"What do you mean you can't portal my army to the shrine?" growled Demon Lord Taloth.
His right clawed hand was wrapped around the neck of the shade, hoisting it off the ground. Even though the shade was nothing more than a soul doomed to serve in the deepest pits of hell, presented in a ghost-like form, nothing more than a featureless form of their former selves.
Their unique form made them immune to attacks by most demons, but Demon Lord Taloth wasn't just any demon. He was a Demon Lord, one of the six to command the armies of the Seven Hells United. This shade was nothing different from an imp to him. He could crush it like a bug if he so wished, but he had to exercise control and poise in this crucial stage of his plans.
With minimum effort, he threw it on the ground, fixing his stance to regain the look of a dignified demon lord—more like Demon Prince, but he didn't want to jinx it before his ascension materialized. So he clamped down on the errant thought and focused solely on the lesser demon before him.
"I asked you a question," Taloth growled. "Speak before I end your pitiful existence."
He watched with a facade of indifference as the lesser demon scrambled to its feet. The rest of its kin had deserted it when they'd sensed him coming, content to let this unfortunate shade take the fall for their incompetence.
"My lord, we've lost connection to the shrine on the baby world Earth. As far as we can tell, your shrine no longer exists there," the shade said hurriedly.
Taloth pretended not to notice the fact that the lesser demon was stylishly trying to inch away from him. Instead, he focused his thoughts on the new information.
The human.
After his last meeting with Demon King Zephyr the VII, Taloth took his time combing through the information he had on the baby world. Even though the information was bare, he'd managed to piece together a few tidbits that explained the current situation of the world, plus he'd gotten reliable information from an old friend about the average level of the world.
Nine.
Taloth had thought his friend had been pulling his horns when she'd told him about the average level of the world, but she'd been adamant that she wasn't lying. The grade of the planet certainly did enough to make the report seem reliable.
"When the rest of your kin returns, tell them that they'd better serve under Celebian's banner for his next conquest."
Taloth watched the weight of his words sink into the shade. Even though it lacked a face, he could feel the waves of horror wafting up from it at the casual death sentence he'd just handed its kin, and that was enough for him.
Turning on his heels, he started making his way back to his throne room, his facade falling apart as he began to put the pieces of the puzzle together. At first glance, it looked so simple, but there was always the risk of a wild card in baby worlds.
A measly F.
The combination that the baby world had been given practically meant that they were screwed in the grand scheme of things. A planetary grade of F and an average level of nine probably meant that they'd be nothing more than fodder when the real heavy hitters showed up. Knowing how the system liked to operate, it'd probably be a while before that could happen, but it definitely would, and when it did, they'd be screwed beyond all doubt.
Just like he was going to be if he didn't find a way to get his troops back in the world to meet the deadline that he'd set for himself before the presence of the Demon King—two months. He had two moments to mobilize his troops and get out of hell. Staying beyond that time frame meant kissing his life goodbye.
Taloth watched as his two nightmare guards pushed the doors to his throne room open for him to walk through. Not even bothering to acknowledge the pair, he did just that, the door closing behind him as he made his way to the dais where his throne was. With less dignity than he'd have liked to admit, he flopped down on the throne, his thoughts trying to paint a rough sketch of his problems.
First off, he had to get his priorities straight. Getting out of hell was number one. The second he was yet to decide on, mostly because he couldn't fathom how a single human could've cleared his outpost and then destroyed his shrine all by itself. The human most likely hadn't even attended the tutorials based on the time frame and yet had still known how to sever the link between his portal there and the one here.
My first chance, and I might've just encountered a wild card. Just my luck.
Taloth let out a grumble at the thought. It was technically a bad omen to meet a wild card in a new world, but he'd hardly been able to get what all the fuss was about. Yes, everything he'd learned about wild cards like that human suggested that they were to be avoided like the plague. At the same time, everything he'd learned on the subject had been from stories told by battle-hardened Demon veterans who'd probably embellished the details a lot more to make their 'feats' of defeating wild cards all the more commendable, but Taloth didn't buy it.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Even though this was his first campaign as Demon Lord, Taloth had been in a lot of other campaigns on other worlds before his rise to Demon Lord. He'd fought against foes he couldn't even describe. He'd been nothing more than a foot soldier, but he had a reasonable enough experience on the subject matter to dismiss the claims of wild cards being anything serious.
The loss of his shrine certainly was, though. His rough estimate of having to delay his next troop portalling by four days seemed like it'd have to be extended to twenty days at the earliest, although that would mean him allowing the system to open a portal in a random location on the baby world.
While he wasn't experienced with these things, what he was sure about was the fact that he needed all the advantages he could get at the moment. One such advantage at the moment was the spiritual mark that he had locked onto the human that had invaded his outpost.
The information he'd gotten from the incompetent Master imps he'd sent there was that the place was nothing more than an easy island. Taloth had let out a rare smile after receiving that report. An island was a very good place to house an outpost. It was isolated, meaning it had fewer inhabitants to worry about, and it was going to be easy leveling up for his troops.
In other words, even with the date of transporting himself to the baby world using the marker he had placed on the human a lot further along than just being randomly teleported in the world, Taloth would very much prefer the locked-on human.
At the end of the day, he was a demon, and while the isolation stuff worked in his favor, the opportunity to put down the human who'd tried to disrupt his path to ascension was very enticing. He licked his lips at the thought of running the human through with his sword.
Maybe if he was bored enough, he'd claim the human was a wild card in the tales he'd tell when he'd return from his victory. Nothing in the baby world should be able to stop him. He'd run riot amongst the inhabitants of his soon-to-be playground.
Of course, that all depended on if the Demon King didn't get into a mood before now and then, killing him before he could even begin the incursion proper. It was rare that the king got into a mood, though. The demon rarely ever showed an expression other than boredom, as though he had better things to do than running the whole of hell.
Such power.
Taloth was sure he wasn't the only demon that dreamt of sitting on the obsidian throne someday. Heck, his current throne had subtle similarities to the obsidian throne.
Sitting up straight, he got his act together as best as he could. For one, he had to begin preparing to portal to the human's location. While the system wouldn't technically portal him right next to the human, it'd drop him and his troops somewhere close by, and since it was an island, there was a limited amount of land mass it could drop them at.
With a satisfied smile, Taloth sat back on his throne, his form regal as he overlooked the empty throne room. Soon enough, he'd have to move to a bigger throne room, one made for a Demon Prince like he planned to become.
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Ciara's idea of being distributed wasn't just the system tossing her in a random place. By the looks of it, she was at shore—an endless sea stretched across the horizon no matter which direction she looked.
"I think it's given us a vacation."
Ciara almost face-palmed at the voice that echoed behind her. Turning around, she somehow managed to keep the disappointment off her face as she stared at the people who had been thrown here too.
Apparently, the system had thought she and her group back at the tower were a package deal and had decided to throw them wherever the hell this was supposed to be.
"Did you even read the notification?" Ciara calmly asked the Berserker she'd been unfortunate to be stuck with.
More like a sissy, a fake Berserker this guy.
The sight of Ruben seemed to be like dry logs thrown into the flames of her crankiness, making it harder and harder to keep the emotion down, but she managed.
"Of course, it said it was distributing us into zones. It probably gave us a beach to blow off some steam," Ruben said, stupidly grinning at her.
She tried not to chuckle as Pirlo, who was behind the boy, rolled his eyes at Ruben's take on their current situation. The rest of the squad looked awkwardly at the pair, a little bit of hope in their eyes as they wished that their nightmare was finally over.
While she'd always try to buoy squad morale, she wasn't going to lie to them when she didn't have to, especially when she suspected that deep down, every one of them, excluding Ruben, knew the truth of their situation.
"An incursion zone, Ruben," Ciara sighed. "It's an incursion zone, not a vacation."
She watched as the others in the squad deflated at her words, but not Pirlo. The wiry boy seemed to be content keeping himself busy by using the blade of one of his daggers to scrape out the dirt and grime from underneath his fingernails. The boy was totally unconcerned with whatever was going on with the rest of them.
"Oh, so exactly what does that mean?" Ruben sheepishly asked.
Of all the morons in the world, I had to be stuck with this one.
This was like the kid in class who kept asking obvious questions during lectures, and while she'd often laugh at dumb questions during classes, she wasn't in a humorous mood right at this moment. They were literally fighting for their lives, and Ruben didn't even know it, or his mind was trying to deny that fact.
"What it means, Ruben," Ciara started, "is that the system has taken off the training wheels, and we'd have to get into the real world and survive on our own."
She watched the boy gulp audibly as the meaning of her words unraveled itself in his brain. Ciara fully faced the rest of the squad, with Pirlo looking up as he sensed that the stupid part of the talks was over. She took a deep breath as she tried to find the words to give them hope, but just before the words could leave her mouth, a couple of rumbles echoed, the sound startling her.