The flames spread endlessly, accompanied by the screams of those caught ablaze.
Desperate to retaliate, crossbow bolts were fired indiscriminately but only ended up being turned back on their shooters.
Former comrades wrestled with one another as discipline crumbled.
“…It’s been less than a week,” Mitae muttered, staring blankly at the tragic scene.
“No matter how much of a genius someone is, this is impossible, isn’t it? This… this is an insult to talent. Where… where is all this firepower coming from?”
At that moment, a report flashed through Mitae’s mind—a subordinate had once mentioned a boy who could use martial arts, magic, necromancy, and sorcery.
Mitae scanned his surroundings in silence.
“Why…? Why isn’t there an ambush?”
There should have been one, shouldn’t there?
Who could possibly wield all four powers of the Demon Realm on their own?
Throughout history, there was only one person who had ever done so.
No, no.
It couldn’t be. Why would the Demon King be in a place like this?!
“Attention, officers!”
Amid the chaos, Mitae’s voice thundered with authority.
“Behold! Heirs of the Hero! Look upon the adversary before us! The foe your bloodline, your blades, have sought to vanquish for 300 years!”
Most of the officers were still alive, spared from the destruction caused by Lerazie’s spells.
Her two magical assaults had not directly targeted the individuals, and those trained in survival knew how to endure even in such pandemonium.
“Mount your horses! If you have no steed, advance on foot! Face this foe with courage deeper than any abyss!”
At Mitae’s command, an officer blew into a war horn.
“You, the heirs of the Hero, the blades of His Imperial Majesty!”
With the horn’s resounding call, the scattered officers charged at the Demon King and Lerazie.
But Mitae did not move.
As the white-clad officers closed in from all sides, Lerazie raised both arms to counter them, only for the Demon King to gently lower her hands.
“I’ll handle this.”
The ‘dog’ remained close to Lerazie’s side as the Demon King stepped forward, drawing the attention of the officers.
These officers were far more formidable than the wardens who had guarded the prison camp.
Even amid the chaos, they obeyed their commander’s orders and charged in unison, perfectly timing their movements despite the disarray.
Still, didn’t the 3rd and 4th platoons fare the same?
The Demon King pulled fallen arrows from the ground with magic and shot them into the legs of the horses.
As the horses stumbled, their riders shared the same fate.
Once they lost the key momentum of their charge, the officers were nothing more than insects before the Demon King.
With each swing of his sword, there was a flash of light.
With each flash, crimson blood painted the air.
Like an artist performing a deadly dance, he created a blooming field of red flowers.
At the center of this massacre stood only one boy, surrounded by the fallen lives of fifty valiant officers.
Those who aimed for Lerazie instead of the Demon King were no better off, as they fell victim to the ‘dog’ guarding her.
The boy Demon King.
Even at a fraction of his prime strength, he was far beyond what these insignificant foes could handle.
Mitae, having witnessed everything, laughed with a face twisted in madness.
But unlike before, his laughter carried no trace of joy.
“Ha… hahaha…”
The magic that turned arrows back.
The martial arts that slaughtered the officers.
The necromancy that raised the dead.
And the sorcery etched into his blade.
“…Damn it… damn it… it’s the Demon King. He’s really the Demon King. But why? Why here, where I am? Why?!”
The moment Mitae’s eyes caught the boy’s movements, a chilling sight unfolded.
The swords held by countless officers floated into the air, all pointing directly at Mitae.
“Hiiik…!”
In a panic, Mitae drew his sword and scrambled toward the cage holding the children, clutching onto the iron bars desperately.
“Stop! If I die, they die too! I—I’ve linked them to a miracle!”
A miracle referred to one of the powers of the mortal realm.
Hearing this, the Demon King smiled—a twisted grin of insanity reminiscent of the one that had terrorized the world 300 years ago.
Yes, he already knew.
From the moment their eyes met on this battlefield, the Demon King was aware of the “tricks” Mitae had prepared.
The Demon King had planned meticulously even before encountering them.
Given the cruel colonial system they upheld, it was impossible to predict what torment they had inflicted on the children.
Victory in this fight was a given. But the true goal of the battle was to rescue the children.
Mitae and his ilk were using the children as bait to lure Lerazie in.
From the moment they met on this battlefield, the children’s value had diminished.
The captors would hesitate no longer to harm or abandon the children.
Thus, the Demon King needed to create a reason for them to keep the children alive.
Even though he was aware of the miracle, the Demon King aimed his sword at Mitae to manipulate his mind.
From this moment on, the children became Mitae’s lifeline.
When the Demon King lowered his sword, relief crashed over Mitae’s heart like a tidal wave.
And at that moment, Mitae became the Demon King’s mental slave.
If the children died, Mitae would die.
If the children were lost, Mitae would die.
If the miracle connecting them broke, Mitae would die.
So now, who was the true prisoner?
Mitae climbed onto a cart carrying the iron cage, alone.
Without a hint of doubt, he urged the horses forward, fleeing the scene.
The one most enraged by this act was Peña.
“Mitae, Chief Inspector! Where do you think you’re going?!”
However, even Anzak, Peña’s most trusted subordinate, had no solutions for this situation.
Crushing the skull of a zombie with one hand, Anzak turned to the merchant leader.
“This won’t work.”
There was an odd hint of laughter in Anzak’s voice.
“What did you say?”
“The rebel boy… he’s a monster. We can’t win.”
“A knight of the Empire, scared of a mere boy?!”
“It’s not me who’s scared—it’s your men. That sorceress? She’s nothing. Her magic is flashy but lacks killing power. Only the unlucky ones get caught. But the boy… he’s the real problem.”
Peña looked around.
Men pierced by arrows. Men burned alive. Men torn apart fighting zombies.
There were indeed many casualties.
But among the survivors, not a single one could still fight.
They cowered on the ground, trembling in corners, paralyzed by fear.
Many had already abandoned the battlefield and fled.
Peña remembered Mitae’s scornful assessment of these men as untrained scum.
Lerazie’s magic had been mere theatrics to instill terror.
The boy, however, had shown true power.
Even Anzak, a knight of the Empire, had no confidence in defeating him.
“You understand now, don’t you?”
“…Are you saying we should give up?”
“We have to, don’t we?”
“Do you realize how much money I’ve invested in them?!”
“Is that money worth more than your life?”
“Arghhh!”
Anzak, ever pragmatic, led the merchant leader and his personal slaves away from the battlefield, their faces twisted in anger and despair.
Mitae, Anzak, and Peña—all key figures—had fled.
Lerazie tried to pursue them, but the Demon King raised a hand to stop her.
“Don’t corner a rat.”
“But… my friends!”
“You heard it yourself. He’s tied his life to a miracle.”
The Demon King gently patted Lerazie’s head to reassure her.
The roles of hunter and prey had already shifted completely.
“They’ll never leave the Demon Realm alive.”
“…How will you catch them?”
“There are plenty of them here.”
The Demon King’s gaze fell on the slavers hiding in the shadows, trembling for their lives.
“They will guide us.”