I was slightly ashamed for dragging something that should have been a formality for so long. But... I couldn't kill the Demon Lord immediately. We needed time to capture many of his soldiers, interrogate them, and find the Devilkin kingdom. While killing everyone who attacked Arcadia wasn't a particularly hard decision to make, the risk of accidentally committing genocide against an entire race was something I wanted to avoid. They weren’t feral goblins or winter beasts that deserved extermination.

Before, I had been willing to sacrifice them for the safety of the world, but circumstances had changed. Thanks to Cahrona and her true redemption, I was sure the Devilkins could be saved. That’s why my Queens devised a plan to save them. Of course, I had a far darker Plan B in case their plan failed. But to even consider that, we needed to take as many prisoners as possible. That’s why this battle dragged on, and I was stuck in this awkward conversation in the middle of a fight—to buy time.

There were other reasons why I needed to end this battle as quickly as possible. Arcadia was extremely vulnerable to any potential attacks. My fleet was spread thin across the cities, pretending to search for the enemy frantically. The Guardsmen Corps, meanwhile, was essentially on a field trip because I was confident the undead army attacking the other cities would vanish as soon as reinforcements arrived.

Though my Guardsmen were more than willing to fight, I wasn’t keen to waste their potential or sacrifice their lives needlessly. My loyal people were my most precious resource, and I wasn’t about to lose them foolishly. That was why I used them as the perfect diversion. Of course, there was always the chance I was wrong. If the undead hordes besieging the Dungeon Cities didn’t relent, the Guardsmen’s intervention would be the only hope for the defenders. But for now, I gave the Devilkins precisely what they wanted to see: I was weakening Avalon's defenses in their eyes. In reality, I had fortified them with the might of four Legions.

Then there was the original model of cringe himself—His Highness of Edgelordness, the Demon Lord. I was fully prepared to wipe the floor with his sorry ass. In fact, I was dragging this fight out as a form of personal revenge for all the sleepless nights and endless weeks of planning. I had thought the Devilkins were a major threat, but they turned out to be giants made of paper. It was fortunate, sure, but also incredibly frustrating.

I may no longer be human, but the spiteful spirit of humanity was alive and well in me. As petty as it was, I was going to teach that arrogant twat what fear truly felt like. In hindsight, when the Void portal started opening in my own basement, I could only be mad at myself. Panic didn’t set in because, once it appeared, whatever that had planned to use it backed off. Maybe they decided fighting me wasn’t worth the trouble—or perhaps the entity behind it remembered they left their stove on and went home to turn it off. At this point, any guess was as good as another.

"Limit Break," Sârtuuh barked.

I twitched, expecting fireworks to erupt at any moment, but aside from a faint pinkish aura surrounding him, nothing changed. For a brief moment, shock spread across the Demon Lord’s face. Whatever it was, however, it quickly gave way to the usual anger he’d worn before. His attacks remained the same—perhaps he’d gained some elemental affinity, but it was virtually harmless against me.

My amazement grew, though I wasn’t that surprised. It didn’t take a genius to see that the Devilkins specialized in quick, shock-type raids. Against a proper army, they struggled, even risking total defeat. Trying to storm the largest and most fortified star fortress in Arcadia while facing me and my Legions? That was doomed from the start. Sârtuuh was powerful, but he couldn’t even compare to Korkas.

"My Gods blessed me with their power!" The Demon Lord laughed with glee, and the pinkish aura spread to cover his sword.

"Good for you, I guess," I replied, sounding more bored than I’d intended.

"Stop mocking me!" he shouted, his voice filled with sudden hatred. With a furious burst, he leapt toward me, his bat-like wings propelling him forward.

His attack was so amateurish and predictable that after I instinctively parried it, I found myself surprised by the frustration on Sârtuuh's face. Why was he surprised when he insisted on using such easily readable moves? As I studied him, he began to resemble an overgrown bat more and more. His thick, short horns were more bull-like, disrupting his image slightly. His muscular frame seemed out of place, but his short, dark brown hair—resembling bat fur—covered his head and forearms. I was almost certain now that he was some kind of Beastkin, maybe even a hybrid, but definitely not a true Demon. At least not a Demon as I understood it.

Convinced that I wasn’t up against a supernatural, powerful being, I shifted my focus to his martial skills. With broad, sweeping cuts, his fighting style relied entirely on brute strength. Such an unsophisticated approach might work against low-level enemies or those caught off guard, but it failed miserably against someone who knew what they were doing.

Sârtuuh wielded a long, heavy broadsword, and I had quickly deduced that he wasn’t physically suited for prolonged combat with it. While he gradually became stronger and faster, it was hardly enough to compensate for his lack of technique. Killing him immediately had its advantages, but it would complicate things. The Devilkin forces lacked the cohesion of a truly unified army, and losing their leader would likely plunge them into disarray and chaos. I couldn’t risk them fleeing the battlefield and disappearing into the shadows, especially with Avalon under siege. I needed to capture or kill them all to prevent future problems.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Sârtuuh’s frustration grew with each failed attack, but instead of adapting, he just repeated the same mistakes, putting more force behind them. I wanted to understand how and why the Ruinous Powers empowered him. Such knowledge would be invaluable in future battles. Yet, no matter what I tried, I couldn’t see beyond the obvious buffs he’d received. As I was about to give up, the pieces finally clicked, and I unraveled the mystery.

Deamonification.

Zephyr, Hera, and Zeus had briefly described the process. It was poorly understood, but if I got it right, it led to the creation of an entity similar to Voidlings or even a Voidborn. For me, this was further evidence that Void and Chaos were separate entities, temporarily allied by a common goal. In Sârtuuh’s case, "deamonification" seemed to be the closest thing to him truly becoming a Demon.

Curiosity poked my wrong side, whispering to let him fully transform so I could gauge his new abilities. But common sense quickly smothered that reckless thought, and I resolved to end him the moment he became too difficult to contain without resorting to my full power. For now, though, observation was key to understanding the forces trying to destroy my universe, so I watched.

Sârtuuh continued to brute-force blows and cuts in the hope of overwhelming my defence, which was a fairly interesting exercise in futility. His heavy sword was nothing more than a heavy lump of metal, and despite its size, there was nothing impressive about it. A simple strike in the upper part of his blade, the sword’s weak, was enough to completely nullify his attacks and make him fully open for a deadly counter.

While I studied how the Ruinous Powers boosted their supporters, Amber, Luna, Hestia, and Stella were figuring out how to seal the portal. They had tested several ideas so far—some more successful than others. The opportunity in front of us was our best chance to find a reliable way to protect ourselves from future interdimensional intrusions. At first, that concept scared them, but after a moment they needed to reconsider; they approached the topic enthusiastically but without any unnecessary bravado. Stella informed me about their progress while I gauged how Sârtuuh changed.

"You won’t win!" he laughed, slashing unexpectedly with his claws. I deflected the blow with one of my swords. I really should develop a shield that could pass as a blade for my skill. It would come in handy.

"At first, I thought you were a master fencer, but I can easily block your attacks!" he taunted.

"If you say so..." I shrugged, deciding to subtly prove him wrong.

If he was going to start feeling comfortable during that fight, my plan to teach him fear may fail. I delivered two rapid cuts that left long but shallow wounds on his chest. I was surprised more than he was. I intended my weapons to bounce off his armour, but instead, my swords cut right through the solid-looking cuirass. For a moment, he stood stupefied in shock, looking at his thick, crimson blood seeping through the gaps in the metal.

"Berserker Rage!" he roared, fury consuming him as he lashed out like a rabid animal, swinging wildly in a desperate attempt to wound me in any way possible.

With each strike, he grew faster and stronger, but his attacks became simpler. After a few moments of wild fury, he leaped back and growled. This wasn’t just the effect of his Berserker Rage—something else was at work. His body had become bulkier and his fur longer. His eyes were clouded, losing the viciousness and arrogance they once held. However, I had seen such eyes before.

"You’ve forsaken your soul just to gain power to defeat me?" I asked. "Your Limit Break was just a bluff. Your new powers are nothing new to me. Your skills are working in unpredictable ways. Was it really worth it?"

"Huuurtaa." The dark, twisted language forced its way into existence once again, and a black fireball knocked me back.

He continued hurling black flames towards me in rapid succession. My barriers barely held when one of the most dangerous spells I ever encountered shattered them. The soul-shattering spell, unique to Devilkin, was stopped by the same barrier that saved me last time. I blinked and punched Sârtuuh square in the face, landing softly on the ground afterward. At three meters tall, hitting him otherwise would have required a ladder… Or at least a chair, even for me.. He stumbled back and dropped to the ground, stunned by the blow, but quickly wiped the blood from his broken nose. However, he was not quick enough. I stood over him, my gaze cold and merciless. I raised my weapon, and I was about to take his head when a sleek sword intercepted the execution, stopping me mid-swing.

"Ahh... my apologies, Champion of Eriar. My Masters still have need of him." The man’s voice, apprehensive yet polite, echoed unnaturally across the courtyard, cutting through the chaos around us as he held his sleek sword firmly in place.

"That’s unfortunate for them." Sensing the man's power, I immediately activated all my auras. "Daemon Slaying Blade: Galatine."

The dark aura surrounding his weapon shattered, forcing the man to disengage to avoid injury. One glance was enough to realise I was facing someone on par with Korkas or perhaps someone even more powerful. He was tall, though not as tall as me, with short, light brown hair that made him appear young. His face might have been considered handsome if not for his eyes—two unsettling orbs of absolute darkness that seemed to pull at my very soul. Despite the void in his gaze, I could feel his focus. He was fully committed to his task, but at the same time, he was careful.

He wore a simple dark robe beneath shining armour that looked like it belonged to a knight from a fairy tale. I took all of this in within a second, then immediately moved to strike. At the last moment, he conjured a plain kite shield, managing to deflect the blow aimed at the gap in the armour just beneath his armpit.

The enemy was skilled, but he struggled to keep up with me. As I pressed him further, it became clear—this man was a highly experienced fencer, hardened by countless battles. I’d encountered warriors like him before: Blair, Sigismund, and Knys, but he surpassed even them in experience. His mastery of martial and blade skills, paired with the youthful strength of his body, gave him just enough of an edge to close the gap between us. There was no doubt in my mind—this man had crossed through a Chaos Portal. Soo... I guess: play stupid games and win stupid prizes.

"I shouldn't fight you! I will simply retrieve those two and–"

"No," I interrupted calmly, the glow of my Galatine illuminating the surrounding darkness. "I can't allow someone as powerful and well-informed as you to just walk away. You called me Champion intentionally. Anyone else would have called me a Hero. Who are you?"

"Well, I suppose some introductions are in order..." The man let out a short, mad cackle. "A long time ago, I was known as Darik Ethil, but no longer. I abandoned that name along with this cursed world. Now, you can call me Urbil, though it hardly matters. I'm merely a herald—you can call me just that." He paused, his unsettling eyes gleaming. "But you already know what I am... I am the Hero of the High God of Void, Paa'grantar."