Changes in the Demon Realm - Fate Twisted. Find the Reason.
The seven great dukes who ruled over the vast expanse of the demon realm, dividing it among themselves, received a command from their sovereign.
And that, at a time when the conquest of the middle realm—something even their predecessors had failed to achieve—was right before their eyes.
In response, the seven great dukes convened a meeting.
Krrrarrr.
“A twist in fate, you say... No wonder the dimensional barriers felt weaker. Isn't this good for us?”
The moment the massive beast monster with seven horns made that claim, mocking mental waves flew in from all directions.
Glutterni gnashed his teeth at the sneers from the higher legion commanders, palpable even if unseen.
“It could happen.”
His words, carried across vast distances via mental waves alone, were polite on the surface, but his inner thoughts raged.
'These rotten bastards...'
Krrrarrr.
The moment the Beast King Glutterni seethed in silence, his nest in the Black Forest and the noisy surroundings teeming with powerful beasts fell utterly quiet in an instant.
The overwhelming killing intent made every beast around bow their heads and tremble; weaker ones spat black blood and collapsed.
A presence that enveloped over 10 kilometers in a heartbeat—even though it wasn't a true attack laced with murderous intent.
But those conversing with him mentally had no way of knowing.
At those mocking provocations, the Beast King finally roared.
“Kyaaaaaaa!”
Thud.
'Weaklings who inherit their blood alone dare mock this Beast King? How dare they!? Scum not even worth a single meal!!!!'
Rumble rumble rumblerrrr.
The moment Glutterni slammed his forepaw down, the ground shook like an earthquake.
Just one deep step, and his monstrous strength upheaved everything around.
Rumble rumble rumblerrrr.
Crack craaaack.
Kiruruk! Kyarak. Krraa!
The endless Black Forest split open, and from afar, swarms of weak beasts shrieked in terror at some inexplicable disaster, fleeing in chaos—but it was all noise to him.
Huuuuuuh.
Glutterni exhaled lava-like breath, forcibly suppressing his rage once more.
And then.
“This ignorant great duke will pretend not to know, so you higher-ups handle it.”
He forced calm into his words.
Mental waves flew in from all sides again.
Someone who had remained silent until now interjected with a mental wave that felt almost languid.
In that instant, Glutterni flinched involuntarily and ground his teeth.
It had been centuries since he'd heard that voice, but he could never forget its owner.
“Sloth...”
He tried to threaten, but the words wouldn't come.
And the other legion commanders chattering via mental waves fell silent too.
With the arrival of Sloth, rank 1 among the demon realm's great dukes, the friction died down instantly.
And soon.
A long silence followed that truly annoyed-sounding remark, but no one interrupted.
The slow voice paused again.
It grew even more languid as time passed.
Sloth's words came with long silences between each.
Only after a long while did the impatient Glutterni pipe up.
“...Is that all?”
No more mental waves from Sloth.
The others started chattering again.
With those words from Hubris, rank 2 great duke of the demon realm, the long-distance mental conference concluded.
The silent Beast King then growled savagely.
“...Mock me all you want. The vanguard's always been Gluttony's role by tradition.”
Thud.
Glutterni's low rage manifested in another forepaw slam.
Rumble rumble rumblerrrr.
It sank the Black Forest's ground a bit more, but Glutterni ignored such trifles.
“This body will claim the greatest feat, devour the middle realm's Karma, then eat every one of you—just like my predecessor...”
Rumble.
Glutterni—the beast who gained reason upon receiving a name from the Demon King, the strongest demon beast who devoured his predecessor to claim the great duke's throne—thus soothed his wounded pride and resumed his patient wait.
* * *
Grind grind griiiiind.
In the dark underground, a noisy wall slid open, revealing a pitch-black passage.
Number 1's face darkened at the sight—like a gateway to hell, devoid of any light.
'How do I even bring this up?'
Given the gravity, one wrong word could mean instant death.
He'd opened the door himself, yet his feet wouldn't move.
Before he could, a voice like scraping metal echoed in his ear.
“Hup!?”
Startled despite trying to stay quiet, Number 1 stumbled back.
“Th-the grand ritual already f-finished...?”
He stammered, forgetting respect in shock, but the voice continued before he could correct himself.
Good news?
“Y-yes. Understood.”
At the irresistible voice, Number 1 descended the passage against his will.
At its end, in a dimly lit space with faint light, stood a skeleton emanating immense demonic energy.
Horns—or a crown—like protrusions rose from the skull, but otherwise just humanoid bones.
Yet it moved by its own will, blue will-o'-wisps in its sockets, overwhelming demonic energy wrapping the vast underground plaza.
Its mere natural emanation terrified all life.
Number 1 paled and prostrated himself.
“H-heuk. C-congratulations on completing the grand ritual safely.”
The Kraken's demonic energy had left irreversible wounds, forcing him to abandon humanity for lichdom and imperfect immortality.
Now the organization's leader had revived even stronger.
His casual aura nearly matched his living prime at full power.
'Was a lich's forbidden art this potent? How...?'
The secret to eternal life: sealing all life force in a magic-processed vessel.
The body lost senses and biology, but gained perfect affinity for black magic.
He'd expected strength, but this surpassed imagination.
As Number 1's eyes darted in shock, the skeleton seemed to guess his thoughts, overlaying a shadowy spirit on its face in a smile.
Puzzled, Number 1 racked his brain—but the leader continued.
“8th—8th circle!?”
Number 1's head snapped up in disbelief—but it made sense.
A 7th circle magus dominated one or more elements, transcending limits.
An 8th circle grand magus ruled four or more, becoming a natural disaster.
Black magi were similar; 8th circle matched high demons below great dukes.
And no human-born grand black magus had precedent.
'How? Grace from whom?'
Ignoring his turmoil, the lich leader's skeletal face projected a black spirit resembling his living self, smug with satisfaction.
The grating voice remained, but satisfaction seeped through.
The problem: Number 1 came to report mission failure.
“Wh-what t-task, sir?”
Drenched in cold sweat, Number 1's face was ashen.
Blue will-o'-wisps flared in the skeleton's eye sockets.
Black demonic energy seized the chamber.
'D-dead!'
Chill racking his body, Number 1 prostrated deeper and blurted.
“It—it—!”
Forget excuses; the terrifying blade-at-throat aura terrified him into confessing failures honestly.
The imperial plan had collapsed miserably; Elvenheim's followers uprooted without a fight.
Of course, even then.
“We did our best, but his power defied common sense. Not quite Aura User, but top Challenger tier, I'd judge.”
I tried, but the intel was wrong from the start.
Cowardice etched in his soul shifted blame instinctively under threat.
Organization habit: Admit fault, face summary execution.
But his terror-addled brain forgot who gave the intel.
Realizing at the sigh, Number 1 slammed his head repeatedly.
“F-forgive me! I—I misspoke!”
Thud. Thud.
His hood fell, revealing a sly old man's face with short white beard.
Blood streamed from his forehead as he groveled, scrambling excuses.
“B-but the orcs' downfall proceeds smoothly. Even if he convinces the Warlord, it won't—!”
Ignoring forehead pain, he desperately emphasized his efforts.
But.
Rare mercy from Malum.
“Y-yes?!”
Expecting death, Number 1's head shot up in shock.