Chapter 29

“L-Lord Hiberio!”

A flustered voice echoed through the long corridor. Hiberio—the son of Belephor, the current Demon King and lord of ten thousand demonkin—halted his hurried steps and turned to glare at the demon who had called out to him. This was already the third time.

“What is it, Baan?”

His voice was chilling, accompanied by a sinister aura. Dark demonic energy surged visibly around him, reflecting his current state of mind. If a Sword Master had been present, they would not have been able to breathe properly. The instant they felt that demonic energy, their legs would have buckled, and they would have collapsed on the spot.

‘He’s grown even stronger.’

Though Baan had already endured Hiberio’s dreadful aura twice before, he still could not adapt. Proof of that was the way Baan—ranked 327th among the demonkin—unconsciously stepped back a pace.

“Please, calm yourself and think carefully.”

“What thoughts do you mean?”

Hiberio shot the question back at him. To Hiberio, Baan was no ordinary subordinate. Since childhood, Baan had raised him in Belephor’s stead. Because of that, Hiberio had always spoken politely to him, despite Baan’s lower rank. But now, his tone had shifted downward. It was proof enough that he was losing control of his emotions.

“There is nothing to gain from visiting the Human Realm. It’s full of nothing but weak humans. What could you possibly want to do there?”

At present, only two beings knew of Hiberio’s desire to go to the Human Realm: the Demon King and his loyal retainer, Baan. And Baan had been tasked with preventing Hiberio from reaching his father’s chamber. It was a mission Belephor himself had entrusted to him. Of course, both the king and his retainer knew it was nearly impossible. Still, they had to try, if only to prevent another holy war between gods and demons.

“What do I want to do? I just want to see humans with my own eyes, and experience the Human Realm for myself.”

When Baan heard such a simple reason, he almost doubted his ears. He had expected something grander. Perhaps a plan to massacre humans, or to conquer them. But to say he simply wanted to experience it? That left Baan both bewildered and dumbfounded. In fact, if Hiberio had declared he wanted conquest, it might have been easier to persuade him otherwise. But for something so simple as “experience”…

Regardless of the reason, even if a single demonkin crossed into the Human Realm, Heaven would seize upon it as a perfect excuse for war.

And once war broke out, it was certain that within just a few years the Demon Realm would be forced to its knees. The gap in strength between Heaven and the Demon Realm was simply too wide. To put it plainly: among the demonkin, a warrior ranked around 100th could be considered elite. Yet in Heaven, there were over a hundred such beings. And for the power level of a 50th-ranked demonkin, Heaven had more than sixty.

In such a war, the Demon Realm would not just take heavy losses—they might be devastated beyond recovery. They would not be entirely annihilated, but it was certain that recovering from such damage would take thousands of years.

For the Demon Realm to truly rise in strength, another four hundred years were still needed. Once the Red Moon appeared—a celestial event that rose once every thousand years—the aura of darkness would surge across the land. At that time, all demonkin could absorb more demonic energy into themselves, and the fiends would grow even stronger. But the Red Moon lasted only ten days before disappearing.

As things stood, any demonkin ranked up to 300th could open a dimensional gate to the Human Realm if they wished. Yet everyone avoided doing so, wary of triggering a holy war. But Hiberio, son of the Demon King, seemed not to care. At least, that was how it looked in Baan’s eyes.

Though Hiberio was already over a thousand years old, Baan still saw him as a child. After all, Baan himself had already lived more than two thousand years.

“No matter if you’re ranked 197th, Lord Hiberio, you still can’t stand against an Ancient-class Dragon. What will you do if you happen to meet one?”

Baan was desperate to stop him from going to the Human Realm, and so he brought up dragons. To face an Ancient-class Dragon, one needed to be at least rank 50 among the demonkin.

“I’ve heard dragons don’t fight unless provoked first. Am I wrong?”

Everything Hiberio said was true. But Baan was not the kind to give up here. He still had one last resort left. Whether it would work or not, however, was uncertain. That was why he had avoided using it until now. But at this point, he had no choice.

“If you go to the Human Realm, Lord Hiberio, it will certainly mean war with the celestials. Please, think of the Demon Realm.”

‘I know that much. And yet… whenever I think of the Human Realm, I can’t control my emotions. I don’t even know why. To think that I, the one who will become Demon King, can’t restrain myself just because of the Human Realm…’

Normally, he was calm, thoughtful, and rapidly growing in strength. He was every bit the rightful heir to the Demon King. Yet whenever he thought of the Human Realm, Hiberio lost that control, consumed by the need to go there.

He knew exactly when it had started—when a human had once come here.

It had amazed him that a human could live in the Demon Realm at all, and more so that the man had survived nearly a hundred years without dying. He had thought the human would never last a single year. Yet ten years passed, then forty, then seventy. And when the human finally returned to the Human Realm almost a century later, Hiberio’s curiosity had grown unshakable.

So yes, his interest in the Human Realm was born of that—but to be precise, it was really curiosity about that human who had once lived here. If he could cross into the Human Realm, Hiberio wanted to meet that human again.

He closed his violet eyes, eerie yet mesmerizing in their glow, hiding them from sight. Furrowing his brow, he sank into thought.

‘If I go, the Demon Realm will go to war with Heaven. And the result would be our defeat. The outcome is already clear. All I have to do is not cross into the Human Realm. But still…’

When he opened his eyes again, he looked straight at Baan, who was staring back with a gaze full of worry. There was no hesitation in Hiberio’s eyes anymore. The conflict had vanished; his decision was complete.

“I…”

He began, then clamped his mouth shut, holding the silence. His mind was firm now. All that remained was to speak and end Baan’s attempts to block him.

Baan, hearing that single word—“I”—already felt Hiberio’s unshakable will. He knew he could no longer stop him. He even guessed what words were about to follow. And those words would be the very ones Hiberio hated to use the most: invoking the authority of his blood.

The silence stretched long. Finally, Hiberio opened his mouth again and spoke the words he loathed above all.

“As the son of Belephor, current lord of ten thousand demonkin, and the one who will be the next Demon King—I, Hiberio, command it.”

Just as Baan had feared, the words came. His voice was low, stripped of all emotion, yet filled with overwhelming authority. That made it all the more terrifying.

Baan’s knees buckled. He dropped to the ground and lowered his head. If five thousand demonkin had been gathered there, they all would have done the same. It was loyalty to the Demon King and his heir, a custom as old as the beginning itself—absolute and unchangeable.

‘So this is how it ends. Demon King Belephor, lord of ten thousand demonkin… forgive me. This is the limit of what I could do.’

On his knees, his head bowed low, Baan felt his chest tear with pain at what was to come. He and Belephor had known from the start that they could not stop Hiberio from wanting the Human Realm. Still, he had tried, if only for the faintest chance. But the result had not changed.

Perhaps, Baan thought bitterly, even if Hiberio went, a holy war might not actually break out. That possibility only made his heart ache all the more.

But now, there was no choice. He had to let him go. Or perhaps it was not a choice at all, but something fated—or inevitability disguised as fate.

“Return.”

The emotionless command, flat and without inflection, echoed through the wide corridor. Baan gave a short reply, then rose to his feet. Bowing his head, he stepped back carefully, retreating in measured steps. An order spoken in the Demon King’s name was absolute. No matter what it commanded, it could not be defied.

The reason Baan did not simply vanish instantly was because, days earlier, the Demon King had cast a barrier over the entirety of the castle. The enchantment sealed away all abilities, preventing anyone from using them. It had been put in place solely for one reason: to restrain Hiberio, who was bound to come storming in sooner or later.

But the barrier would soon be lifted—at the very moment when the Demon King and his son finally stood face-to-face.

“I obey your command.”

Step. Step.

The steady sound of Baan’s retreating footsteps filled the corridor, heavy within the silence. Hiberio watched him withdraw, then turned on his heel and strode forward without hesitation. Every step carried the weight of his resolve. At the end of the hallway, a massive set of doors loomed. It was the destination he sought—where the Demon King himself waited.

Clang.

The colossal doors swung open to either side, revealing the chamber beyond. Despite the enormity of the doors, the room inside was smaller than expected, though its ceiling rose nearly ten meters high. Intricate shapes covered it in countless patterns, though their meaning was impossible to discern.

On the far wall, a tall window stretched all the way up to the ceiling. In front of it stood a chair, flanked by a long desk extending left and right. No torches or lamps illuminated the chamber, and yet the entire space glowed faintly with a dim, violet light.

Hiberio ignored the strange surroundings. His eyes locked solely on the figure seated in the chair—the Demon King.

Perhaps it was the oppressive atmosphere, but when Hiberio opened his mouth, his low voice carried a chilling weight, even though it remained as flat and emotionless as before.

“Father.”

For the first time.

Since the day he was born, it was the first time the word had ever left his lips.

And he knew—it would also be the last.