The Baron

After Vivian initially brought the Shadowmoon Direwolves and a portion of her scattered old forces in the area under her command, she immediately led her subordinates away from the region.

After all, the Hero Garen was still roaming nearby, and she had no desire to bump into the indignant Lord Hero.

She might be able to escape, but the first batch of demons she had just reclaimed would surely die horribly under his blade.

So, running away quickly was more important… although being meek toward humans while coming down hard on her own demon kin seemed a bit off, the current Vivian truly did not want to engage in battle or conflict with the Heroes.

There was still room for discussion within the Demon Clan, but with the Heroes, it was clearly out of the question.

“Lady Demon Lord, in this buffer zone close to the human defense line, there are still several remnants of your old forces. They’ve been integrated into the servant army of another Demon Lord—Morgos, the Demon Lord of Rot, and are suffering extremely unjust treatment.”

“We are being used as cannon fodder and vanguard scouts, undertaking the most brutal assault missions and the most dangerous reconnaissance. If you hadn’t appeared in time, Lady Demon Lord, I’m afraid we would have been sacrificed on this battlefront within a few days… Even my wolf pack, which once numbered in the hundreds, now has only a few dozen remaining.”

The alpha of the Shadowmoon Direwolves, Asi, explained the current situation to her as he carried Vivian through the dark forest.

“…I understand.”

Vivian’s eyes grew cold.

Her old forces, even if they were just remnants, were not for others to bully as they pleased.

The Demon Lord of Rot, the King of Scavengers, the Emissary of War, Morgos… he was a troublesome fellow.

Compared to the other Demon Lords, Morgos was among the oldest and a great war general of the Demon Clan.

In terms of seniority, Vivian was merely a junior compared to him.

If Morgos was in charge of this offensive, then it was indeed very troublesome.

But she would not allow her own forces to be squandered by him like this.

Following Alpha Wolf Asi’s guidance, and the faint, familiar mana fluctuations of her old forces lingering in the air, Vivian led the wolf pack and numerous other demonic creatures, arriving silently at the edge of a valley permeated with the stench of decay.

The valley was a mess, clearly having just gone through a brutal battle.

Broken human armor and weapons were scattered on the ground, but even more numerous were the severed limbs and coagulated purple-black blood of demons.

A group of exhausted, wounded demon soldiers were being driven to clean up the battlefield.

Their forms varied, but most of them were dark-element or shadow-element demons—these were precisely the troops Vivian once commanded!

And driving them on was a figure hovering haughtily in mid-air.

It was a high-ranking demon with sickly gray-green skin covered in slimy scales.

A pair of bony, jagged bat-like wings grew from his back.

He wore ornate yet sinister abyssal-style armor, and the decorations on his body indicated he was a Baron.

His face wore an unconcealed expression of contempt and cruelty as he toyed with a long, bony whip that coiled with a foul green light.

Behind him stood a squad of well-equipped, prime-condition demon warriors, a stark contrast to the demons being driven into the area to clean up the battlefield.

That was clearly the supervisory squad.

“Trash! A bunch of useless trash!”

A shrill and piercing voice echoed through the valley.

“A mere raid by a human squad, and it cost this Baron three of my precious Rot-Swamp Hounds! The worthless lives of you dregs, you defeated remnants, aren’t worth even a single toe of my hounds!”

He fiercely swung the long whip, and a foul green light lashed out like a venomous snake, striking the back of a demon-man who was carrying the corpse of a comrade.

The demon had only slowed his movements for a moment, wanting to catch his breath, that was all.

“Crack!“

With a crisp sound, the demon-man let out a pained grunt.

A bloody welt instantly appeared on his back, and he staggered and fell to the ground, a black, corrosive mark left on his back.

“Move it! Throw this garbage into the mud pit up ahead! Don’t delay this Baron’s return to report to Lord Morgos!”

The Baron scolded impatiently, as if shooing away a swarm of flies.

“If it weren’t for the fact that you still have some value in digging traps and scouting, I would have fed all of you to the Rotmire Giant Crocs long ago!”

The bodies of the surrounding demons visibly tensed, their eyes burning with the fire of humiliation as they bit their lips.

He said as much, but in reality, he was just using them as cannon fodder.

A young Shadow Demon Scout seemed to want to say something but was held back firmly by an old soldier beside him.

The old soldier’s eyes were filled with deep pain as he slowly shook his head at him.

They were once the proud night warriors under the Demon Lord of Evernight, yet now they had fallen to the point of being casually whipped and treated as consumables by a creature of this caliber!

Everyone knew in their hearts that as the old guard of a defeated Demon Lord, they were essentially a defeated army.

Their current fate was unavoidable; they only hoped to secure a path to survival for their families, nothing more.

So everyone was furious but dared not speak—even if they resisted, what then?

They were a group of losers, only trying to secure a way for their families back home to live.

The order within the Demon Clan was maintained entirely by the Demon Lords.

Once the Demon Lord they served was defeated and killed, the remaining demons, in order to secure a peaceful space for survival, could only grit their teeth and endure, even if it meant becoming consumables and cannon fodder for others.

“Hmph,” the Baron seemed to enjoy the thrill of controlling the life and death of others.

He hovered a little higher, looking down at the hundreds of demons below who were silent as cicadas in winter.

“The next wave of human attacks is just around the corner. You, and you—” He casually pointed to a few of the most heavily wounded demonic creatures.

“Go to that pass up ahead and block it with your bodies! Stall them for as long as you can, and if you die, die at that pass! Do you hear me? This is an order!”

The few demonic creatures who were pointed out trembled, the color draining from their faces, their eyes filled with despair and pleas for help.

That pass was a place of certain death; to go was to never return!

“Lord Baron! Their injuries are too severe, sending them is just sending them to their deaths! We can…”

The old soldier could finally bear it no longer and took a step forward, attempting to plead.

“Hm?” The Baron narrowed his eyes dangerously, and the bony whip in his hand once again glowed with an ominous green light.

“Are you questioning my orders? Questioning the orders of me, the great Baron, Apostle of War? You lowly insect? Or perhaps, you’d like to take their place?! You useless thing!”

He raised his whip, about to strike!

“Your orders?”

A cold, calm, yet utterly chilling female voice rang out in the valley without any warning.

The voice wasn’t loud, yet it clearly drowned out all the surrounding noise.

The Baron’s whip-swinging motion froze mid-air, and he looked toward the source of the sound, shocked and uncertain.

At the entrance to the valley, in the shadows, a squad of demons had appeared at some unknown time.

And their leader was a slender, purple-haired woman.