For a while, the throne room returned to silence.
Then—
Footsteps echoed from the distant entrance.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
They were slow.
Unhurried.
Yet strangely consistent.
The Demon Knight immediately turned his attention toward the entrance.
The footsteps were light.
There was no heavy armor.
No deliberate attempt to announce the arrival of whoever was approaching.
It was almost as though the person walking toward them didn't care whether anyone noticed.
The Demon Knight's hand instinctively moved closer to his sword.
He didn't draw it because he knew only one individual could come here like this.
So there was no reason to.
Still, his instincts had warned him anyway.
Someone powerful was approaching.
The sound grew closer.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Then the enormous doors of the throne room opened.
A demon entered.
The Demon Knight's heart beat sped up even more.
The newcomer didn't look particularly monstrous.
In fact, compared to many demons, he looked almost human.
He stood at roughly six feet tall and possessed a lean yet powerfully built physique. His body wasn't excessively muscular, nor was he unnaturally large. There was simply something about the way he carried himself that made his strength difficult to measure.
Every movement was controlled.
Every step was precise.
There was no wasted motion.
It was as though an enormous amount of power had been compressed into a body that appeared deceptively ordinary.
His complexion was pale, almost flawless.
Long, jet-black hair fell loosely around his face and continued past his shoulders. Some strands rested over his forehead, partially covering his eyes, while others moved slightly whenever he walked.
But the most obvious proof of his demonic nature was impossible to overlook.
His horns.
Two large horns emerged from his forehead and curved backward along the sides of his head. They were dark crimson near their bases before gradually becoming black toward their tips.
Faint patterns covered their surface.
They resembled ancient runes.
Most of the time, they remained almost invisible.
But whenever the demon's power stirred, those markings would glow faintly.
His eyes were even more unsettling.
They possessed crimson irises surrounded by dark sclera, with narrow vertical pupils that resembled those of a predator.
There was something unnatural about his gaze.
He didn't need to glare.
He didn't need to threaten anyone.
His eyes alone were enough to make weaker beings instinctively feel that they were standing before something they should never provoke.
His ears were slightly pointed, and when his lips parted, sharp fangs could occasionally be seen.
Black markings extended across portions of his neck, shoulders, and arms.
They resembled ancient runes carved directly into his flesh.
Yet they weren't scars.
They were something else.
Something far older.
His hands were equally unusual.
His fingers ended in dark claw-like nails that were sharper and harder than ordinary steel. They weren't exaggerated enough to make him appear like a beast, but their presence was enough to remind anyone who saw them that the being standing before them was not human.
He looked almost human.
That was precisely what made him frightening.
Most demons didn't appear as humans.
Demons came in every shape and size.
Some possessed enormous bodies capable of crushing fortresses.
Some had multiple arms.
Some had wings, tentacles, claws, tails, scales, or entirely different physical structures.
There was no single appearance that could be called the appearance of a demon.
But this particular demon had a form that was close to that of a human.
And yet, anyone with enough strength to sense his presence would immediately understand the difference.
His existence itself seemed to carry weight.
A weaker demon would feel pressure simply by standing near him.
Some would instinctively lower their heads.
Others would struggle to breathe.
And those with especially weak wills might even feel their bodies trembling without understanding why.
He didn't look like a monster.
He looked like something far more dangerous.
A being powerful enough to decide whether he wanted to appear monstrous in the first place.
The Demon Knight stared at him.
For a moment, he forgot to breathe.
He knew that face.
Every high-ranking demon knew that face.
There were stories about him which every demon kid enjoyed.
Stories that had survived generations.
Stories that some demons considered exaggerated.
Others considered terrifyingly accurate.
His name alone could make demons tremble.
Azrakar.
The second strongest demon in existence.
The right hand of the Demon King, at least that's what demons thought.
And yet…
He served no one.
Not even the Demon King.
Azrakar continued walking.
He didn't look toward the Demon Knight.
He didn't bow.
He didn't kneel.
He didn't even slow his steps when he entered the throne room.
He simply walked toward the Demon King.
The Demon Knight's expression remained tense.
There were very few beings in the Demon Realm who could enter the Demon King's throne room but even they have to kneel.
Azrakar was an exception.
Perhaps he was the only one who could do so without anyone questioning it.
There was a reason for that.
A reason that only a few of the oldest demons still remembered.
Before the current Demon King came to power…
Azrakar had ruled the demons.
The thought alone was difficult to comprehend.
The Demon Knight had grown up hearing stories about the previous era.
Back then, Azrakar had stood at the top of the Demon Realm.
He had commanded armies.
He had fought countless battles.
He had crushed enemies that were considered impossible to defeat.
For a time, he had been the Demon King.
But then the current Demon King appeared.
And he challenged Azrakar.
No one knew exactly what had happened during that battle.
The oldest records had been lost, destroyed, or deliberately sealed away.
But one fact remained.
The current Demon King defeated Azrakar.
And yet, instead of killing him, the Demon King had granted him a single wish.
Azrakar's wish had been simple.
He wanted to serve no one.
Not another Demon.
Not a king.
Not a ruler.
No one.
He would help the demons whenever he wished.
He would fight whenever he wished.
He would disappear whenever he wished.
And no one would have the authority to command him.
The Demon King had agreed.
And he had kept his word.
That was why Azrakar could stand in the throne room without kneeling.
It wasn't because he had forgotten his manners.
It wasn't because he wanted to insult the Demon King.
It was simply because he wasn't a subordinate.
He had no obligation to kneel.
And everyone in the Demon Realm knew it.
Azrakar finally stopped several meters away from the throne.
The Demon King looked at him.
Then he smiled.
"Azrakar."
Azrakar's expression remained calm.
The Demon King leaned slightly forward.
"What news have you brought?"
Azrakar looked toward him.
"Humans, as always, started fighting among themselves once we retreated."
The Demon King listened.
Azrakar continued.
"Their kingdoms have begun turning their attention toward one another again. Their armies are moving. Their nobles are already fighting over territory and influence."
A faint smile appeared on Azrakar's face.
"Nothing has changed."
The Demon Knight listened quietly.
Azrakar's tone wasn't mocking.
If anything, it sounded almost bored.
The Demon King gave a small chuckle.
"Humans."
Azrakar continued.
"If we attack now, they will probably respond."
He paused.
"But if we wait until they become deeply involved in their own conflicts, their response will be slower."
The Demon King nodded.
"That is what I expected."
Azrakar looked toward the enormous windows.
"The eastern side would be the best starting point."
The Demon King raised an eyebrow.
"Why?"
"The eastern kingdoms have been weakened by internal conflict much more according to spies."
Azrakar's answer came immediately.
"They have lost soldiers, resources, and political stability. Their nobles are more concerned with each other than with what is happening beyond their borders. They probably think we won't attack for a few years"
He paused.
"We should begin there."
The Demon King didn't interrupt.
"Once the eastern territories fall, we can gradually spread."
Azrakar's eyes narrowed slightly.
"Slowly."
The Demon Knight smiled knowing Azrakar was thinking the same he thought about it.
Of course to others it may seem strange.
If they possessed enough strength to attack, why not strike as hard as possible?
Why give the humans time to react?
Azrakar continued.
"If we advance too quickly, the human kingdoms will realize the scale of the threat and temporarily stop fighting one another."
His expression became slightly colder.
"That would be inconvenient."
The Demon King nodded.
"Indeed."
Azrakar turned his attention back to him.
"We shouldn't give them a reason to unite."
The Demon King nodded.
"That is why the eastern side will be useful."
"Yes."
Azrakar's answer was short.
The Demon Knight watched the two of them.
There was something strange about their interaction.
It didn't feel like a king speaking to his subordinate.
It felt like two extremely powerful individuals discussing a problem.
The Demon King asked for Azrakar's opinion.
Azrakar gave it.
The Demon King considered it.
Neither of them attempted to dominate the conversation.
Neither seemed concerned about hierarchy.
The Demon Knight couldn't help but feel that this was an unusual relationship.
Of course, there were many rumors about the two.
Some demons believed Azrakar remained secretly loyal to the Demon King.
Others believed he simply tolerated the current Demon King because he had given his word.
There were even demons who believed that Azrakar could one day challenge the Demon King again.
The Demon Knight didn't know which rumor was true.
He wasn't foolish enough to ask.
Azrakar suddenly looked toward the Demon Knight.
The Demon Knight immediately straightened.
Their eyes met.
For an instant, the Demon Knight felt as though something cold had passed through his body.
Azrakar's eyes weren't filled with hostility.
That was the frightening part.
There was no anger.
No bloodlust.
No desire to intimidate.
He simply looked at him.
Yet the Demon Knight's instincts screamed at him.
Danger.
Absolute danger.
Azrakar was powerful.
Not merely powerful by ordinary standards.
He was one of those beings who stood so far above the majority of demons that trying to measure his strength against theirs was meaningless.
The Demon Knight quickly lowered his gaze.
Azrakar spoke.
"Leave."
The Demon Knight hesitated for less than a second.
"Yes."
He stood and bowed.
Unlike Azrakar, he had no problem kneeling before the Demon King.
He turned around and began walking toward the entrance.
He didn't look back.
He didn't need to.
He could feel the atmosphere behind him.
The Demon King remained seated on his throne.
Azrakar remained standing.
Two beings who had once fought each other stood together in the same throne room.
And somehow, the Demon Realm continued to exist.
The Demon Knight exited the throne room.
The enormous doors closed behind him.
Silence returned.
Inside the throne room, the Demon King looked toward the windows.
Outside, the dark clouds continued moving across the sky.
The Demon Realm was quiet.
Too quiet.
The Demon King placed his hand against his chest.
A faint expression of pain crossed his face.
His wounds were indeed almost healed.
But not completely.
And the seal…
The seal was beginning to weaken.
He could feel it.
The Demon King looked down at his hand.
"So it won't be long now."
Azrakar didn't answer immediately.
He stood several meters away, looking toward the same window.
After a while, he spoke.
"No."
The Demon King glanced at him.
Azrakar's crimson eyes reflected the faint light coming through the window.
"It won't."
The Demon King smiled.
"Are you looking forward to it?"
Azrakar's expression didn't change.
"No."
The Demon King laughed quietly.
"I suppose that is exactly what I should have expected from you."
Azrakar didn't respond.
He had never been particularly interested in war for the sake of war.
He helped demons because he chose to.
He fought because he chose to.
He offered advice because he chose to.
Nothing more.
He had once ruled the entire Demon Realm.
He had once commanded armies and possessed countless followers.
Then he lost.
The current Demon King defeated him.
And instead of demanding his submission, he gave him a choice.
Azrakar had chosen freedom.
Years had passed since then.
And the Demon King had never once broken that promise.
That was why Azrakar remained.
Not as a subordinate.
Not as a servant.
Not as a loyal subject.
He remained because he had decided that helping the demons was something he wanted to do.
That distinction mattered.
The Demon King understood it.
Perhaps better than anyone.
"Humans will notice eventually," the Demon King said.
Azrakar looked toward him.
"They always do."
"But by then…"
The Demon King smiled.
"It will be too late."
Azrakar said nothing.
Outside the palace, the wind began to howl.
Far beyond the Demon Realm, the human kingdoms continued living their ordinary lives.
Nobles attended banquets.
Merchants traveled between cities.
Adventurers accepted quests.
Students returned to their academies.
Kings argued over borders.
And somewhere among all of them, people were preparing for celebrations and events without realizing that another war was approaching.
The demons had retreated.
They had been quiet.
They had spent time training.
They had watched.
They had waited.
And now their ruler was almost healed.
The seal was beginning to weaken.
The armies were ready.
The Demon Generals had sharpened their weapons and trained their soldiers.
And the eastern kingdoms were already weakened by their own conflicts.
Everything was slowly falling into place.
The Demon King closed his eyes.
Soon.
Very soon.
The demons would march again.
And this time, they would not simply attack.
They would begin a war.
A war that would eventually force the human kingdoms to make a choice.
Fight each other…
Or fight the demons.
The Demon King opened his eyes again.
There was a faint smile on his face.
Azrakar looked at him for a moment before turning away.
He had no intention of kneeling.
He never had.
He simply walked toward the exit of the throne room.
The Demon King didn't stop him.
The doors opened.
Azrakar stepped through.
Then the doors closed behind him.
The Demon Realm remained silent.
But beneath that silence, something had begun to move.
Something ancient.
Something powerful.
Something that had been waiting for a very long time.
The next war.