111. The Demon King Appears

Demons act just like they look. As devilish as they appear, their deeds aren't much different from actual devils, and their attitudes shift depending on their power at any given moment. Well, maybe they're a bit different from real devils. Point is, every last one of them is like that.

I already knew these bastards were plotting to betray me. I'd overheard them whispering among themselves. Tearing this arrogant human limb from limb, skewering me on a spit, all that shit—they were cackling about the cruelest crap imaginable.

Did they think I couldn't hear? These fuckers had used their brains a little, communicating via telepathy just like the high elf king on the ninth floor. They figured no one could eavesdrop if they didn't strain their ears. Unfortunately for them, I can intercept telepathy.

The main monsters on the twelfth floor were some kind of hive-mind creatures, like the zerg from StarCraft. They'd communicated with each other via telepathy while swarming me. In the chaos of fighting them, my frequency synced up once by sheer luck. Probably because of my Mana Control skill—I react sensitively to anything involving mana.

Leveraging that experience, I'd mastered the trick of tuning into mana wavelengths to secretly eavesdrop on telepathy or mind speech about a month ago. I never thought I'd get ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to use that half-assed skill so soon.

"I'll return the pain you inflicted on me right back at you!"

With one demon's declaration, a barrage of spells filled my vision. Most magic doesn't even faze me, but these didn't look ordinary. They'd definitely powered up big time.

I slashed the lead rock projectile out of the air with my sword. It exploded on impact, spraying shards everywhere. Each fragment carried enough mana to wound me properly. But I'd expected this much.

I thrust my shield forward, wrapped it in Iron Wall, and charged. This volley hadn't come from one demon—it was a simultaneous attack from all the demons here. Which meant their uncoordinated assault was full of gaps. Like this.

-Ting!

I infused my shield with mana and ricocheted one rock shard along a precise path. Several spells collided as a result. My greatest specialty is still projectile manipulation, even now. This wasn't throwing, but anything projectile-related is my domain.

The spells, their trajectories tangled by the rebounding shard, detonated wildly on impact. Some even veered toward other demons. Hardly any hit me. As expected—once you breach a bullet hell barrage once, the rest crumbles.

I took a few scrapes here and there, but punching through the first wave left them wide open. Had their arrogance surged back with their restored power? Did they really think this paltry spell barrage would neutralize me? Pathetic.

These were the same shits who'd dropped after one or two hits from me—why did they delude themselves into thinking they knew my limits? Did they assume that if they could pierce my defenses, a frail human would fold easily? Fair enough, maybe.

They'd all gone down in seconds, so they hadn't even glimpsed my Super Regeneration.

"This shit heals with a little spit, you fucking idiots!"

I plunged into their ranks, swinging my sword like a maniac.

The yellow demon deployed his seven horns and charged me with two axes wreathed in magic. With his Essence of Power restored, boosting both physical prowess and magic, his momentum was worlds apart from before.

I pulled two axes from my inventory and met him head-on, Lightning Charge crackling around them.

-Kwachik!

His axe bit into my shoulder. Without flinching, I slammed mine into his.

-Kwachik!

His other hand swung down, cracking my collarbone. I countered, carving his side.

We hacked at each other like we'd agreed to it, axes crashing indiscriminately.

-Kwachik! Kwachik! Kwachik!

Trading blows like this with a demon—superior in both body and mana—is pure insanity. Even identical strikes would shred the inferior human far worse. Obvious.

But my defense and endurance blatantly defy that logic.

The axes flew madly.

-Kwachik! Kwachik! Kwachik!

As the frenzy continued, my axes accelerated while his slowed. Wound counts diverged. And depth? Mine had been deeper from the start—more precise, sinking truer.

Dozens of exchanges in mere seconds, and the yellow demon crumpled first.

-Thud.

I brought my axe down on his kneeling crown, maxed out with Lightning Charge and Great Combat.

-Kwarung!

A lightning bolt of a strike split his skull and charred it golden-brown.

The upper and demon king-class demons who'd arrived with us had already felled more than half. Plenty remained, but the survivors—despite their essences—were cowering, lobbing timid spell probes like elementary kids pelting a feral dog with pebbles.

Problem was, this dog had no leash.

I leaped into the outfield, carving them up. A few more dropped; fewer stood. Soon, even the pebbles stopped.

"Damn it all, get out of my way!"

One upper demon shoved through, desperate to flee. Oh no you don't, asshole.

I could tolerate their arrogance, their underestimation. But snarfing an essence and bolting? No.

I popped Haste and All-Out for an agility boost, snagged his nape mid-escape, and smashed his face into the wall, spinning him halfway around the room.

-Kwa-kwa-gwa-kwak!

He flailed and attacked, but I ignored it. Time for a new toy from inventory—a unique from a world boss raid.

A red greatsword with a corkscrew blade. Solid base stats, but its gimmick shines: activate, and the twists become blades that spin.

I rammed it into the fleeing demon's gut and triggered the active.

-Giiiing... Gaga-gaga-gak!

The massive drill shredded his insides. He gurgled incoherently, limbs spasming as a ragged hole tore open ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠his belly.

All that talk of ripping my limbs, skewering me—and now they freak?

"Can't abandon your revolutionary ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠comrades and run alone, punk."

No escape for them. Charge without flinching, and I'd grant a quick end. To drive it home, they trembled... then knelt.

"Y-You are the new Demon King! W-We pledge our loyalty!"

Well, shit. Who said surrender? And why call a human Demon King? Kinda pisses—

—off-putting? Nah, I'll be the Demon King, whatever.

Talk is cheap—I didn't have time to play king. I forced fights with the surrenderers, slaughtered them, and shattered their Essences of Power. Turns out slicing open the gut after absorption lets you extract them. Shame I couldn't absorb 'em myself.

The quest cleared—all conditions met except one spared intentionally—plus an unexpected achievement.

Massive EXP bumped me a level, and I snagged a new skill: Dark Spirit's Blessing. Spirit blessing skills are hearty staples—solid haul.

But the main event was next. Roturang, the demon king-class I'd deliberately spared, was still kicking.

"Hurry the fuck up already."

I was tired of pretending ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠not to notice him lurking in stealth. I cleared out, hunting mid-tier demons elsewhere. Killed the hundred-odd who'd stormed the Demon King's Castle with me, plus a few squatters. None were impressive; even taking my time, it didn't drag.

Another achievement mid-hunt. Minor intelligence boost.

I sorted my gains, then returned to the essence storage room. Roturang seemed nearly ready—possessing the Gray Demon King's body.

"Kuhuhu... This is the end for you, arrogant human!"

When I overheard this plan via telepathy, I was thrilled. No Gray Demon King? Make one. Bonus: study possession magic, fight something way beyond fourteenth-floor level.

Wouldn't crack open my cheese pork cutlet bento for less.