Chapter 79
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 79
When she first came to Judeca, holding the hand of the previous Demon King—her father—other Demon Kings had rushed from every corner to welcome him the moment they stepped inside.
Naturally, their attention had turned to Melju, who stood by his side. She had been doted on by everyone, and she had grown up believing it was only natural.
‘I’ve been cast aside.’
But she didn't have the luxury of wallowing in self-pity.
Judeca spanned two nights. While that might seem like plenty of time, there were far too many things to consider.
If the first night was for hedonistic displays of power, the second was for exchanging information.
Considering the conference would begin the following day, now was the opportune moment for Melju to gather intelligence and seek allies.
Two banquets, tonight and tomorrow.
She had to interact with as many Demon Kings as possible, build trust, and secure their aid.
After composing herself, Melju scanned her surroundings. She didn't dare try to wedge herself into the circles surrounding high-ranking Demon Kings. She spotted several who had been close with her father, but now that she was alone, she lacked the confidence to approach them.
It occurred to her then—perhaps they hadn't doted on Melju the individual, but on Melju, the ‘daughter of a powerful Demon King.’
‘Then, who should I…?’
As she wandered, lost in thought, a passing demon shouldered her aside.
Melju let out a soft groan. The alcohol in her glass sloshed over the rim, spilling onto her dress.
“What do you think you’re—!”
Melju glared at the demon with murderous intent.
It wasn't a Demon King. It was clearly a subordinate brought along as an escort.
No matter how minor the friction, for a mere demon to touch a Demon King was a grave offense—one that could lead to the demon’s execution or even an all-out war between Demon King Castles.
“…Ah.”
The words died in her throat.
The demon who had bumped into her didn't even spare her a glance, simply walking away as if she didn't exist. She heard the demon sneer as he departed.
Soon after, whispers reached her from all directions. Every word was painfully clear.
They were ridiculing her for her powerlessness.
It was blatant contempt.
She knew.
The Demon Kings knew Melju had no power.
And Melju knew that they looked down on her.
Rumors traveled fast, especially regarding events near Riaze. It had been two months since her Demon King Castle on the outskirts of Riaze had fallen; there was no way they didn't know.
…What a bunch of cowards.
No, perhaps this was the attitude that best suited a Demon King.
I will endure, no matter what. I will grit my teeth, survive, and build a magnificent army.
Melju bit her lip hard as she wiped the alcohol from her dress.
The red stain remained vivid beneath the moisture, only deepening her misery. A small bead of blood formed where her fang pierced her lip.
Melju approached a servant for a fresh glass. Since the servants pouring the drinks were mindless, controlled entities, they showed no reaction to her state.
They were the only ones in Judeca who did not discriminate against her.
But the moment she took the glass, her vision shook again.
Someone grabbed her shoulder and pressed down.
The glass wobbled. Alcohol splashed. It narrowly missed her clothes this time, but it was enough to snap the last thread of Melju’s patience.
Regardless of her earlier resolve, she couldn't suppress the surge of emotion. Melju whipped her head around, feeling that if she endured this and backed down, her authority as a Demon King would truly plummet into the abyss.
As she turned, eyes wide with fury—
“Melju!!”
A bright, cheerful voice rang out from right behind her.
It wasn't an attempt to humiliate her. On the contrary, the Demon King who had placed her hands on Melju’s shoulders was looking at her with a smile full of overwhelming emotion.
“…Marmolia?”
Marmolia de Rubia Purpidia.
The 19th descendant of Asmodeus and, unlike Melju, a Demon King of direct lineage.
And a member of the ‘same generation’ who had grown up bickering with her.
“It is you, Melju, right? When I first saw you, I couldn't believe it. You’re actually alive! Oh, what a relief!”
Marmolia hugged Melju without warning. Her hair, which cascaded past her hips, fluttered. While her hair was a shade of purple like Melju’s, the red hue in it was much deeper—a mark of her direct lineage.
“Uh, y-yeah,” Melju replied, her voice dazed.
This was completely unexpected.
She had assumed Marmolia would be attending Judeca, but for her to be the first to strike up a conversation like this left Melju more bewildered than anything.
They certainly hadn't been the kind of friends who welcomed each other with open arms.
The ‘whose-child-is-superior’ game was a common test of nerves among Demon Kings, and those of the ‘same generation’ were always subject to comparison.
Melju and Marmolia’s relationship had been closer to a rivalry than a friendship.
Completely ignoring Melju’s awkward expression, Marmolia rubbed her cheek against hers in a tight embrace.
—Seeing this frivolous and impulsive behavior, it was definitely the Marmolia she knew.
As Marmolia’s voluptuous chest pressed against her, Melju, who had been dejected just a moment ago, snapped at her.
“Let—let go! I’m going to suffocate. For someone who calls herself a Demon King, you’re still as thoughtless as ever. Do you have any idea how rude it is to suddenly put your hands on someone’s shoulders?!”
“Hm? Since when was there any etiquette between us?”
“R-Regardless!”
“Seeing you still get angry over such trivial things, I suppose you’ve been doing well?”
“And you’re still as top-heavy as you are empty-headed.”
When Marmolia stroked her hair, Melju cried out, “You’re messing it up!” and Marmolia chuckled.
Though they were monsters of the same generation and similar age, the difference in their height was significant. It wasn't that Melju’s growth was slow, but that Marmolia’s development was exceptionally fast; she was taller even than Melju when the latter used magic to appear as an adult.
Having finally escaped Marmolia’s grasp, Melju puffed out her cheeks and straightened her disheveled hair.
As Marmolia watched her, her pupils sharpened.
“…Were you about to do something?”
“H-Huh?”
Marmolia asked nonchalantly. Melju stammered, slightly flustered.
“No, just… it’s been a while, so I had things I wanted to talk about.”
“I see… so you weren’t doing anything in particular.”
It was a rambling response. Nodding, Marmolia’s gaze shifted with a serious expression.
On the surface, it looked like every Demon King was enjoying the banquet, but Marmolia, who had an exceptional talent for sensing the gazes of others, noticed something.
—Several Demon Kings and their escorts were glancing this way.
Naturally, they weren't kind looks.
“Shall we move somewhere else for a moment?”
Picking up a new glass, Marmolia offered a beautiful smile.
Since Melju had been feeling uncomfortable where she was, she nodded without much hesitation.
The two made their way toward the surface.
The abandoned human monastery was riddled with secretive spaces, its original purpose long forgotten. There were even stairs leading further down, just outside the entrance to the underground banquet hall.
Curiosity welled up, but Marmolia’s pace was fast, so Melju silently followed her toward the second floor of the building.
“I feel this every time, but Judeca is just too disorganized. Just because we’re all Demon Kings doesn't mean we’re on the same side, yet people let information slip so easily.”
Marmolia only stopped once they reached an open balcony on the second floor.
Holding her glass, she leaned against the railing. It creaked, rusted and looking as if it might collapse at any moment.
“I heard the news.”
Marmolia spoke before Melju could.
“I guess you couldn't protect it in the end.”
“…So everyone knew.”
“Our castle sent monsters to investigate yours. That region has already become human territory.”
“So it really did…”
“…Everyone was wiped out, right?”
At the cautiously phrased question, Melju nodded silently. Beneath her stoic expression lay an emotion closer to self-reproach than sadness.
“I see.”
The reply was short.
“To be honest, I wanted to see Barom and Drasen one last time.”
The names of her castle executives, who had loyally served from her father’s time until her own, made Melju tremble slightly.
“But you know, I thought you were dead at first.”
There had been a two-month gap.
Most Demon Kings had assumed the same.
That Melju de Limp Agrea had met her end at the hands of humans.
“I’m glad you’re alive.”
Though the moon was a sliver, it cast an unusually bright light.
“Where have you been for the past two months?”
“I-I was just wandering here and there.”
Even if she told her she had been in the Primordial Core, Marmolia wouldn't believe her. And regardless of belief, there was no reason to reveal that, so Melju glossed over it as calmly as possible.
After a brief silence, Marmolia repeated, “I see,” and took a sip from her glass. Melju raised her glass as well, staring at her own wavering reflection in the liquid.
Only after seeing that pathetic image did Melju speak first.
“To be honest, I thought you would hate me, just like the other Demon Kings.”
“That was when we were both being raised under our fathers’ protection. We each had to be better than the other. But now, you’re a Demon King who stands on her own. There’s no need for us to keep playing at childhood rivalries pushed on us by our parents.”
Marmolia turned around. Her dress was highly revealing, with the entire back cut away.
Her alluring, pale skin glowed even whiter under the moonlight.
“You came here for help, didn't you?” Marmolia asked the pensive Melju.
“The reason you came to Judeca.”
“…”
As expected.
She had seen through everything.
It was a truth she would have to confess eventually anyway. Seeing no reason to deny it, Melju nodded.
As if to dispel the awkwardness settling over the night air, Marmolia replied immediately.
“I can help you.”
With those words, Marmolia pushed herself off the railing. She began walking slowly toward the stairs leading back to the first floor, then turned her head slightly toward Melju, who was still standing there, dazed.
Red horns and eyes. Silver fangs revealed between seductive lips. She showed all the marks of a Demon King without reservation. As if speaking not as a friend but as one Demon King to another, she spoke again.
“If you are willing to put in the effort, I can help you.”
There was no reason to let this go.
“…You’ve become more mature than I have.”
An opportunity had been given, and she had to take it. As long as there was someone who believed in her, someone who would help her even when everyone else looked down on her, she had to crawl up from the bottom and become a magnificent Demon King.
“Will you truly help me?”
Marmolia turned back and continued walking. Melju followed her down that path of salvation.
*
She believed it was a path of salvation.
…Wait?
Only as the crisis unfolded did Melju’s mind begin to race. Her brain, unable to find a solution for what was about to happen, kept dragging up memories of the past.
She remembered. It came back to her.
Marmolia de Rubia Purpidia.
They weren't friends bound by a love-hate relationship. That wasn't just a romanticized notion; the memory had been completely distorted by the passage of time.
—The same generation.
—Both descendants of Asmodeus.
—The only difference was that Marmolia was of direct lineage. However, Melju’s talent for magic was superior. It was an anomaly, and from the perspective of the direct line, it was unacceptable.
She couldn't recall the specifics of their upbringing, but she could guess.
Marmolia was intensely jealous.
Over the years, that jealousy had layered upon itself, turning into hatred.
Yes. Marmolia hated her. She had every reason to.
There was no way she would treat her well.
“…Ah.”
In the space she had followed Marmolia into, several Demon Kings were waiting. Countless gazes glared at Melju from the darkness. These weren't the fleeting glances from the banquet hall. They were staring at her with clear, hostile intent.
Marmolia took only a few steps into the room before dropping to her knees. Overwhelmed by the atmosphere, Melju knelt as well.
Bowing her head before the presence in front of her, Melju realized the truth.
In this Judeca, there was not a single Demon King who supported a coward who had abandoned her castle to survive alone.
“I have brought her before you.”
Melju stole a glance upward. A wide smile was plastered on Marmolia’s face. Her joy was accompanied by a madness born of selfish desire. With eyes intoxicated by victory, she looked down at Melju.
It was the gaze a Demon King gives a lowly human.
That was Marmolia’s attitude toward her.
Something inside her heart sank.
Feeling as though she might stop breathing, Melju raised her head just a tiny bit more.
The being she was bowing to—of course she knew him. Her instincts recognized him before her reason did. There was only one Demon King who exuded such a dense, dark energy.
The living history of evil itself.
The 4th descendant of Satan, and of direct lineage.
“Lord Yubar.”
The one who stood above all other Demon Kings looked down at Melju from his high seat. This room had already become her tribunal.
“Melju de Limp Agrea.”
—Ah. Ahhh.
Her mind fractured. She could guess the words that Yubar, the Demon King of Supreme Evil, would say next—and she knew those words would mean her expulsion from the ranks of the Demon Kings.
Unable to offer any response, Melju remained frozen.
“How pathetic,” Yubar finally pronounced.