Chapter 389

Chapter 389
## Chapter 389

Succubus (1)

The Demon World, an adjacent realm tied to Auterica, possessed a relatively modest scale.

Its overall landmass was roughly comparable to that of the Ion Continent.

Furthermore, it completely lacked vast bodies of water like oceans.

Myriad predatory beasts blanketed the territory like common fauna, and even the indigenous flora had transitioned into aggressive carnivores that hunted living creatures for sustenance.

Given such a merciless environment, it was only a matter of course that the demons inhabiting this realm developed into formidable combatants.

‘It is perfectly clear now why they harbor a perpetual desire to launch invasions into other realms.’

This was a harsh truth, a reality that had become completely undeniable from the moment she set foot here.

Hella exhaled a quiet sigh, her eyes dropping toward the repulsive culinary creation placed before her.

She had never truly anticipated encountering an actual specimen of this sort, something she had previously only witnessed in the distorted caricatures of animated shows.

“This does not suit my tastes, so remove it at once. You may consume it yourself if you wish.”

“Your will shall be done, Hella-nim.”

The attendants promptly cleared the platter from the table and exited the chambers.

Hella watched the departing meal, its multitude of ocular organs still fixed in her direction, and she made a clicking sound with her tongue to express her deep revulsion.

‘There is an absolute dearth of meaningful activity in this place. Food serves merely as an amusement for the ruling class, and even those offerings are remarkably pathetic. Aside from that, the solitary avenues of recreation consist of blood sport in the arenas and games of chance.’

Because demons did not rely on nourishment to sustain their lifespans, their culinary traditions had progressed along a bizarre trajectory, aiming exclusively at provoking the palate through extreme sensations.

‘Naturally, the severe scarcity of usable ingredients plays a significant role in this failure.’

Under such oppressive conditions, even if certain demons possessed an inherent appreciation for artistic endeavors or literary works, they would find it virtually impossible to display such inclinations publicly.

‘…I see. This is an issue I must eventually resolve.’

A vibrant, flourishing civilization was an incredibly potent instrument for maintaining political authority.

To be sure, within the hierarchy of the Demon World where raw capability reigned supreme, no individual would dare cross the decrees of a Demon King… yet there remained a vast difference between genuine devotion and submission extracted by raw intimidation.

‘Regardless, that is a matter to be dealt with down the road.’

Hella shifted her gaze across the expanse of the quarters.

Vibrant canvases, intricate carvings, and unusual, foreign suits of armor met her eyes…

This particular room, embellished with an assortment of creative masterworks seldom encountered within this realm, was located outside the walls of Dalun’s stronghold, which had been her initial destination.

“Please accept my deepest regrets, Hella-nim. Constructing a genuinely exquisite feast is an uphill battle given the meager resources native to the Demon World…”

“Think nothing of it, Cromwell. I am well aware of the circumstances.”

Hella made a careless motion with her hand to reassure the figure who had stepped toward her with a deferential posture.

He was a demon of humanoid configuration, though possessing the cloven lower limbs and prominent horns of a goat, paired with distinct rectangular pupils.

At present, she was residing within the domain governed by Cromwell, an individual holding the rank of a Viscount demon.

Her authority, which had commenced its swift expansion across the realm with the backing of Dalun, had successfully reached the doorstep of this particular connoisseur of the arts.

“What is the status of our current enterprise?”

“Rest assured, Hella-nim. I, Cromwell, possess the most expansive social web throughout the entirety of the Demon World. While securing an audience with the Dukes or the topmost echelon of aristocracy might prove problematic amidst this current upheaval, managing anyone below that status is as effortless as shattering the skull of a goblin.”

…Could that be a traditional phrase native to this realm?

Though it carried a distinctly brutal undertone, she grasped the core message he intended to convey. The objective was remarkably simple.

‘…Fortune favors me. Securing the allegiance of such an exceptionally useful instrument in so short a time.’

Viscount Cromwell was not only exceptionally proficient in the arts of spatial sorcery but also an incredibly adept conversationalist with a massive web of relationships.

He maintained a strictly unaligned stance, remaining detached from the major political blocs.

Consequently, he was uniquely suited to serve as a conduit connecting not just the unaligned groups but the warring factions as well, rendering him an asset of immeasurable worth.

‘Then again, this outcome was not born of pure chance.’

His extensive network of acquaintances happened to include the Baron-level demon, Dalun.

Cromwell had unhesitatingly agreed to Dalun’s proposal for a meeting, and the subsequent events unfolded naturally.

“Maintaining absolute confidentiality is critical. We cannot afford to draw scrutiny upon ourselves at this stage.”

“Have no fear on that account. I am a creature of society, known for partaking in dialogue with countless individuals. None shall find my interactions peculiar.”

The coalition gathering under Hella’s banner, a fresh political entity within the realm, was expanding its reach day by day.

The demonic entities swearing fealty to her maintained their outward roles within their respective original organizations, all while quietly constructing an entirely separate network of authority—a subterranean hierarchy hidden beneath the visible landscape.

‘There is zero cause to fret over internal treachery. The foot soldiers are kept entirely insulated from critical data.’

The principal commanders of each faction, alongside their topmost administrators, had already been brought firmly under her domain.

While subduing high-ranking aristocratic demons still demanded a measured expenditure of time and strategy, the common thralls were comparatively trivial to bend to her will.

Furthermore, the intelligence operatives from rival organizations who had abandoned their former masters to pledge allegiance to her provided an incredibly beneficial advantage.

‘…As the old adage goes, repetition breeds expertise.’

This went far beyond the simple application of her 「Eyes of Domination」.

Even taking into account that she had entered existence blessed with staggering cosmic power, a supreme entity from her very inception, she still required a period of adjustment to fully synchronize with her physical vessel and command its full potential.

Her initial efforts, operating under the self-assumed title of Demon King, had been somewhat unpolished and flawed.

During that phase, she had leaned heavily upon her innate allure and psychological subversion techniques.

However, those days were firmly behind her now.

《The Demon God gazes upon you with approval.》

That celestial notice served as undeniable validation.

The prime deity of the realm, whether due to being preoccupied with larger matters or because it had previously deemed her underdeveloped, had at long last directed its divine attention toward her actions.

“I shall provide you with an abundance of relics gathered from foreign civilizations and distant realms, so see to it that you exert your utmost effort.”

“Ah! Relics from distant realms! I, Cromwell, shall commit my entire existence to executing the mandates of Hella-nim!”

Cromwell, a demon so deeply enamored with aesthetic creations that he routinely traded his specialized skills for foreign treasures, dropped into a profound bow, his tone radiating pure exhilaration.

Hella, having successfully stoked the enthusiasm of her follower with the guarantee of exotic prizes, offered a brief nod of agreement.

Cromwell, with his unmatched aptitude for spatial manipulation and his charming public persona, was a highly prized instrument capable of facilitating the entry of Hubert’s Trading Company into the market of the Demon World.

She would need to cultivate his talents with great care.

“Oh! Hella-nim, there is an additional matter that requires your immediate attention.”

“Mmh? What might that be?”

Hella shifted her head to the side, her deep red eyes blinking in curiosity as Cromwell, her provisional regional administrator for the Demon World, spoke with measured caution.

He inhaled a measured breath, attempting to steady his fluttering pulse as he remained under her gaze.

He had already obtained a painful education on the matter, having faced swift retribution for his overly effusive praises during their introductory encounter.

He understood the necessity of absolute care, lest he draw the ire of his new liege, who clearly possessed a volatile temperament.

“I have successfully established a line of communication with the Dream Walkers. In accordance with your explicit mandates, they demonstrated a profound eagerness to align with us. They indicated they are fully prepared to receive your presence the very instant you choose to arrive.”

“Oh? Is that the case?”

Hella’s gaze brightened perceptibly, a satisfied expression overtaking her features.

While anchoring her dominion within the hierarchy of the Demon World was a vital objective, the alternate task held equal significance.

“In that case, there is no rationale for delaying. I shall depart for their territory immediately, so initiate the activation of the gateway.”

“Your commands shall be executed forthwith.”

The Dream Walkers.

A formidable collective commanded by a demon holding the rank of Marquis…

Moreover, this was the ancestral domain of the succubi, the exact lineage that had given rise to the 14th Demon King, L’rei’e—the very source from which Hella drew her existence.

—

The grand structure of Roselia Temple, situated within the consecrated territory of Auterica.

“…Mmh, this is perplexing. Could my senses have deceived me?”

Saintess Liesta, currently engaged in her spiritual devotions within the sanctuary, knit her brows and tilted her head in confusion.

“I am certain that a distinct sensation washed over me…”

The occurrence had transpired a mere matter of days ago.

She had been faithfully executing her spiritual obligations while simultaneously keeping a watchful eye on the geopolitical landscape of the continent, remaining vigilant against any sudden machinations from the Immortal King… when she suddenly detected a highly irregular presence.

‘The impression closely resembled the spiritual signature of a demon devotee rather than a wandering undead creature. It persisted for a brief window before vanishing entirely.’

She had spent her sporadic moments of leisure attempting to trace its origin.

She simply could not afford to dismiss a lingering hazard, regardless of how overwhelming her schedule appeared.

‘…I possess absolutely no substantive clues outside of the Tulc Kingdom.’

She let out a quiet breath and dismissed the line of thought with a shake of her head.

It was useless to fixate on a spiritual impression that lacked concrete confirmation. Her plate was already overflowing with critical matters.

The crisis surrounding the White Giant, which had struck deep anxiety into the heart of the continent, had reached a absolute conclusion following the creature’s downfall within the territory of Tarak.

Saintess Liesta, who had attached herself to the punitive forces to immediately counteract the peril, had since reassumed her ordinary administrative functions… yet this transition brought no reduction to her massive responsibilities.

Scarcely a moment after that crisis, an assault launched by the ‘Apostle of the Foreign God’ had struck Roselia Temple, inflicting severe structural and spiritual harm, and the sacred assembly convened to select the subsequent spiritual leader had only just reached its end…

“Hold on, Tarak?”

She went rigid, her chain of thought abruptly shattered by an intense spiritual premonition.

Previously, it had been merely one name among a vast catalog of potential areas… but in this exact instant, her internal guidance was practically demanding that she lock her focus onto Tarak.

“Mmh, Tarak…”

The settlement had already established itself as a major urban center in the past, but its borders and population had swelled exponentially following the decision by Hubert’s Trading Company—a commercial enterprise spanning the entire continent—to plant its central base of operations there.

It now functioned as a critical nexus for transit, linking the grand Empire situated in the central lands with the Western Kingdom Alliance.

‘…This is something I cannot simply pass over.’

Offering a firm nod of assent, she pivoted,

…directing her steps deeper back toward the inner chambers of the temple.

She had operated as the functional overseer of the Main God Church from the exact moment the preceding Pope succumbed to a debilitating affliction.

Though the council of Cardinals and various high-ranking spiritual officials offered their administrative backing, the ultimate weight of governance sat squarely upon her shoulders.

It had proved to be an immensely grueling endeavor at times, yet…

‘…I am no longer forced to bear this weight in isolation.’

She now possessed a dedicated partner with whom she could split the burden of leadership.

Heinrich, the designated Saint elevated by the choices of the Main God, a warrior consecrated to the light who was prophesied to bring down the malicious Immortal King, the very apex of corruption.

“—Heinrich-nim.”

Dropping to her knees while gripping her consecrated talisman tightly, she allowed her eyelids to close,

…transmitting a spiritual communication directly to her most reliable ally.

[“…Saintess? To what do I owe this communication? Has some crisis unfolded at the sanctuary?”]

[“Ah, please forgive my sudden intrusion upon your time. A matter of grave importance has arisen that requires our mutual consultation…”]

As their thoughts interlinked in dialogue,

…a subtle, gentle curve, entirely unprompted by conscious intent, formed across her lips.

—

A vast, expansive chamber, crammed with an array of complex runic arrays and mechanical apparatuses, illuminated the real-time geopolitical dynamics of the continent.

A multitude of men and women, each exhibiting an incredibly striking and distinct physical makeup, moved with hurried intensity throughout the space.

They had previously managed to preserve a highly unstable equilibrium alongside rival factions, but the recent upheaval in the balance of power had thoroughly shattered that stability, sending the Demon World spiraling into an era of extreme friction that left them scrambling to maintain control.

“…Has the communication with their party been brought to a close?”

“Precisely, Matriarch. We have performed a secondary verification through Cromwell, and the integrity of our security lines remains absolute.”

A female figure appearing to be in her early thirties, her countenance bearing the deep lines of profound exhaustion, turned on her heel to walk toward the adjoining passageway, while an attractive, horned male dressed in the fashion of a high-level administrator followed closely in her wake.

She gave a measured nod of understanding, then shifted her attention to another female companion pacing alongside them, inquiring,

“Siana, are you absolutely certain that this individual carried the true essence of the Queen?”

“Without a doubt, Matriarch. I verified it directly with my own eyes.”

“Sigh… I was merely praying for some manner of divine intervention… To think that such a treasure was residing all this time upon the continent…”

Siana, who had operated as a functional component within the Immortal Fortress until quite recently as a conscript of the Immortal Army,

…was now standing once more within the ancestral territory of the Dream Walkers located in the Demon World, her true birthplace.

She had originally been dispatched on a highly specialized assignment under the direct orders of the Immortal King.

Her objective was to finally conclude a tracking directive she had been assigned to execute multiple centuries in the past.

“Your performance has been exemplary, Siana. I never truly anticipated that you would bring this hunt to a successful resolution. You have brought immense honor to our line.”

“…The credit is not entirely mine, Matriarch. I functioned merely as a vessel to deliver the news…”

“Say no more. Had you not successfully embedded yourself within the ranks of the Immortal King and secured his complete confidence, we would lack any avenue to exploit this development. Had an individual bearing the Queen’s essence aligned themselves with a rival collective instead…”

The Succubus Matriarch experienced a sudden tremor, shaking her head rapidly as the color drained from her face.

Siana, typically characterized by her detached and stoic demeanor, felt a wave of self-consciousness wash over her due to the overwhelming commendations.

She had significantly altered the details of her official accounts. In truth, she had been a mere captive of the Immortal King, pressed into involuntary bondage.

“Does the individual possessing that essence truly command such terrifying authority?”

“…Yes. It was an entity far beyond my capacity to even comprehend. A profound sense of helplessness washed over me the precise instant our paths crossed. It felt precisely like…”

Siana’s words suddenly cut short.

Like… what exactly?

She pressed her teeth against her lower lip, forcing down the specific phrasing that had nearly slipped past her guard.

That particular designation, that sacred title, was not something to be bandied about in casual conversation.

Most notably not within the presence of the Matriarch, who had personally lived through that identical historical epoch.

As she entered a state of internal panic, her consciousness momentarily freezing up,

“Matriarch! An urgent transmission has just arrived from Cromwell.”

…a sharp exclamation, carrying an undertone of sudden alarm, shattered the silence.

Her administrative aide, an incubus, pressed his fingers against the side of his head with his brows knit tightly together as he delivered the update.

“What are the details? Is his arrival imminently expected?”

“…Yes, indeed.”

“Excellent. Our window of opportunity is narrowing rapidly. You have already transmitted the required passcodes to his position, correct? What is the exact timeline for his arrival?”

“…Well…”

Their footsteps had brought them to the central translocation hall, a space dominated by countless magical arrays carved into the stone.

This area represented one of their highest-priority tactical assets, utilized for the rapid deployment of combat battalions and material assets to various active war zones.

A fresh contingent of operational reinforcements was currently in the middle of preparing for mobilization.

The Matriarch, her vision sharpening as she surveyed the bustling environment, began organizing the logistical steps in her thoughts, when…

“…Right now.”

“What?”

…the aide whispered.

The very instant the words left his mouth,

Hummmmm—

…a specialized translocation array positioned in a far corner of the grand hall flared to life, radiating an intense light accompanied by a sharp, resonant drone.

The art of translocation, a highly sophisticated and multi-layered branch of sorcery, typically demanded a prolonged period of calculation and energy gathering to achieve full activation.

Even when relying on pre-established runic arrays, there existed an immutable period of latency required for the magical currents to balance themselves safely.

Vrooooom—!

Yet the phenomenon occurring before their eyes completely shattered every established tenet of magical theory.

A sequence that routinely required multiple minutes to unfold was completely squeezed into a span of mere heartbeats, the standard progressive phases entirely bypassed as the final effect materialized instantaneously.

Such an occurrence offered undeniable proof of a practically matchless command over the fabric of sorcery,

…paired with a nearly unfathomable reservoir of raw magical energy.

The gateway, forced into active status within a literal breath, tore wide open,

…and a singular silhouette stepped through the threshold.

“…L’rei’e?”

The Succubus Matriarch, a being whose lifespan extended beyond a full millennium, drew in a sharp breath, her mouth falling open in absolute disbelief.