“You few, you may enter.”
The towering guard with ten eyes waved his scale-covered hand and stepped aside.
The moment they crossed the threshold, noise crashed over them!
The broad main avenue was packed shoulder to shoulder with all kinds of strange races. The air was thick with the mingled scents of food, spices, and a peculiar magical energy.
Buildings rose high on both sides, decorated with glowing magic crystals and fluttering banners.
“Whoa! This lineup…” one companion gawked. “Compared to this, Deep Snow Port is just a village in the sticks!”
“Mostly because of the two-hundred-year celebration,” another said, still calm. “Even the Demon King’s City normally wouldn’t be this crowded.”
Wo didn’t speak, but his heart was no less shaken than his companions’. The bustling splendor, the likes of which he had never seen before, made him instinctively clutch his clothes tighter.
“Wo, let’s split up for now.”
His companion patted his shoulder. “Remember, three days later at dawn, we meet at the city gates.”“Got it.” Wo nodded, watching them vanish into the crowd before turning down a side alley.
He had come here mainly because he had heard the Demon King’s City contained the most complete collections of magic arrays and potion books, and he wanted to pick some that suited him.
But before that…
Wo rubbed his stomach. After gnawing on hard salted fish the whole journey, now that he was finally in the fabled capital, how could he not try the local food?
Following the aroma and chatter, he chose a tavern that was nearly full and buzzing with life.
Even before squeezing inside, the heated voices of discussion reached his ears:
“Hey, hey! You think we’ll see the Demon King at this festival?”
“Probably! I heard at the hundred-year celebration he came in person. This is the two-hundredth, so it should be the same!”
“Heavens! To see His Majesty with my own eyes… this trip is worth it, no matter how far!”
Clearly, Wo wasn’t the only one who had traveled from afar.
But when he finally squeezed through the doorway, the roar inside suddenly died, as if strangled.
Countless eyes—curious, suspicious, and tinged with faint rejection—stabbed like needles at the blue magic markings on his exposed arms.
Whispers buzzed in the corners:
“A demonborn… from the guard units?”
“But… why are his markings blue? Never seen that before…”
Behind the bar, a boar-headed barkeep, tusks jutting toward his own face, silently wiped the counter, unfazed by the awkward silence.
Wo steadied himself and approached.
“Boss, what do you recommend as the local specialty?”
The boar-man paused, bushy brows arching high. “You… aren’t a local-born demon?”
“Just entered the city today!” Wo forced a smile.
“Ohh—an outsider!” The barkeep’s tusks curled into a grin, coldness replaced by warmth. “No wonder your markings look different! Since you’re a guest from afar, you have to try our pride and joy—the Red-Tusk Boar Ribs! Slow-grilled with secret sauce, I swear you won’t taste anything like it anywhere else!”
He slapped his chest, spittle flying in excitement.
This sudden change of attitude made Wo suspicious. Could it be that the reputation of the locals wasn’t too good?
The tavern, which had quieted when Wo entered, grew noisy again after overhearing his exchange with the owner.
Amid the talk of the celebration, another subject emerged:
“…say, think the ‘Plague God’ will cause trouble here?”
“What plague god?”
“Who else? That human who’s been wreaking havoc at the borders these past years!”
“Hah! Him? Not a chance! With the Wolf Marshal, the Vampire Duke, and the Demonborn Commander all here—and His Majesty might appear too! That coward who only sneaks around remote places wouldn’t dare set foot in the Demon King’s City. If he does, perfect chance to finish him!”
…
The meal passed.
The Red-Tusk Boar Ribs weren’t quite the “one and only” the barkeep boasted of, but they were delicious nonetheless. Wo figured it was thanks to the capital’s wide variety of spices.
Leaving the noisy tavern, Wo resumed his search for a bookstore.
But turning into a quiet street corner, two city guards blocked his path.
Their skin bore the same magic markings as Wo’s—but blood-red.
“Hey,” one guard crossed his arms, sneering as he sized Wo up. “Fresh face, huh? Which hole did you crawl out of?”
“Deep Snow Port,” Wo said quietly, not wanting trouble.
“Oh? From that seaside lot?” the other chuckled, suddenly grabbing Wo’s wrist. His rough fingers rubbed against the deep-blue markings. “Hah, this blue… bet it’s Cold Resistance, right? Tsk tsk…”
Wo was about to flatter him for his “sharp eyes” when—
Bang!
A heavy fist slammed into his stomach without warning!
“Ugh—!”
More blows rained down like a storm. Wo staggered back, crashing against a wall, unable to resist.
“Why… why?!” he gasped, blood on his lips.
“Why?!” The guard kicked him hard in the chest, pinning him to the wall. “Still dare to ask? You disgrace to demonborn! Etching such markings—just for trade?!”
Grabbing his collar, the man’s eyes burned with twisted fury. “Because of cowards like you, the demonborn’s name weakens year after year!”
“I… I was born with them…” Wo coughed blood, a bitter smile on his face. “I had no choice…”
He had never thought he’d be beaten for this.
“No choice?” the guard snarled, fist raised again. “Then choose a dignified death! Die and wash away your sin of staining the demonborn name!”
But just as the blow was about to fall, both guards froze.
At the alley mouth stood a cloaked figure, face hidden behind a blank golden mask, only two deep eyes gleaming within.
“What’re you staring at?! Guard business—move along!”
“Creeping around in masks? Suspicious!” the other barked.
But when their eyes met the masked gaze, an icy dread crawled through their bones.
“F-forget it!” The first guard dropped Wo like he’d been burned. His voice cracked as he forced calm. “Festival today… you’re lucky.”
They shot Wo a hateful glare—“next time won’t be so easy”—then fled, almost as if chased by plague.
“Are you alright?” A warm voice asked. A white-gloved hand reached toward Wo.
“Th-thank you!” Wo took it, feeling almost no bones through the silk glove, as if holding a soft, warm cloud.
“Why did they trouble you?” the masked voice carried concern.
Wo raised his bloodied hands, crimson streaks crawling over the deep-blue markings. “Because my markings grant Cold Resistance, not combat skills. To them, it shames ‘the Demon King’s strongest creations’...”
“How narrow-minded.” The masked man shook his head. “Did none ever think perhaps His Majesty gave demonborn limitless possibilities so you might shine in all fields—not just on the battlefield?”
Wo jerked his head up, stunned. He had never heard such words.
The man’s tone stayed calm. “Surprised? You’re from Deep Snow Port, yes? I’ve heard of it. You opened the northern sea route, connecting to the Tabu Continent. Your port thrives because of your work. Is that not honor too?”
“You… you know so much.” Wo’s voice unconsciously became respectful.
The man’s bearing revealed high status beyond doubt. To be acknowledged by such a figure warmed Wo’s heart.
But he sighed. “Sadly, since two years ago, that route has been shrouded in mist. Likely never again open. We had no choice but to seek other paths.”
“Ah… the mist…” The masked man sighed as well, heavy with helplessness.
“Milord! There you are!”
A black-robed figure hurried over—features clearly marking him as a vampire.
“Milord, we’ve been looking everywhere! The festival is about to start!”
“I know, I’m coming.”
Before leaving, the masked man turned back, solemn: “Don’t let their prejudice shake you. Do what you must. Hold firm. I believe…” He paused, tone firm as iron. “His Majesty himself must wish the same.”
Watching that robed back fade into the crowd, Wo couldn’t help but chuckle.
Yet… perhaps this man truly had once heard His Majesty’s teachings firsthand?
One doubt nagged him, though: that vampire wore a pure black robe. Wo vaguely recalled… in their strict hierarchy, only a Duke may wear pure black…
Probably just missed other colors in the cloth…
…
The festival flood filled the square. Wo only secured a remote corner spot.
In the thunderous cheers, he froze—eyes locked on the high platform, on that figure—His Majesty, the Demon King!
Though masked differently, the posture, the aura… it was the same man!
And the Vampire Duke beside him was the very “attendant” from before…
Which meant…
Wo stared at his right hand, trembling. The Demon King himself had lifted him up!
The words His Majesty had spoken burned within, filling him with blazing strength!
Buzz—
A vast magic array lit overhead, amplifying the Demon King’s voice across the city:
“My people!” His once gentle tone now thundered with might. “It has been two hundred years since we shattered our chains and reclaimed our freedom!”
“I saw you claw rubble with bare talons, lifting beams with your tails.
I saw you warm pups with your bodies through the winter, heal comrades with blood and magic.
Two hundred years!
You raised cities from ruin, dug moon wells from desert!
Once, humans lashed our backs, called us beasts!
But now our magic crystal towers light the continent, our forges smelt star-iron!”
“This is not the glory of one race—it is wolf claws, vampire spells, eagle wings, serpent wisdom—every demon’s flesh and bone forging today’s prosperity!”
“And it will not stop at two hundred years!
A hundred more, a thousand more—forever!
Demons eternal!”
“Demon King eternal! Demon King eternal!” Wo roared with the crowd, blood boiling.
He believed—under such a king, eternal glory would come.
The voice continued, proclaiming the empire’s path:
“Once, we defeated the humans, but mercifully only drove them south. Yet they repay kindness with malice, harassing our borders. The empire will now end this. This world has no room for such vermin!”
“Exterminate humans! Exterminate humans!” the mob thundered.
But then—
“What’s that?” a voice cut through, drawing Wo’s gaze upward.
A black speck tore through the clouds, racing down!
“Bird?” someone guessed.
Winged guards took flight, but the speck was too fast.
In a blink, it passed over the city—
Whoosh!
A figure detached, plummeting like a meteor!
Boom!!!
The high platform shattered in an explosion of dust and stone.
When it cleared, a human stood there!
In a heartbeat, the Demonborn Commander flared his markings, the Wolf Marshal grew into a towering beast, the Vampire Duke lunged, fingers like blades—
But before a breath passed, the commander’s magic core shattered, the Wolf Marshal’s chest burst in blood, the Duke’s arm flew into the air!
The intruder casually flicked blood from his sword, sheathed it smoothly, and looked up at the last figure standing—the Demon King.
“You’re the Demon King, right? First time meeting. Name’s Link. I’m a Hero.”
His broken demon tongue echoed across the city through magic amplification.
As if nothing happened, he strolled to the platform edge, peering curiously at the furious demons below.
“Festival, huh? Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to crash it.” He grinned wide, showing white teeth. “I just came to do a little quest.”
“…Quest?” The Demon King’s voice was ice.
“Yeah! Quest!” Link nodded eagerly, fumbling through his ragged backpack. Finally he pulled out a tattered, mouse-chewed parchment.
“Uh-hm! Collection quest: one Demon King’s head. Reward is…” He squinted, shaking the parchment. “…one copper coin!”