensed she no longer cared about Gerald.
But the betrayal, the selling out, and her love with Gerald—those were things he couldn’t easily forget.
Perhaps, given some time, old flames might rekindle.
The thought stirred an urge in him to watch the drama unfold.
What else could he do?
Kill them both?
No, both had their own value in staying alive.
Sieg didn’t want emotions to dictate his actions.
Why didn’t he hate them?
On the surface, it wasn’t obvious, but deep down, he’d already written their names in his little black book, titled **, ensuring their doom a hundred years from now.
He’d stand at their graves and muse, “This is the victory of martial arts.”
For now, he wouldn’t act before fully utilizing them.
As for whether he’d give them a kick or two, that depended on his mood.
Withdrawing his gaze, he looked toward the distance, preparing to head to their destination.
He quietly signaled the girl to hold onto him to keep up, as riding a horse would be too slow.
“Hold onto me. Last time I’ll say it—time’s about to speed up.”
He thought of a unique technique.
Though he’d never used it, it’d probably work.
Emilia didn’t refuse such an opportunity.
She clung tightly to his back, leaving no gap, her ample chest pressed flat against him without any intention of letting go, as if she wished they could stay like that forever.
…
After finishing some stretches with Emilia on his back, Sieg’s veins bulged, exerting full effort to avoid straining his old bones—nearly fracturing them.
With a loud shout, he kicked a tree, snapping it, then launched it into the air with a powerful stomp.
He leaped onto it, attempting to ride the flying wood.
Soon, they reached their destination.
Unfortunately, the landing wasn’t stylish.
He braked with his face, plunging into mud.
No crash, no thrill—besides, it was his first time, so being unpolished was normal.
Thankfully, he’d protected Emilia beforehand.
She stood beside him unscathed, her dress spotless, nervously asking questions like a buzzing mosquito…
Her voice was incessant.
Even he didn’t know why he saved her.
His body just moved instinctively.
Humans are complex like that…
No, wait.
He slapped his crotch, suspecting his “little brother” was messing with his mind.
Damn it.
But her time to die hadn’t come yet.
“Woman, you’ve successfully caught my attention.”
“Alright, alright, I’m not dead, Emilia.”
Staggering to his feet, he waved dismissively, his face expressionless.
With magic, he shook off the dirt, restoring his clean, sharp appearance, steam rising from his body.
He sensed the refugees weren’t far, lingering and wandering, not like they were lost but deliberately heading this way.
From the Empire’s direction… suspicious.
But he knew the bold thrive while the timid starve.
Just do it.
Not reckless, but the reward outweighed the risk.
Besides, if these people entered the Demon King’s Castle and caused trouble, they’d have to deal with him.
A few rounds of his lightning whip would tame them.
If not, they’d loyally “contribute” to the castle—physically.
“Are you really okay, Sieg? Let me check.”
Emilia, worried, quietly approached, her delicate hands sneakily taking advantage, feeling his body heat, her voice tense, her crimson eyes tinged with concern.
Before he could respond, her hands started poking around.
“Let me see, let me see,” she said, Gerald’s voice echoing in her mind.
“Ha, ha, ha, men and women shouldn’t touch so casually, Emilia. This isn’t proper in public.”
Clearly, her touch triggered him, memories of a forced kiss flashing vividly.
He didn’t dare imagine what she’d do next.
Hmph, this audacious woman.
Straw Hat Kid, you’re the expert here.
Spinning, he slid away with a shovel-like move, no hesitation.
“Sieg, so you’re saying it’s fine in private? Got it. I’ll be more careful next time.”
Emilia, with top-tier comprehension, gently touched her cheek, a faint smile appearing.
But shouts from nearby interrupted, drawing both their attention and cutting off the conversation.
Sieg’s retort stuck in his throat, silenced.
Little did he know, not speaking was as good as agreeing—trouble was brewing.
“You’re Lady Emilia, right? I’ll never forget you! It’s true, the rumors were right—you’re really here! We’ve finally made it!”
The apparent leader shouted with joy, calling to his companions.
His once-despairing expression turned bright and clear.
The lifeless refugees erupted in excitement, especially after confirming it was her.
It was as if they’d found salvation, departing in peace one by one.
The most eye-catching was, undoubtedly, Gerald.
Crawling on all fours, he pushed through the dense crowd, hair disheveled, wriggling toward Emilia, whom he hadn’t seen in days.
His eyes burned with greed and excitement.
She was still breathtaking, blooming only for him.
He’d thought she’d given up on him, on their love.
But recent events suggested it was just her playing hard to get.
After days of searching, ready to give up, his tears burst forth. He scrambled toward her like a wild dog, hands and feet moving frantically.
As he got closer, Sieg, standing beside Emilia with a horrified look, kicked him away.
Gerald, disheveled, landed in the mud, but he didn’t give up.
Shaking, he stood, his gaze fixed on Sieg, the obstacle, like a warrior charging for love, a hero saving a princess.
Silent, he recognized Sieg as the man who’d kissed Emilia before.
Sieg, chilled by the stare, got goosebumps.
What the hell?
A monster?
Disgusting.
Was this freak among the refugees?
An Empire assassin?
The Empire’s standards were that low?
Sizing him up, Sieg’s mouth formed an “O.”
So, a hero?
He thought it was some pervert, but it was this massive pervert.
Chuckling, he casually placed a hand on Emilia’s shoulder, feigning intimacy as he teased, “Look, your little boyfriend’s still alive. Happy?”
“…Boring. Sieg, we need to recruit these people…”
She replied lightly, focusing on business, not even glancing at Gerald.
Before she could finish, a roar interrupted.
“Take your hand off her, you dog! Emilia doesn’t like you—she only loves me!”
“Fine, fine, you think I care?”
Sieg smirked, releasing her with a shrug, slightly annoyed.
Seeing Gerald’s expression soften, Sieg playfully placed his hand back, making Gerald’s eyes bulge again.
Repeating this a few times, Sieg amused himself.
Gerald’s all talk, but his body doesn’t move—perfect for playing a useless husband.
Right…
He couldn’t directly harm these “star-crossed lovers,” but a bit of torment?
No problem.
Mental torture was reasonable, not excessive, and not just for fun—it was revenge.