While the horde seemed endless due to the limited range of his Domain, the humans stood their ground fearlessly, slaying demon after demon with as much effort as it took to shear off hair with a sharp razor. It was obvious that they found it pointless, wasteful even to use the Majesty Lokus was sure they had on such foes.

They were more than happy to slide in the knife while the demons were distracted with each other or another human, using the disorganized and unruly nature of the demons against them with a practiced ease.

Men with wide shields and short swords held the front lines, shoving back the waves of demons while soldiers with spears stood behind them, stabbing out and killing one after another.

The mustachioed man seemed to be the center of attention on the battlefield, his bone sword claiming the lives of over five demons a minute like it was the alabaster finger of the reaper itself, beckoning the demon's souls into its silent embrace.

'Ready, Ibmund?'

"Grrrrrr."

'Then let's start.'

Without another word, Lokus and Ibmund slipped in somewhere at the side of the humans' formation, not too close that they would get in each other's way, but also not far enough away that they wouldn't be able to help each other if it came to that.

The demons that weren't already occupied with a human instantly turned their attention toward the newcomer, their mouths opening in feral grins as they fought to be the first to "welcome" Lokus.

Lokus brought his shield up in front of him with a resolute look, that fiery feeling in his chest surging forward once again as his axe flew forward.

With startling ease, the weapon's blade split the skull of a demon open in a single strike, the light in its eyes winking out in an instant as it crumpled to the ground. The demons behind it, apparently not ones for grieving, charged forward over the corpse of their ally, filling the gap in moments.

Lokus struck out again and again, his shield blocking claw strikes, bites, and tail whips time and time again as he began to fall into a rhythm of sorts, his fighting intent waning quickly.

'…Weak.'

It became very clear very fast that these demons would not provide a sufficient challenge for him. Lokus didn't know if it was because he had gotten that much stronger or if it was because these demons were truly that weak, but few of them lasted more than three exchanges with his blade.

In a flash, he had met his goal of twenty kills and then surpassed it, his kill count continuing to climb.

Ibmund's claws ripped through demon flesh like a scythe cutting through wheat, the Egone in no way falling behind its master as they slew demons by the dozens.

It was a one-sided massacre, almost like these demons were nothing more than lambs being driven to the slaughter.

And the longer Lokus fought, the more he realized that such a comparison was perhaps more apt than he had originally thought.

'This can't be normal,' he thought, effortlessly striking down yet another demon with a single swing of his axe. He glanced at the other humans, finding them to be having just as easy a time as him, if not more so due to their teamwork.

For what felt like the hundredth time, Lokus recalled Vera's words.

'Not if… but when…'

As fresh demon blood splattered against his bare chest and masked cheek, Lokus could only come to one conclusion.

Somehow, Vera had caused this demon horde to attack.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

...…

SPLAT!

Another demon died to Lokus' axe, but his excitement had long since waned. Now, it only felt like a chore.

These demons weren't a challenge, they were hardly even an obstacle. It felt like Lokus had waded into a room full of defanged and declawed wolves and went to town on the occupants, as the demons before him acted far more ferocious than they truly were.

He almost felt sorry for them. Almost.

'Guess I was worried about this duty thing for nothing,' Lokus thought with no small amount of self-deprecating amusement. How embarrassing that he couldn't enjoy a nice bath, the first bath he had had in a while, because of this. 'At least Ibmund is having fun.'

Unlike its human master, Ibmund exterminated its own kind with extreme zeal and immense relish, a sadistic grin on each one of its many mouths as it shifted again and again like a science experiment gone wrong as it seemed to vent its frustration toward its own fate on these helpless demons.

The majority of the time, the demons didn't even know they were being targeted before they found their hearts torn out or their heads separated from their shoulders. But despite the untold slaughter the demon brought about, its leathery skin was completely pristine, as blood found it impossible to cling to something without a physical form.

When the final demon within Lokus' Domain fell to the ground, never to rise again, he felt a tired sort of relief, glad that it was finally over.

But his respite was short-lived.

ROAAAAAAAAR!

An inhuman roar shook the very ground beneath them, the soles of Lokus' bare feet picking up on the faint vibrations and causing him to sigh. 'What now?'

"Well I'll be damned," a soldier nearby muttered under his breath. In the eerie silence left behind after the roar, the man's voice was easily picked up. "She actually went and did it. …I owe Johnson so many claws."

"You there, take off your mask!" called another soldier with a cackle. "You'll want to see this!"

His sense of curiosity kindled, Lokus took off his mask, only for his eyes to widen as they landed on something in the distance.

Normally, he wouldn't even be able to see his hands in front of himself with how dark it was in these underground caverns, but the thing before him diverged from this norm for a very obvious reason.

It was almost ethereal, glowing with an inner purple light reminiscent of the humanoid ghosts Lokus had seen the night of his banishment. Spectral purple shadows wafted off of its keratin-plated hide like a ghostly fire, giving it an ominous appearance that spoke of something beyond the grave.

It was also big, standing slightly taller than a house at four meters tall, and was just as long as a house was wide. Its legless torso was little more than a mountain of fat, held back by a thin layer of skin that struggled to contain its form.

Six powerful arms hauled its massive bulk forward, and as it drew closer, the humans were alarmed to notice that those shadows that danced on its skin had faces.

Each one of those shadows had the distinct and human appearance of those that were no longer of this world, their faces contorted in agony as they tried and failed to flee their demonic prison, only for an unseen force to drag them back into the demon.

The demon's flat face lacked a mouth, instead occupied by a single, glowing purple eye that was as big around as Lokus' head and took up the entire space of its face.

When one looked down, they would find the missing mouth on its stomach, a gaping maw as large as a person that put Ibmund's many mouths to shame.

The mouth opened, saliva spraying out like rain and sizzling on the ground as it let out another bone-shaking roar that jiggled its fat in a way that the humans were hard-pressed to find amusing.

"Our time has come," the mustachioed man said as he flicked demon blood off of his sword. "The leader of the pack has shown itself, and with it, our victory. Remember, despite the lacking strength of its subordinates, this demon is not something to be taken lightly."

"Just how strong is it, sir?" asked a soldier. "It's too far to tell, but it has to be at least King rank. I've never seen a Prince that large, that's for sure."

The man with the mustache closed his eyes, opening them several seconds later with a hint of seriousness in his gaze. "It's at the King rank. A Major King at the least, perhaps more."

That wiped the grins off of the soldiers' faces, their own demeanors morphing to reflect the seriousness of their commander.

"Do not lose your nerve now," the man with the mustache said, his eyes flashing with a dangerous light. "There's one of it, and over fifty of us. If the other groups are done with their part of the horde, we can expect reinforcements soon as well. That Ritualist would not summon something we wouldn't be able to handle."

The men grimaced, wanting to refute but incapable of talking back to their superior. They had no idea how their leader could put such faith in such a suspicious person, but it wasn't their place to complain. Come death or dismemberment, they would fulfill their obligations to the last.

"Good," the man with the mustache said with an approving nod. "Now ready your Edicts. We're going to hit that abomination with everything we have. As for you…"

His gaze swept over to Lokus, its intensity prickling the latter's skin even though he couldn't see the stare.

"…Stay back, and if you have a way to attack at range, use it."

Lokus' jaw set with an irritated look in his yellow eyes, but he could only nod at the order.

"Just watch and learn," one of the soldiers from before said with a grin.

The beast roared again, and the humans responded by setting the world ablaze.