I calmed my breathing, letting the tension of the battle slowly drain from my muscles. Solara sat beside me, the silence between us heavy. Her breathing had finally evened out, but her eyes kept flickering between the two bodies—Calista’s remains scattered near the wall and Sevrin’s corpse lying lifeless on the ground.

She stayed quiet for a moment longer before her voice cut through the stillness. “...How did you know?” She asked vaguely, her eyes not meeting mine as they stayed fixed on the carnage.

I raised an eyebrow, glancing at her. “What?”

“That there was a tenth boss,” she said, her voice measured but tinged with curiosity. “And that it could be summoned as a benefactor.”

I didn’t respond immediately, letting the question hang between us. My gaze dropped to the bloodstained floor. The smell of death lingered in the air, mixing with the cold, damp atmosphere of the dungeon. After a moment, I finally spoke, my voice calm.

“I know a lot of things that normal people don’t, my dear.” I kept my eyes on the blood, my tone casual as I added, “Just like how I knew how to heal your wings.”

Her head snapped toward me, her eyes settling on me with a question. “So… it wasn’t Sikandar?”

“Yes, it wasn’t Sikandar,” I replied.

She scoffed, a smile tugging at her lips as she looked away, a soft laugh escaping her. “I knew it. Grandpa couldn’t have told anyone, not even Sikandar.” The sound of her low laughter echoed faintly, but it quickly faded, replaced by something darker. Her smile vanished, and she turned her gaze back to me, eyes sharp. “Then why did you help me?”

I ran a hand through my sweaty hair, letting out a sigh.

The dim light of the dungeon reflected off the blood coating the walls, and I stared at the ceiling for a moment, wishing I could see the sky instead of these damn stone slabs closing in. She was surprisingly calm given the situation, and somehow that made it harder to deal with.

“I...” I began, muttering the words consciously. “I need powerful individuals behind me. Subordinates. People who can stand at my side as I raise a Cult.” I turned to her, meeting her gaze head-on. “And I thought you’d make a perfect member.”

She stared without a change in her expression, her voice dropping lower. “Because I have nowhere else to return to?”

“Because you’re strong and have nowhere else to return to,” I corrected her.

Solara laughed, a bitter sound escaping her lips. “You could’ve sugar-coated that, you know.”

“I don’t want to lie, Solara,” I said, my tone matter-of-fact. “Not when I just got my cover blown. Already.” The remnants of the demonic energy crackled around me, a reminder of what I had just revealed. Instead of hiding it, I let a faint mist of red Qi leak from my body. The demonic energy filled the room, pressing down on us both.

Her smile faded, and her eyes grew sharper as she observed the energy. “So, what exactly are you?” she asked, her voice quieter now. “A shapeshifting demon? Or could it be that you’re just the original Iskandaar who made a deal with one of the Devils?”

“Why, I’m Iskandaar Romani, loser son of a count,” I said with a small smile. “But I’m sure, soon enough, people will start calling me a cult leader, the Heavenly Demon.”

“The Heavenly Demon…” Solara stayed silent for a beat, watching me closely. Her sharp eyes were searching for something in my expression that wasn’t there. Silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Finally, I took a step toward her, looming over her as she sat on the cold dungeon floor. She didn’t flinch, nor show any sign of fear.

“Solara,” I said softly, but with weight behind my words. “When I asked you to become my subordinate that day, I didn’t mention what I wanted you to be my subordinate in.”

“Maybe I should’ve asked,” she agreed, her gaze never leaving mine. “I’d have demanded more than just my wings if I knew the stakes were this high. Such as rebuilding the Fenixia Family or something.”

“Well. It’s never too late, is it? What is a simple family revival to a deity?” I said to her, making her almost laugh. She controlled herself when she noticed my serious expression.

“....” She had meant it as a joke, but I didn’t.

“Followers of the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult get everything they wish for. For I, the Heavenly Demon will bring down the moon if that is their wish. You want your family’s rebuilding, and I want you, Solara Fenixia. So I ask you, the last embers of the phoenix,” I extended my hand toward her, “won’t you burn bright like a star and own the skies with wings that I have granted you?”

Solara’s expression was tight now. She knew what this meant as much as I did. Her eyes drifted to my outstretched hand, lingering there for a long moment before locking with mine again. “...You could’ve dodged Sevrin’s sword skill. You can teleport. Why didn’t you?”

I said nothing, keeping my gaze steady on hers. She didn’t need an answer. She already knew it if she was asking the question. We stayed like that for a moment, the silence between us thick. She looked at my hand again… and then reached out to take it.

“A Phoenix does not go back on her word,” the Fenixia said, her voice steady but full of emotion. “I, Solara Fenixia, the last of my name, will fulfill my end of the promise.” She looked up at me as I pulled her to her feet, and then, with a solemn bow, she pressed her forehead to my hand. “Iskandaar Romani, the Heavenly Demon, whatever you are, will have the Phoenix’s loyalty till the end of this life and then my rebirth.”

I watched her closely as she held my hand to her forehead, submitting herself to me. Was it my new promise or my reminder of her wings that made her submit? I didn’t know. What happened was that her promise was as true as it was eternal, and I felt a sense of satisfaction settle in my chest.

I didn’t smile, but I could feel the quiet acknowledgment between us. This was only the beginning. The stars of the Heavenly Demon were aligning, and Solara Fenixia would burn brightly among them.

Today, the Heavenly Demon Divine Cult was born.

“Now,” I said. “Allow me to grant you your first task.”

****

Victor Seraph stood behind the open window of his room, his gaze fixed on the sprawling view of Waybound City far below.

The titanic academy building seemed to stretch endlessly beneath him, and from this height, the city looked so insignificant, so small. A soft, cool breeze blew through the open window, ruffling his dark hair as he exhaled a slow, steady stream of smoke from the tobacco pipe clutched between his lips.

“From the rooftop, the sight is even more pleasant,” he let out a whistle. Unfortunately, the rooftop wasn’t accessible to everyone. The one time he’d gone there, he’d fallen in love with the view. Victor loved looking down at the world.

He was shirtless, his toned, pristine body glistening in the dim light of his quarters. At his age at the academy, students bore some scars, even if the tiniest. He had none. His powers made him indestructible. Invincible. And yet, for all his strength, he wasn’t immune to anticipation. The waiting gnawed at him at this very moment, his fingers tapping against the window frame.

The dungeon expedition should have ended by now. News should be arriving anytime now. He had sent his lackeys down there for a reason, and if all had gone according to plan, today would mark the day he’d fix his father’s overlook.

– Tut, Tut.

As if on cue, faint knocks fell on his door and broke his concentration, though he didn’t turn. He kept his eyes trained on the city below, swirling the pipe between his fingers as he spoke.

“Come in,” he called, his voice calm. He expected Calista—for her to come inside and give him the good news. She always knew when to make herself useful, and he liked that about her. The girl was amusing in her own distant, fake closeness. He didn’t mind. She knew her role, even if she played it coldly.

But as the door creaked open, the voice that followed was not hers. “Lord Victor!”

The man’s shrill panic cut through the air, sharp and grating. Victor turned slowly, his eyes narrowing at the sight of one of his minions. The fool was drenched in sweat, his chest heaving as if he had sprinted the entire way here.

Victor’s calm demeanor shifted slightly. “What is it?” His voice was cold and flat as he took the pipe from his mouth and tapped the ash into a nearby tray. This sweating fool wasn’t related to the mission he gave to Calista; he had no idea about it, so he likely didn’t bring any interesting report. The day had just taken a dull turn.

The young noble swallowed hard, the fear visible on his face. “It’s bad news... really bad news! Something serious has happened. Prince Orion’s group encountered monsters in the dungeon, monsters that weren’t accounted for. The prince was seriously injured, and…” the minion’s voice wavered. “One of his teammates, Edward Blackwood... died during the expedition. The entire academy’s in uproar!”

Victor raised an eyebrow, but he didn’t look bothered. The prince was alive, so what was the uproar about? His tone remained indifferent as he leaned back against the windowsill, the pipe now forgotten in his hand. “Is that all?” He sighed, his gaze turning back to the window. He really wanted to hear the news from Calista. Why was that girl late? “That doesn’t sound nearly interesting enough for you to come running here, sweating like a dog. Anything else? And who was in charge of the team?”

The minion hesitated hearing his disinterest, his voice shaky as he replied, “It was... it was your classmate, Zahra Al-Zahiri.”

That caught Victor’s attention. His brow furrowed slightly, and he turned back to the man, his eyes narrowing. “Zahra was there, and there was still a casualty?” His voice took on a sharper edge, his interest rekindled. Zahra was strong, even by his standards, and she wasn’t someone easily caught off guard. For someone to die under her watch… something wasn’t adding up.

“She and the rest of her group reported it wasn’t a normal monster,” the minion, whose name Victor found it hard to recall, stammered. “They said... it was a demon. A demon inside the academy’s dungeon!”

Victor’s scowl deepened, his jaw tightening as he considered the possibility. A demon? In the academy? What the hell was going on?

He tapped the pipe against the windowsill, the weight of the situation settling over him. “A demon, you say?” His voice was calm, but the wheels in his mind were already turning. “That’s serious... if it’s true.”

The minion nodded quickly, eager to continue. “Yes, my lord! Ah, and that’s not all—another group of students was attacked by a demon as well.”

“Hm?”

“You remember Sevrin, right? He’s one of our people. He was killed in the fight, along with another student from their group.” Victor froze on his spot, as the minion hesitated for a moment as if unsure whether to continue. “There’s a lot of confusion about whether it was the same demon that attacked the Prince’s group. Because the demonic energy signature in this group’s dungeon was diluted by pure Fire Mana. Apparently, Solara Fenixia nearly blew herself up trying to stop it, destroying most of the boss room in the process. So all that remains there are engulfed in flames.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed. Sevrin is fucking dead? How? And Solara… His thoughts raced, but he remained composed on the surface. “You said she nearly died, meaning she’s alive?” His voice was cold, but underneath, he was calculating.

Sevrin was dead. And somehow Solara had survived? Had his plans gone wrong?

The minion nodded frantically. “Yes, my lord! She was on the brink of death, but she survived. The healers took her in. Oh, and—” the man suddenly paled as if realizing something far more important. “I... I think that glasses girl who visited your chambers yesterday, Calista, right? She was part of that group... Alongside Sevrin, she’s dead too.”

Victor’s expression darkened in an instant. Victor didn’t move, didn’t even blink. His chest rose and fell slowly, but the tension in his body was visible, like a coiled snake waiting to strike. The minion shifted uncomfortably, clearly sensing the storm about to break.

The air in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Without warning, Victor moved. He moved faster than the minion could react, slamming the young man’s head against the stone floor with a force that reverberated through the room.

The little punk let out a strangled gasp, his body going limp as Victor’s hand clenched his hair, keeping his face pressed against the cold ground. “You worthless little shit!” Victor growled, his voice venomous. “Why didn’t you start with that?!”

His chest heaved with anger, his grip tightening as the minion whimpered beneath him. Calista... was dead? A girl he had taken a liking to, someone he had plans for, gone in an instant. And Sevrin? Dead too? He was a decently useful pawn. He had sent Sevrin there for a reason, and now all his plans had crumbled in that damned dungeon.

Worst of all, Solara wasn’t dead.

That fiery bitch had survived. Almost dead wasn’t good enough. She had to be gone. No loose ends, no complications. Victor released his grip, letting the minion crumple to the floor, sobbing and trembling as he struggled to catch his breath. He stood over him, his fists clenched, eyes burning with cold fury.

Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

“What the hell happened in that dungeon?” Victor muttered under his breath, his mind racing as he pieced together the scattered fragments of information. His hand tightened around the tobacco pipe, snapping it in half as he glared down at the pitiful creature groveling at his feet.

Demons in the dungeon, his minions dead, and Solara still alive? None of this made sense. None of it. How did only his people die? Sevrin wasn’t the type to protect his juniors with his life. There was something sketchy going on. Definitely.

This was more than just a coincidence. Something... or someone... had disrupted his plans, and whoever it was would pay for it.

“...Iskandaar Romani,” Victor turned toward the window, his mind spinning with new possibilities. That young bastard was too odd; could this situation be related to him?

The blood of Sikandar, Victor’s hand clenched on the window frame. The wood cracked. He didn’t believe the demon excuse. I might have underestimated him a bit too much.

****

Back in the game Arcane Crown, this episode was a demon attack that happened in the dungeon. A standard mid-tier boss encounter, a subordinate of one of the Four Demonic Generals. It’d serve as a foundation for Orion’s hate toward demons, as well as the build-up toward the actual demon invasion a few episodes down the line.

But that was Orion’s worry. That was why I didn’t bother myself with it. I had my own stuff to take care of. Such as the injured Solara, who followed my command to a T and was currently unconscious. She’d be fine. She’s a phoenix. Thanks to her sacrifice, I could still stand here.

I had no other choice but to order her to do that. I couldn’t try to cover the demonic energy in the dungeon by using the excuse that ‘it was the same demon, or at least someone from its group, who attacked our team!’ when my mana signature could be found all over the demonic energy. But now that the Boss Room was burning with phoenix fire, only Solara’s energy remained there.

This could have been bad. No, it could still go wrong down the line if someday people find out about my demonic energy—they would assume the demon that attacked Prince Orion’s group was a friend of mine. I was getting more tangled in this mess than I wanted to.

“Let’s move on to the urgent topic,” the principal said in front of me. The room was spacious, filled with a heavy atmosphere that seemed to press down on me as I stood before a curved table.

Seated at it were the professors of Waybound Academy, their eyes trained on me with varying levels of intensity. Each of them represented different branches of magic, combat, and arcane arts, and this wasn’t a friendly gathering. They were here to interrogate me.

At the center sat Principal Ardath Valenwood, his long, graying beard trailing down to his chest. His sharp eyes bore into me, silently demanding an explanation. To his right was Professor Katheran, the man who had led the dungeon expedition. His sunglasses were still on, but he didn’t look as lazy as ever.

While he had joked about finding it bothersome to send dead bodies to students’ homes, he was on edge after students from his class were killed. By demons, no less.

To the left of the principal was Professor Lysandra Thorne. An elf. She was the professor of Healing Magic and Restoration. She sat forward, her long, silver hair falling over her shoulders as she watched me with narrowed eyes. She had been the one responsible for tending to the injured after the dungeon debacle, so I wasn’t surprised to see her impatience. She pushed for answers with a stern but caring expression.

To the far left was the only professor who didn’t seem eager to tear into me—Chancellor Amelia Duskleaf, Professor of Dragon Tongue Magic. She was as calm as ever, her slitted dragon eyes scanning the room. Even though we had our secrets, she couldn’t help me here today. She had already warned me about this just yesterday.

Other professors sat at the table, but they hadn’t spoken yet. Their presence was still loud, though, and I could feel the weight of every glance, every breath.

One of them, Professor Oran Valmyre, leaned forward, his thick arms resting on the table. “A stronger entity than the Minotaur Boss? You were supposed to face a dungeon boss, not some... higher creature. What exactly did you face, Romani?”

The Battle Strategy and Swordsmanship instructor was tall and broad-shouldered, the type of man who looked like he belonged on a battlefield rather than behind a desk. His jaw was clenched, and his gaze was hard as if he was mentally calculating every response I might give. He was pushing the hardest to interrogate me.

I exhaled slowly. “It came after we defeated the Minotaur. A demon in the form of a giant owl.”

The room fell into silence for a moment. Even Katheran raised an eyebrow, no longer looking quite as relaxed. Valenwood’s gaze sharpened.

“A demon? An owl?” Professor Katheran spoke, his tone serious and curious. “Go on.”

I nodded. “It wasn’t a normal demon. It seemed... wise. It had powers that far exceeded anything we should’ve encountered in a training dungeon. It attacked Sevrin out of the blue.”

Lysandra sighed. “Just how strong was it that it killed a 5th Ascension student?”

“The fight wasn’t even close,” I answered. “Sevrin attacked it, and the creature retaliated easily. It didn’t seem like it was targeting any of us specifically until it felt threatened. Once it was unleashed, it became uncontrollable.”

Professor Valmyre narrowed his eyes, his voice low and intimidating. “You brat, do you really expect us to believe that an owl demon just happened to show up and murder two of your classmates?”

I held his gaze, unflinching. “I know it sounds unbelievable. But the deaths speak for itself. Solara almost self-destructed trying to take down the owl.”

Amelia cleared her throat, stepping in a little. “Are you guys not aware of that monster in the academy’s main dungeon? It’s an owl, too. Perhaps this demonic owl is after the dungeon’s own,” she said, her voice smooth and calming. “Solara’s condition supports Iskandaar’s story unless you’re saying the girl almost killed herself for no reason?”

Valenwood looked pensive, his fingers drumming on the table. “What exactly led Sevrin to death?”

“He tried to fight the demon head-on, despite it being clear that its claws were too sharp for him,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “Sevrin was strong, but he underestimated the creature. His death was swift. Calista... was caught in the aftermath.”

Professor Valmyre’s face twisted in anger. “You let Sevrin die. That Solara girl should have made a move before things went wrong!”

I met his anger with cold detachment. “We couldn’t save him. Solara only did what she did because she wanted to save me. We had hoped Sevrin would win, but it seems the third years of Waybound aren’t as strong as I thought they were.”

The professors scowled. I had directly insulted their academy, of course, they would be mad. “And Calista?” Professor Lysandra tried to change the topic before it could derail. “What about her? Why did she die?”

I took a deep breath, knowing that this was the most delicate part of the interrogation. “She wasn’t involved in the fight directly. But... after Sevrin’s death, she panicked. The demon turned on her, and I wasn’t fast enough to stop it.”

Amelia frowned, looking at me with subtle concern though she remained silent.

Katheran leaned back, folding his arms. “So, two students are dead, a demon was unleashed, and you and Solara somehow survived? Lucky.”

“Yes,” I said, my voice firm.

Principal Valenwood remained silent for a long moment, his eyes scanning my face for any signs of deceit. Finally, he sighed, rubbing his temples. “This is a serious matter, Iskandaar. There will be an investigation into this... owl demon you speak of.”

“Of course,” I replied, bowing my head slightly.

The tension in the room didn’t ease. It felt like a heavy fog that refused to lift. Valmyre’s eyes were still on me, sharp as a blade, while Lysandra looked at me softly as if she found it sad that her colleagues were interrogating a student who had lost his friends.

“You may leave now,” the Principal finally said, his tone light. I stood, bowing slightly to the professors, then turned and walked out of the room, the weight of their gazes pressing against my back.

I believe I’ve avoided suspicion this time.

‘Iskandaar,’ a voice rang in my head as I stepped out of the room. It was Amelia. ‘Meet me at the rooftop later.’

Amelia hid her fearful expression throughout the meeting while the other professors interrogated me. She feared that my mask would be busted at any moment.

Thankfully her fears didn’t come true.

Much of it I owed to Orion, for his group took the blunt force of the attention. Everyone was talking about them, and the professors also focused on them. While Solara, Calista, Sevrin and I had become a secondary topic. So hopefully this situation won’t be returned back to.

The name that loomed large over everything was the Imperial Prince, who had been wounded, and I hoped it’d stay like that.

****

After visiting my dorm and meeting Lilian briefly, I returned to the tall academy building again.

I climbed the stairs to the top of the academy and made my way to the rooftop. When I reached the top, pushing the door open, a divine view stretched endlessly before me: Waybound City, vast and sprawling, lights twinkling beneath the dark sky.

The rooftop towered over the entire city below, and often, the difference in size between their mortal body and this magical city could give people a sense of inferiority. However, some might be filled with greed to own it all instead.

I wasn’t sure which one I felt.

My gaze quickly shifted from the city below to the woman sitting at the edge of the rooftop. Amelia looked serene with her back to me, draconic wings folded neatly behind her. The soft glow of the city’s lanterns danced across her, outlining her in golden light.

I approached quietly, the sound of the wind whispering around us. As I got closer, she turned her head slightly, her dragon-like purple eyes locking onto mine.

“You survived this time,” Amelia said, her voice cutting through the silence as the wind swirled around us. “You lucked out.”

I stood there for a moment, letting the wind tug at my cape. “Luck had nothing to do with it,” I replied, hands in my pockets. “It was wit… and some useful subordinates to sacrifice.”

She didn’t react immediately, her eyes still fixed on the city beneath us. “I don’t think it was you who attacked the prince, was it?” Her tone was calm, but something in her voice told me she wasn’t entirely sure. “You and he were in different regions.”

“It wasn’t me,” I answered, stepping closer. “There’s a demon situation going on, a real demon, not something like me.”

Finally, she turned her head, her dragon-like eyes locking onto mine. The wind blew strands of her hair across her face, but she didn’t move to brush them away. “Are you sure it wasn’t you?” Her gaze was steady, but there was something hidden in it.

She really suspected me.

And given how she asked me about the prince’s situation instead of anything about Sevrin's death, I think she might wholeheartedly believe that Sevrin was killed by me. But she wasn’t sure if the other demon was me, too.

I matched her stare, my expression unreadable. “Yes, Amelia. I’m sure.”

She didn’t break eye contact, and I could feel her assessing me, weighing my words against her own doubts. Amelia was sharp—sharper than most of the professors at this academy—and I knew she didn’t take things at face value. A beat passed, and then she sighed, standing up from the ledge and brushing the dust from her clothes.

“Then do you know something about that demon?” Her tone was casual, but I caught the way her wings twitched slightly as if preparing to react to my next words.

“I know as much as you do,” I said, keeping my voice even. “If you’re asking whether I’m working with demons, the answer is no. I don’t know who that was or what they’re planning.”

She looked at me for another long moment, her gaze searching. I could almost feel her probing, trying to pierce through whatever facade she thought I was wearing. The problem was, I wasn’t wearing one. Not entirely, anyway.

But I wasn’t about to reveal my hand, either.

Amelia finally looked away, but I could tell she wasn’t fully convinced. “Iskandaar, I already told you—you need to tread carefully,” she said, her voice firm. “I may hold some power in this academy, but I’m not invincible in the city, let alone the Empire. The Empire has people who can see through your demonic energy easily. And now that the prince was involved in a demon incident, the Imperial Family will make moves. They’ll send people. I’ve already been summoned to meet the Emperor.”

“....”

“They will come, Iskandaar,” she continued, her tone growing urgent. “And when they do, I won’t be able to protect you if they suspect you. So please,” she paused, stepping closer, her hands clasping my cheeks. “be extremely careful.”

Her words lingered in the air, heavy with warning. I knew what she was saying, even if she didn’t outright accuse me. She already knew it was I who killed Sevrin and Calista. She wasn’t going to turn me in, but she wouldn’t risk herself to save me if things went wrong. That much was clear.

She stared at me for a moment longer, her gaze softening slightly. “I hope that day never comes,” she said quietly, her hands staying on my face for a moment longer before she stepped back.

Without another word, her wings unfurled, and she took off, the wind from her departure swirling around me as I watched her soar into the evening sky.

I stood at the edge of the rooftop, the city sprawling beneath me like an endless sea of possibilities and threats. Everything had felt so vast yet so close. The sun was setting, and families were turning on lights at their homes. Lights of Waybound flickered like distant stars, each representing a life, a purpose, and a future—all things I had to manipulate if I wanted to achieve my goal.

The cult, the empire, the demons… they were all pieces on the board now. The wind shifted slightly, and I sensed her presence before she spoke.

“You alright?” Lilian’s voice came from behind me, quiet but filled with concern. She stepped forward, her soft steps barely audible against the stone floor.

“....” I had told her about the meeting and told her not to worry about it, but it seemed she was nearby and ready all the time in case things went wrong. I didn’t turn to look at her, my eyes still locked on the city below. “The cult needs to exist, Lilian,” I said quietly. “It’s the only way forward. Without it, everything I’m planning would crumble.”

I wasn’t really telling that to her. I was telling that to myself.

Lilian came to stand beside me, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp as they followed my gaze to the city below. “I never asked you officially,” I continued, “but I hope you’ll stand by my side through all of this. As a Star of the Heavenly Demon God Cult.”

There was a brief silence, the wind carrying the distant sounds of the city up to us. Then, Lilian let out a soft laugh, shaking her head slightly. “Hey, I was hoping you’d consider me your first recruit,” she said, her voice light. “Since the day grandmother dropped me with you. It hurts me to hear you say that. No way that Solara girl is Number 1?”

I turned my head to look at her. Subtle red eyes stared at me, full of resolution. I smiled at her as a small chuckle escaped me. “Well, I suppose that’s on me. I can work around that since there is no paperwork. You’ll be Number 1.”

“Heh,” Lilian scoffed. She was different from the others. A constant presence at my side, loyal, unwavering. And I needed that. With everything coming at me, enemies from every side, and allies turning into neutral forces, I needed people who wouldn’t question my motives. People who didn’t ask for the bigger picture and just followed my words out of loyalty.

I looked ahead again. The city seemed to stretch on forever beneath us, and now that the dark was settling in the distance one of the Magic Towers started shining. I think it was the White Magic Tower. It’d work as a light source for the night.

It hadn’t even been a week in Waybound, and already my cover had almost been blown. People had died. Forces were moving in the shadows, and I knew I wasn’t the only one with a plan. “Not even a week and people have already died,” I muttered aloud, and she just hummed.

“We’re still alive,” she reassured me, making me scoff with a smile. We stood there for a few moments longer, the two of us gazing out at the sprawling city beneath us, its lights flickering like stars against the dark canvas of the night. In this world that I was supposed to save, I had to play carefully. I wasn’t the only one with stakes in this game.

The distant sounds of the city floated up to us, the hum of life continuing below. But up here, above it all, I realized something.

This world—the empire, the demons, even the gods themselves—were nothing but obstacles in my way. Be it for the world-saving quest or for me personally.

They were not on my side. I had to move as if this world was my enemy because it certainly would see me as one. My plans had already begun. The seeds of power were already sown. And when the time came, I would rise, not just as Iskandaar Romani, but as something greater. Something inevitable.

The Heavenly Demon.

I would bend this world to my will—its people, its rulers, its gods—all of them would kneel. But for now, I had to be careful. The cult was still in its infancy, and my power was far from its peak. There was work to be done, alliances to be made, enemies to crush.

I looked out over Waybound City, feeling the weight of its vastness but also the thrill of knowing that soon, it would all be within my grasp. It had to—to own this world and therefore save it. The empire would come for me eventually, and the demons might rise against me, but I welcomed it all.

I was entering a new chapter of my life. And soon, this world would tremble before the name Heavenly Demon. For that, I needed strength. Power. And I would have it, no matter the cost.

It was about time I started cultivating forbidden Demonic Arts.