“Cardin, you said you serve as the Guardian Knight of the Demon King here, didn’t you?”
Inside the Demon King’s audience chamber.
Now seated in the large chair behind the desk, Clay addressed Cardin, who stood just beyond.
“But you don’t exactly feel like a formal knight. Can you tell me what your official role actually is?”
“Of course. Though, it’s not exactly a title in the usual sense.”
“What do you mean?”
“I served in the shadows as the Blade in the Dark.”
The Blade in the Dark—an operative who handled the most covert and dangerous missions, protecting the Demon King from behind the curtain, invisible to the world.
“Even the former Demon King and his retainers only ever called me by name. So there’s no official rank to speak of.”
“No title, huh.”
Clay lowered his gaze briefly, thinking it over.
Not that the title matters that much.
Cardin watched him in silence.
So long as I can become the sword wielded by the Demon King… that’s enough.
Humans had branded all demons as abominations that must be eradicated from existence. While much of it stemmed from political agendas—certain humans seeking to consolidate power—the result was the same: demons were treated like garbage.
Without the Demon King’s presence, the demon race might never have had the means to resist.
But can this man truly become the Demon King?
If he were Demon King in name only, Cardin could not serve him. For the sake of vengeance—for the fallen members of his kin, he needed a king who could wield ruthlessness as a weapon.
And the man seated before him was none other than the former Hero of humankind.
Even if Beatrice, the proxy of the Dark One, had acknowledged him, Cardin had yet to do so. If anything, he still harbored doubt.
If necessary… I’ll be the one to end him, even at the cost of my life.
Just having talent wasn’t enough to claim the mantle of the Demon King. The future of the entire demon race rested on this.
“…Cardin.”
Clay finally broke the silence.
“Yes, Lord Clay.”
“I want to see your skills.”
“…Excuse me?”
Cardin blinked in surprise at the sudden request.
“You heard me. If you were qualified to guard the Demon King, especially now, as we rebuild—your skills must be formidable. I'm guessing you’re more than capable.”
“I merely did what I could to avoid failing my duties.”
Clay rose from his seat.
“If it’s alright, could I borrow a sword? I can’t summon the Holy Sword right now—not without returning to the sanctuary.”
Watching Clay extend his hand, Cardin gulped.
Is he serious?
It was uncomfortable enough that someone who would become Demon King mentioned the Holy Sword, but now he was asking to be armed.
Was he trying to test Cardin?
Even if it’s just swordplay, it’s absurd.
Clay, deprived of divine power, couldn’t match a demon like Cardin who could use magic. So at most, this could only be a duel of pure swordsmanship.
But even that felt ridiculous to Cardin.
The Hero only stood above others because of his divine power…
Not because of superior martial prowess. At least, that’s what Cardin believed.
Fine.
He wasn’t fond of Beatrice’s idea to place a former Hero on the Demon King’s throne to begin with. This was the perfect opportunity to teach him that such a title wasn’t easily earned.
“…Understood.”
Cardin swept a hand through the air.
The space shimmered as it split open into black ripples, and a sword in its sheath appeared in his hand.
“A shared vault,” Clay murmured.
It was different from the Hero’s sanctuary, which only Clay could access. Demons used a collective space where anyone could store and retrieve equipment through magical displacement.
There were limits based on one’s strength, but all demons shared their tools of war.
Thunk.
Cardin handed Clay the sword. Clay immediately drew it with a clean motion.
“Cardin, would you grant me a match?”
Cardin almost let out a laugh at how sudden this challenge was. Instead, he silently pulled another sword from the shared vault.
“Will a live blade be alright?”
“Thanks for the concern. But this is just a spar, so it’s fine.”
Cardin had asked to see if Clay might back down, but the answer came calmly.
“Shall we begin?”
With that, Cardin reflexively adopted a stance.
“…Very well. Let’s.”
The blade in his hand gleamed under the soft lighting of the office. Clay, too, took his stance, bringing his sword upright in front of his chest.
What’s this?
Clay’s posture was straight—almost like a statue. The blade stood perfectly vertical before him. It didn’t seem aggressive or defensive.
Is he just bluffing?
Without divine power, he couldn’t use techniques that relied on it. So maybe this posture was just for show.
In that case…
Cardin’s eyes sharpened as he lunged forward.
I’ll teach you what a real blade feels like!
Whoosh!
Silent Flash Blade.
His technique was built on extreme speed and discretion—so fast the blade wouldn’t even be seen before it reached the target’s throat.
Clang!
The swords collided.
What?!
Clay’s reaction had clearly been delayed. There hadn’t even been time to swing—yet their blades clashed cleanly.
Slide.
Clay hadn’t even lowered his sword. He simply twisted his body, intercepting Cardin’s strike with minimal movement. Then he stepped forward.
He’s upright… He can’t beat my low center of gravity in a power struggle…
Cardin didn’t pull back his blade. He hoped Clay, unbalanced, would fall backward under pressure.
But—
“!”
Just before stepping, Clay had already lowered his posture, rotating the sword to strike at Cardin’s foot.
Clang!
Cardin leapt back and deflected the blade, swinging his sword downward.
But it was a mistake.
As if he had predicted the move, Clay used the momentum from his spin to kick at Cardin’s supporting leg.
Thud!
Cardin barely kept himself upright by stabbing his sword into the ground.
“Tch…!”
Flustered, he launched another attack. But his strikes were growing impatient.
This is insane. He’s this fast?!
Even with his seal weakened by Beatrice, Clay shouldn’t be able to match Cardin’s speed. Yet here he was, consistently deflecting his blade.
There was no way to block this consistently without predicting each strike in advance.
“I see,” Clay muttered, “You admired the former Demon King, didn’t you?”
“…!”
“Even your swordplay isn’t much different from his.”
Cardin exhaled sharply and retreated. Clay remained composed, watching him.
“You… you knew?”
“Knew what? That you’d mimic the previous Demon King’s sword style? Or that you refuse to acknowledge me as the new one?”
Cardin’s face twisted in shame. Clay lowered his voice.
“I didn’t know at first. I only realized while clashing blades with you. It felt like you wanted to test me.”
“…Forgive me.”
“No need,” Clay’s tone was unbothered, “If anything, I’m grateful. You reminded me… this position isn’t something I can take for free.”
He drove the borrowed sword into the floor.
“That’s a relief, actually,” He smiled faintly, “This way, my goal becomes clearer.”
“A goal…?”
“To annihilate the place I once belonged to.”
But Clay knew that goal wouldn’t come easily. And even if it did, letting go of the burden in his heart wouldn’t be so simple.
“Like when I became a Hero… I’ll need a trial. Only then will this path feel justified.”
Cardin’s breath hitched.
He couldn’t mean…
Clay spoke words Cardin had never expected.
“So keep testing me. As long as it doesn’t get in the way, I’ll treat it as a trial.”
At that moment, Cardin saw it.
The searing rage buried in Clay’s soul—the vengeance of a man betrayed, now aimed at the world. It made Cardin shiver and drop to his knees.
“I have wronged the one acknowledged by the Dark One! Please, grant me punishment!”
“Punishment? I was just thinking of something.”
Clay stepped forward and held out his hand.
“From now on, be the commander of the Darkmoon Knights I intend to create.”
“…What?”
“Honor and structure are important.”
Clay smiled.
“If we want to win, we need a system.”
A force capable of striking at the enemy’s vitals, countering every weapon they bring.
As Cardin stared at him, realization finally dawned.
Beatrice hadn’t just brought someone back.
She’d brought back the worst possible enemy the humans could’ve made.
♧
“…I thank you all for attending this humble banquet held in my land of Logram!”
On the border between Krata and Marfane.
More precisely, the northernmost territory of Marfane, right before Krata, the Logram Banquet had commenced.
“Thanks to your support, our holy war nears victory! Soon, we’ll wipe the remaining filthy demons from this world and avenge our god’s honor!”
Marquis Raviton, lord of Logram, spread his arms with a beaming smile.
“Tonight, we are blessed with noble guests beyond my capacity to introduce! They have come to lend their support to our righteous crusade!”
He turned to the side of the stage, voice booming.
“And now, to grace this celebration—our future leader, the Crown Prince, heir of His Holiness Lutan of Holy Krata!”
Applause erupted from the gathered nobles at the mention of the prince.
But at that very moment—
“…Huh? What’s that?”
A soldier stationed at the perimeter blinked, eyes narrowing as he spotted something streaking across the sky like a meteor.
(End of Chapter)