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Demon King.
CH- 13: When Bad Meets Worse (I).

CH- 13: When Bad Meets Worse (I).

Unlucky for Uvrodon, there were no winds inside the townhouse, and the less fortunate residents of Hope lacked the means to acquire a fan or the electricity required to operate one.

“Hopeless bastards.” Uvrodon cursed under his breath.

The faulty construction trapped heat within the house, causing Uvrodon’s slight drizzle to escalate into a fountain of sweat. Yet another concern gnawed at him—an unsettling feeling akin to being watched by a predator. He dismissed it, wary of falling for the nun’s tricks again, yet the eagle-eyed scrutiny persisted, relentless in its pursuit regardless of his attempts to hide.

“Tearing down this dump will be a favor for them,” Uvrodon hissed in annoyance, his subordinates nodding in agreement as they attempted to shake off the oppressive gaze.

“Nothing here,” Bart declared after a swift sonic scan.

“Good, let’s go,” Claude agrees, popping his head out of the entrance and gasping for air.

His eyes met Ravi’s, but he ignored the deranged stare, focusing instead on refilling his lungs. Misinterpreting the stare, Ravi scurried away, while Claude’s heart raced, causing his lungs to breathe out before he could inhale.

Uvrodon concurred with the statement and slithered toward the exit, only to be blocked by Claude.

“Leaving already?” A slight whisper halted Uvrodon’s frantic slide.

The slight whisper felt like a spike being hammered into his ear for Bart. Blood gushed out, but the healing zone froze it before it could spurt all over Uvrodon. With a ruptured eardrum and blood clot filling his ears, he joined Claude’s party of the hearing-impaired.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Uvrodon shook Bart, exacerbating his dizziness.

“Huh! What?” Bart yells, and Claude repeats after him.

Being inches away from the terrifying shrill, Uvrodon releases Bart and clutches his ears. “Why the fuck are you two shouting?”

His tail whips out, slicing through an adjacent pillar as if it were made of butter. The sudden explosive strength was shocking, yet Claude’s shell proved impossible to breach.

‘Even after that, he doesn’t have a dent,’ Uvrodon hissed inwardly, begrudgingly impressed by Claude’s resilience.

Uvrodon scrutinizes Bart, who is closer to Claude, his ears pointed outward. Despite the behemoth’s loudest shriek thus far, Bart stands tall, unaffected by the commotion.

“Did you act all along?” Uvrodon questions, eliciting a confused glance and a “huh!” from Bart, and next from Claude.

“Oh, great!” Uvrodon realizes with exasperation. “Now I have two deaf fucks on my team.” He sighed and gazed at the pillar, sensing that something seemed off with this place.

The stone and bonding agent used within the pillar shouldn’t be so weak for a single swipe to rip it apart. Uvrodon wonders, “Are the nuns’ illusion spells too strong, or are their mental defenses too weak?”

“We need talismans,” Uvrodon remarks, drawing more blank stares from Bart and Claude. “I’ll remember this one too, seeing as I am the only useful one amongst us.” He rolls his eyes away from them and proceeds to mark the remaining pillars.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Within a second, he should be able to break all of them, causing her domain to collapse to the ground. Surely, she must have gained many artifacts to maintain such a potent illusion even when she’s nowhere close by.

“Where is that old hag?” Uvrodon wonders aloud.

“She left a while ago.” A voice startles Uvrodon, causing him to jump. “Won’t be back anytime soon,” the voice continues.

A quick glance confirmed his companions were still gaping at him, oblivious to their surroundings and the mysterious voice. “Where are you, coward? Show yourself.” Uvrodon demanded.

“What? Look down, you imbecile,” the voice commanded.

Uvrodon slowly peers down to find a walking stick at a distance. “How can you talk?” he gapes at the stick.

“For fuck’s sake… more to the right.”

Uvrodon follows the instructions, leading him to a kid tied to a cot, the origin of the voice. “A Mummie,” he remarks, noting the child’s restrained state.

“No, you... huh! I am not sure what I am either.” The bandaged kid shrugs, perplexed.

Uvrodon slithers closer, with a confused Bart trailing behind him.

BAAM!

A door slams open, capturing everyone’s attention on the second floor. Debbie walks out of the room, rubbing her eyes, still half asleep. Curiosity sparks as everyone wonders why only her room has a door, while the trio also entertains the thought of her being the nun.

Debbie slides down the spiral staircase with the help of a mudslide attached instead of the railing. The ride is too short to awaken her fully, so she keeps rubbing her eyes as she passes by Claude, almost collides with Bart, steps onto Uvrodon’s tail, scolds him for leaving his tail lying around, and shoves a handful of leaves into Ric’s mouth before leaving the house.

“Who the fuck is she?” The trio gapes with wide mouths, shifting their sights from Debbie to Ric.

‘Is she the protagonist of these lands?’ Ric speculates. ‘Only those motherfuckers have such tremendous luck.’

“Must be another illusion,” the trio convinced themselves, shifting their anger onto Ric.

“Speak, Mummy,” Uvrodon demands, pointing his tail at Ric.

A dark purple aura envelops the tip, transforming it into a spear of death. Ric scoffs at the spectacle and mumbles that his mouth is full.

“Swallow it.” Uvrodon scoffs, his tone filled with hesitation.

Until now, Ric had taken the encounter with this strange trio with a pinch of salt. Judging by the amount of negative energy they each carried, he assumed the three of them were sadistic morons who enjoyed torturing their prey before indulging in their meal. He didn’t mind that, either, in fact, he wished for them to be bigger assholes, hoping to be tortured to death. The longer they took, the better his chances of feeding on the negative energy and converting it into death affinity.

One reason why scars never heal properly is because of this affinity. It’s a weaker version of darkness, but beggars can’t be choosers. He taunted and injured them, forcing them to make him their next outlet for frustration until that slithery moron forced a memory he suppressed deep within himself.

“Swallow it!” Mary laughed at him, forcing more light into him—forcing him to heal. She is the first person who found a way to torture Ric in a way he doesn’t appreciate, and he is going to take out that frustration on these imbeciles.

The aura covering the townhouse dissipates, congealing over Ric. In one huge gulp, he swallows the leaves and absorbs every bit of light from the hall. To maintain balance, the environment drains the trio’s vital energy at an alarming rate.

Uvrodon’s eyes widen as his tail becomes a blur, cutting Ric from head to toe. Blood paints the walls red before a purple sheen corrodes it from the inside, turning it into a darker hue.

Claude and Bart turn away with a sigh, longing to head back for their afternoon ale—the only source of bliss in this despairing world. They have even ordered the tavern owner to ice their drinks at a certain time every day, ensuring they can enjoy a cup before breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But the stunt Uvrodon pulled at the wall had already wasted so much of their time, and now, if he took his sweet time torturing the kid, they might never get back in time. With the kid being split open, at least now everything would be over in a minute.

“I do like tender little boys.” Hissed Uvrodon, to only find the kid nodding, calling him over. “Hass... last words.” He complies with the request, bending forward.

“What a coincidence, so do I!” Ric said with a demonic smile spreading on his lips.

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