Damon smiled faintly as he pocketed the orb he had taken from the elven assassins, his fingers brushing over its surface before letting it disappear into his cloak.
"Ah... that should keep them thinking about for a while."
His gaze drifted forward, distant, satisfied.
Kadelas would be seething right now. After all this ti, things finally felt balanced. They had sent assassins after him once, quiet and deniable.
Now he had answered.
Not with shadows, but with sothing far louder.
An attempt on his life... repaid with an attempt on both the king and his entire domain.
Damon exhaled slowly.
"I should be worried," he muttered under his breath. "I just made an enemy of a great dragon."
He paused, then shook his head lightly.
"Nah... not a big deal."
A faint smirk tugged at his lips.
"I’ve already made enemies of gods and ancient monsters. What’s one more oversized lizard?"
It was the truth.
The goddess. Ashcroft. the outsiders.
Now a dragon.
At this point, it barely registered.
His eyes shifted to the marching force behind him. Trolls and goblins moved in formation, their steps steady, their discipline improving by the day. What had once been scattered monsters now looked like sothing closer to an army.
The sight pleased him.
Power felt... natural.
He was starting to understand it. Starting to embody it.
Like a demon lord.
Movent broke his thoughts.
A goblin sprinted toward him, dropping to one knee the mont he arrived, head lowered in respect.
"My lord, our scouts have found trouble ahead."
Damon’s gaze settled on him, calm and attentive.
This one wasn’t speaking in goblin tongue.
It was fluent.
Clean.
’Their intelligence really did increase,’ Damon noted silently, observing the way the goblin carried himself, the clarity in his speech.
"What is it?" Damon asked.
"My lord, a powerful horde of balors is moving along the road ahead. I advise we change course and avoid confrontation."
Damon studied him for a mont, the faintest smile forming on his lips.
Avoid?
Why would he avoid them?
Those balors weren’t obstacles.
They were resources.
"We advance," Damon said simply.
The goblin didn’t hesitate. He bowed his head and imdiately turned, running back to relay the command.
Behind him, Renata stepped closer, her arms slipping around him as she leaned into his back. Her voice dropped into a soft whisper near his ear.
"You’re really becoming a demon lord," she murmured. "That’s... kind of hot."
Damon glanced sideways at her arms wrapped around him, his expression remaining composed.
"Senior... can you not?" he said lazily. "n and won shouldn’t be this close."
His tone lacked any real force.
"I don’t mind," Renata replied, her voice teasing as she leaned in slightly more.
Then her tone shifted, quieter, more serious.
"Aren’t you drawing too much attention to yourself? We’re supposed to stay low. We ca here for information."
Damon’s eyes narrowed slightly.
She wasn’t wrong.
But—
"The fastest way to gather information," he said calmly, "is through manpower."
He glanced ahead, his voice steady.
"That was the original objective. Now... I want sothing else."
"Ashcroft’s fragnts."
Renata’s grip tightened slightly as she listened.
"So you’re joining the event in Trace," she said.
"Yes."
"And Seras?"
Damon didn’t hesitate.
"She’ll be fine. We give her what she needs, then regroup later."
His gaze hardened slightly.
"When the ti cos... we take the Ouroboros seal."
Renata smiled against him, her tone turning light again, though there was a sharp edge beneath it.
"I see... so we deal with the balors, build strength, then move toward Trace."
She tilted her head slightly.
"We’ll be seeing more people soon. More conflict."
A pause.
"You planning to keep your head down?"
Damon let out a quiet breath, then stepped forward, breaking from her hold as he moved toward the front of the marching force.
"No," he said plainly.
His voice carried just enough weight for the ladies nearby to hear.
"I’m knocking heads."
Sure enough, after a few more minutes of walking, they ca across them.
A small group of balors drifted through the air at low altitude, their massive forms cutting through the sky like burning teors held in place. Each one stood nearly ten ters tall, their bodies shaped from what looked like molten rock and blackened charcoal. Cracks of glowing heat ran across their fras, pulsing like veins, while their eyes burned with a steady, violent fla.
In their hands, they carried whips long, writhing strands of fire that coiled and snapped with a life of their own.
Damon slowed his steps, his gaze lifting calmly as he took them in.
’Balors...’
There were many creatures like this on the demon continent. Seeing them up close made one thing painfully clear.
This place was not ruled by peace.
It was ruled by power.
’So this is what the demon lords have to manage,’ he thought, watching the way the creatures hovered, their presence alone distorting the air with heat. ’No wonder the goddess races never managed to take this land.’
Even a small group like this could destroy cities.
Balors were rarely below the fourth class advancent.
These ones... all fourth class.
One of them, however, stood out.
Larger.
Heavier.
The heat around it was denser, more oppressive.
Fifth class.
Damon’s eyes lingered on it for a mont before shifting away.
If he were anyone else, even soone in the fifth class, they would have already chosen to retreat.
Balors weren’t just brutes.
They wielded magic.
And they enjoyed using it.
The creatures shifted midair, their attention locking onto his group. One by one, they turned, their flaming gazes settling on Damon and the marching force behind him.
Then they began to move.
The beat of their wings ca slow and heavy.
Flap.
Flap.
Each motion pushed waves of heat outward, the temperature rising with every second as they descended slightly, closing the distance.
The goblins tensed.
The trolls shifted their grips on their weapons.
Even the air felt tighter.
Damon didn’t move.
’Will they attack on sight... or—’
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