Pov Leon

Nemesis, the elf boy, sat before me, his voice steady but tinged with hesitation. Vorthan, my loyal blood demon butler, sat nearby, crimson eyes flicking between us. Nemesis’s loyalty was still tentative—barely an hour into his servitude—while Vorthan’s unwavering devotion practically radiated from his posture.

I listened carefully as Nemesis began to recount what he knew of the lands beyond his old village. Most of what he offered was a patchwork of scattered teachings from his mother and rumors he'd overheard. So, the information wouldn't be the most reliable, but it was better than nothing at all and would save us a lot of time wasted searching for it.

“We’re on a floating island,” he began, “a massive one. It drifts across the skies, and depending on its position, the environment can turn deadly. When the island drifts close to the sun’s path or during summertime, the heat becomes so intense that anyone without a high-level heat resistance skill would die instantly under its rays. When it nears the southern pole, we risk freezing to death instead. That’s where the Rank 9 Ice-Water Dragon resides—the one they say is close to ascending into a demi-god. Its lair has turned the pole into an eternal glacier.”

So based on what he said I could guess that this floating island was roughly the size of Alaska, back on Earth. After I finished calculating the size of the Island I nodded, motioning for him to continue.

“To the east, in the plains, there’s a tense conflict between three races—Humans, Orcs, and Lycanthropes. They’ve been skirmishing for decades, though there hasn’t been a full-scale war in twenty years. How much longer that peace will last, no one knows.” Nemesis said with a hint of jealousy and longing. I could feel the thirst for battle so he could grow inside of him.

“And the west?” I asked.

“Near the mountains,” Nemesis said, “you’ll find the Dwarves. They’re locked in a bitter struggle with a monster race called Gnolls and another humanoid race, the Elementists. Not much is known about the Elementists—they’re a mystery even to the Dwarves. As for the Gnolls, they’re mindless beasts, killed on sight by anyone who encounters them. Some type of monster race lives on the mountain tops but I don't know what they are”

He hesitated before continuing. “South of us lies a massive swamp ruled by the Lizardmen. No one ventures there willingly—not just because of the swamp’s terrain or the monstrous insectoids that dwell there, but because of the deadly poison fog that blankets the area. Anyone without significant poison resistance would be dead long before reaching the edge of the swamp. Inside the swamp, the poison is so powerful that it is said that the Ice Dragon flaps its wings to push us away from us. But nobody knows if that is true or just the ramblings of a madman.”

I turned my gaze to Vorthan. “Send a squad to recall the shadow imps heading south. I won’t have them throwing their lives away in that toxic wasteland.”

Vorthan bowed low, his spiked tail wagging briefly, almost like an eager hound. Without a word, he vanished from the room to carry out my order.

I gestured for Nemesis to continue. He hesitated, gathering his thoughts, then spoke again. “North is weird since the only thing I was ever told was that elves live here in the forest and that they kill anything coming into the forest that wasn't a creature born here in nature. There are many floating islands scattered across the skies, but I don’t know how many in total. What I do know is that these islands aren’t meant to support the growth of high-ranking beings. They’re more like training grounds for weaker ones. To reach the main continents, there are four known methods."

“First, you can wait until the island drifts close enough to a mainland. Second, there are flying ships that travel between islands, collecting rare goods and ferrying passengers—for a price. Third, you could use spatial magic or portal bridges, but those are controlled by powerful clans and organizations. The fourth method…” He trailed off, his voice dropping. “The most dangerous: you jump off the island’s edge and swim to the mainland. But the oceans are teeming with high-ranking monsters. Few survive the attempt.”

I leaned back on my throne, fingers steepled in thought. As a leech, I might survive the waters below. Yet, the uncertainty gnawed at me. Would my race fare well in saltwater as other types of leeches would? Testing that theory would have to wait. For now, my focus was on building a means of reaching the mainland with my growing army. An abandoned or damaged portal bridge might be my best option. With my space affinity, I could study and repair it, potentially creating a pathway to the continents or stealing one of these flying ships. Maybe even making a deal with the owners of said ships bringing them to my side.

Nemesis’s voice broke my reverie as he rambled about herbs and poison plants. I raised a hand, silencing him. “Nemesis, which races do you believe would be most open to working with us? And which ones should we avoid?”

He tilted his head, considering the question before replying. “The Humans and Dwarves are your best bet. My parents dealt with both in the past. They’re pragmatic—so long as you offer something of value during negotiations, they’ll listen. The Lycanthropes are more complicated. They respect strength above all else. If you can hold your own against them in combat—and show restraint—they’ll see you as an honorable warrior."

“As for Fire Elves like myself…” He sighed. “They’ll attack on sight. They view all other races as inferior—slaves or vermin. Dark Elves might work with us if any still live. They’ve always had ties to demons as summoners, but I don’t know their current state or location. The Lizardmen are a lost cause—they attack anything without scales. While you might have a chance to speak with them, their poison is hardly worth the effort. Orcs? They kill indiscriminately, even their kind if they’re from different tribes. The Elementists are too much of an unknown. You’d need to gather intelligence from the Dwarves before approaching them.”

I nodded, satisfied for the moment. “So, Humans and Dwarves. Between them, which has the better craftsmen?”

“Dwarves excel in smithing, stonework, and brewing, but in other crafts that use magic they fall behind due to the lower mana reserves dwarves have,” Nemesis explained. “But there aren’t many of them here on this island, so they guard their artisans carefully. Humans, on the other hand, dominate in sheer numbers. Their craftsmanship is widespread in many different fields of craft, but their skill levels vary due to limited resources. It is said that if there is money to be made humans will learn about it and exploit it to make more money. The elite hoard materials, selling scraps to the lower ranks at exorbitant prices. Still, human craftsmen are loyal to those who provide for them. If you supply them with resources and sign soul-binding contracts, many will uproot their families to serve you exclusively. My mother once told me that even among Orc tribes, human artisans thrive as long as they’re well-compensated.”

His voice faltered, a flicker of longing and sadness crossing his face. He quickly recovered, bowing his head. “That is all I know.”

“Good,” I said, rising from my throne. “Then our next move is clear. I will have the human craftsmen join us, but first I will need to locate places to get these resources or take them from merchants traveling to sell their wares. But who will go to the humans and how will they react to the demons?” I asked him.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"But who will go to the humans, and how will they react to the demons?" I asked, voicing my concern.

Nemesis tilted his head slightly, ears twitching as he deliberated. "They shouldn’t react too harshly as long as I act under the guise of my master’s orders and present the demons as my guards. However, the demons will need to be of a higher rank, and I’ll require a stronger presence to handle human suspicions and avoid outright hostility. Avoiding the churches will be critical; the holy ones would lose control and attempt to destroy us on sight. The city guards might tolerate us if we come bearing suitable bribes."

"Bribes, of course. Money makes the world go round in human history," I muttered, considering his point. "Do we have access to enough resources, or will we need to rob shipments to fund this venture?"

Nemesis shook his head quickly, a glint of excitement flashing in his eyes. "No need for robbery. The dungeons across this island can provide everything we need. Resources, treasures, and even coins—everything resets after completion, allowing us to clear them repeatedly. They’re separated by instances, so no one can interfere with another’s run. The elves here strip these dungeons clean for their needs. Plus, clearing dungeons will level us up quickly, making us stronger in the process."

His enthusiasm was palpable—his ears wiggled as if responding to his excitement. It was almost amusing.

"Nemesis," I said, my voice calm but laced with annoyance, "this is critical information. Why am I only hearing about it now?"

He flinched, ears drooping instantly. "My apologies. It’s just… it’s been so long since I’ve spoken to anyone who wasn’t beating me. I didn’t mean to withhold it—I’ve told you everything I know now. Please forgive me." Shame radiated from him, his head lowered.

I paused, observing him. It seemed elves were particularly expressive through their ears, much like how Vorthan’s tails betrayed his mood. Perhaps this trait was shared among animalistic beings. Humans, too, had subtle tells—ticks that revealed their emotions. Studying these nuances would give me an edge when dealing with different races in the future. For now, though, I had to address Nemesis.

"You’re forgiven," I said, my tone softening. "It’s only natural to crave conversation with those who mean you no harm. However, in the future, ensure I have all the information I need to make decisions."

Nemesis nodded quickly, his ears perking up slightly.

"Now, about your training," I continued. "You’ll need resistance skills to protect yourself—poison, fire, wind, even pain resistance. These skills make a difference. My flame resistance, for instance, makes most attacks useless against me and reduces damage from those that do land. Pain resistance will let you keep fighting without flinching."

His expression twisted in discomfort. "Resistance training… Nobody sane does that. It’s agonizing, expensive, and requires constant healing. Most healers are holy class and won’t work with us because of the demons." He shuddered at the thought.

I waved off his concern. "Don’t worry. I have a method that heals while training resistance. I’ll need to ask my patron to adjust it so you and others I choose can use it. Besides, the stronger your resistance skills, the greater your rewards. Think of it as an investment in your future strength."

Nemesis didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he nodded hesitantly.

At that moment, Vorthan entered the room, bowing deeply. "Master, I’ve dispatched another team to retrieve the shadow imps heading south. They should return within two days."

"Good," I replied, motioning for him to take his seat. "Plans have changed. We’ll be focusing on dungeon runs to gather resources and treasures while leveling up. Once Nemesis and the demons are at suitable levels, we’ll send him to a human settlement to establish trade and recruit craftsmen to support us."

I glanced at both of them. "Any questions?"

To my surprise, Vorthan spoke first. "Master, what do you mean by dungeons? There shouldn’t be as many as Nemesis claims. The one who created them was only Rank 9 the last time I encountered him. And… what is an instance?" His tail coiled tightly around his leg, signaling unease.

I turned to Nemesis for clarification, but he appeared equally confused.

"What do you mean, Vorthan? Dungeons have always been plentiful. Some even appear at random. And instances separate dungeon spaces for each team or individual. I thought everyone knew this," Nemesis said, his confusion mirroring Vorthan’s.

Vorthan’s expression hardened, his tail twitching. "Master, I suggest summoning a knowledge demon. I can guide you through the ritual. These demons are bound to truth and will answer all questions, but they don’t adhere to traditional summoning rules. Be cautious. Even the weakest knowledge demon is Rank 6, but they despise violence and betrayal, so they’ll serve loyally as long as you honor your oath to them."

I nodded slowly, intrigued. "Prepare the ritual. I’ll summon one under the condition it won’t harm me or my servants. What if it already serves another demon?"

"They only serve the Demon King," Vorthan replied confidently. "He doesn’t interfere in mortal affairs. As long as we uphold our pact, we’ll be safe."

I gave my approval, watching as Vorthan began the ritual. The air grew heavy with power as I cut my palm, drawing intricate symbols within the summoning circle. Repeating Vorthan’s words in the demonic tongue, I felt my mana drain rapidly, followed by my health. Desperate to survive, I drained Vorthan’s blood, stopping just short of killing him, then resorted to the blood pool behind my throne.

Finally, the ritual was completed, leaving me on the brink of collapse. A black sphere of lightning formed within the circle, cracking the air itself. The room filled with the sound of chains, metallic footsteps, and unnatural breathing—a cacophony that tested the limits of my sanity.

The presence drew closer, and I steeled myself on the throne, gripping its armrests to avoid succumbing to fear. Then, I saw it: a rune-covered cane, followed by the figure of the demon.

It was massive, its sheer presence overwhelming. But as it stepped through, its form began to twist and shrink, bones cracking grotesquely as it adapted. When its face came into view, my heart stopped. My mind broke only the cracked white mask it wore, with empty eye holes and a jagged smile, that it returned to how it was before it broke keeping me from losing myself entirely.

The knowledge demon had arrived.

The first words from its cracked, mask-covered visage were chilling, resonating in a discordant harmony of countless voices speaking as one: "Vorthan, you have failed to train him properly. The newest prince squanders his potential as a mage. Vlados has petitioned the King to send me as your knowledge demon. All candidates vying for the throne are assigned one, ensuring they stand a fair chance to ascend as Demon King. By the decree of the King so me being sent to you was only natural."

It turned its gaze toward Vorthan, who lay twitching on the ground, drained of blood. A sinister chuckle echoed from beneath the mask, its layered tones carrying the unsettling cadence of many beings laughing through a single voice.

My mind was still teetering on the edge of collapse when the knowledge demon raised its hand, dismissing the blood armor and mask that concealed my true form. With a cold, deliberate touch to my forehead, it linked itself to my royal sin insignia. An overwhelming surge of knowledge flooded my mind as the demon delved into the deepest recesses of my mental library, uncovering even the secrets I had buried to keep hidden from myself.

It withdrew its hand, leaving me gasping, as all the stolen knowledge—everything I was never meant to possess—vanished, leaving only a single remnant behind: its name. A name so complex and alien that my mortal tongue could never hope to pronounce it.

"Good, your traits and the choices you have made have been reckless but correct. It seems that the demon king withheld information from me you have only had Vorthan by your time for a short while. No matter I just have to teach you to use true magic." it declared, its voice a maddening chorus of tones, each resonating with a unique timbre. "I can work with this. As a token for breaking your fragile mind, I shall even teach the half-breed to awaken his demonic nature instinctively."