The Demon King’s Precious Little Angel - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The First Meeting of Seroa and Deloville

The Forest of Withered Wood was the most desolate place in the Demon Realm, yet as the summer tidings approached, it began to stir with signs of life.

Demonic beasts hunted their prey ferociously to prepare for the breeding season. The cubs born the previous year had been weaned and were now embarking on their first hunts. Consequently, rustling sounds constantly echoed through the wildly growing toxic thickets. Occasionally, the tip of a tail would waggle among the leaves—some careless little fellow failing to hide properly.

Seroa was among them. Though he did not belong to the Demon Realm, the weak have never had the luxury of choice.

He sat on the ground with his hands encircling his knees and his chin resting atop them. He pursed his lips, observing his surroundings through the half-long strands of hair that slid down his face. The hair veiled his eyes, only revealing glimpses of a pale color rare in the Demon Realm—a rippling blue cleaner than the purest waters of the abyss.

Directly ahead, two young beasts who had just left their parents were fighting. Since it was the season for heavy shedding, the fight between the two fluffy creatures looked more like play. No matter how fiercely they snapped at each other, they only ended up with mouthfuls of fur, leaving fluff drifting through the air like snow.

It looked ridiculous, even clumsily cute. No one would guess these were high-level demonic beasts capable of swallowing a human in a single bite.

Seroa dared not move. He held his breath as several stray tufts of fur floated just centimeters from his nose.

Please don’t come over here, he prayed silently.

But fate was contrary. A stray tuft of fur danced on the wind and landed directly on his face. The soft down brushed against the tip of his nose, bringing a maddening itch.

Seroa opened his mouth and sucked in several deep breaths.

“A—a—achoo!”

Silence. The very air seemed to turn cold in an instant.

Seroa instinctively closed his eyes and buried his head in his arms, trying his best to pretend he was a mushroom. He hoped that by staying still, he could avoid harm. But demonic beasts were no fools. A moment later, a warm breath puffed against his cheek.

He pressed his lips thin, silently waiting for the pain to strike.

“Mwu~” A warm, wet sensation suddenly touched his cheek. The smell of raw milk spread from the spot where he was being licked.

Seroa shivered, his nose wrinkling. He slowly, hesitantly opened his eyes.

Two pairs of clear, bright yellow eyes were staring at him. Their depths held nothing but pure curiosity, though their exposed fangs proved they were not as harmless as they looked.

Seroa clenched his hands uncontrollably. The sharp, broken stalks of grass on the ground easily sliced into his delicate skin, but the pain was nothing compared to the terror in his heart. He could clearly hear his heart thumping violently. He opened his mouth to call for help, but not a single word came out.

The two little beasts, however, didn’t have such complicated thoughts. They were young and innocent. Seeing a strange, weak creature appear before them, their first instinct wasn’t to attack, but to wag their tails in a friendly manner.

“Who are you? Why do you look different from us?”

Seroa trembled. The forest nights were always cold, and the chilly wind gusting into his collar stripped away his body heat.

“Your hand looks very pretty. Can I eat it?” The beast that had fought more fiercely earlier nudged closer. It was tall and lean with smooth, powerful muscles. Its damp nose pressed heavily against Seroa’s small hand on the ground. A milky scent wafted into its nose, sparking a sudden appetite.

Saliva dripped onto the back of Seroa’s hand.

Seroa nearly cried out. Summoning his courage, he raised his hand and pressed it against the beast’s dripping mouth. The wet, sticky fluid coated his entire palm, and he felt the faint graze of sharp teeth.

He bargained in a small voice: “I’m so small right now, I don’t have any meat at all. Why don’t you raise me for a while before eating me?”

The beast buried its head in Seroa’s chest and sniffed, let out a satisfied, whining hum from its throat. Its thick fur provided a long-lost warmth that offered a strange comfort in that moment.

Seroa felt the killing intent vanish. His tense body slowly relaxed, and a hazy thought surfaced.

Maybe the Demon Realm isn’t as terrifying as I thought.

He blinked tiredly, a physiological tear clinging to his lashes. Before it could fall, it was licked away by the beast’s rough tongue.

“I’m a little sleepy,” Seroa whispered into the beast’s ear. As his breath hit its ear, the beast jerked back two steps and shook its head, its ears twitching. However, it did not leave. Instead, it lay down not far from Seroa, silently responding to his plea for protection.

Seroa’s heart finally settled. He curled up, leaning against a tree, and drifted off to sleep in the dry wind.

But the dangers of the forest were far greater than Seroa imagined. Before he had slept long, he was jolted awake by a loud crash. A bloody, unidentifiable mass streaked past him like a bolt of lightning, the thick stench of gore making him gag.

Though dust filled the air, Seroa saw everything clearly. The two beasts that had been lively moments ago were now beaten to the brink of death by a massive monster. One was covered in blood, lying motionless on the ground, its life or death unknown. The other was still standing, but half its head was a bloody mess with white bone exposed. Its left front leg was gone, leaving only a raw, fleshy stump.

Dazed and frantic, Seroa turned his head. On the ground nearby, he saw a starkly white, gleaming leg bone.

The monster that had appeared out of nowhere was chewing. Bits of meat mixed with saliva fell to the ground, and the lush grass instantly hissed and melted, leaving only scorched earth.

Seroa retreated instinctively as information about the monster flashed in his mind:

Scavenger Beast: A product of demonic beasts contaminated by the chaotic aura of the Abyss. Lacks rational thought; bloodthirsty; feeds only on the flesh of living beings. Saliva causes fresh meat to rot but does not consume white bone. Its saliva is extremely toxic—touching it results in death. This creature is extremely dangerous.

At that moment, the beast that had been struggling finally collapsed. Its fur began to vanish and its flesh rotted at a visible speed, emitting a nauseating stench. To the Scavenger Beast, however, it was a delicacy. It lunged at the fallen beast to feast. The beast hadn’t fully lost consciousness; though in agony, it could only emit a faint, nearly inaudible moan.

Seroa felt a tightness in his chest. But reality gave him no time for grief. Once the beast was dead, the Scavenger’s next target was him.

He clenched his fists and, under the Scavenger’s watchful glare, turned and ran deep into the forest.

The wind scraped past his ears, bringing stings of pain. His underdeveloped body couldn’t handle such intense exertion, and he was soon aching all over. Seroa forced himself to control his breathing; despite his exhaustion and the throbbing in his limbs, he dared not stop for a second.

The surroundings grew unnervingly quiet. Not even the breath of a living thing could be felt. As he took another step, he suddenly sensed something. He stiffened, his foot slipped, and he tumbled to the ground, the impact shooting pain through his tailbone.

Before he could scramble up, the withered grass ahead rustled. The Scavenger Beast he thought he had lost poked its head out, its crimson eyes fixed intently on him. Seroa shivered. He understood the emotion in those eyes—unmasked hunger.

Is there really no way out? Seroa’s mind went blank for a second, but his body acted on its own. The moment the Scavenger pounced, he threw the only life-saving weapon the Angels had “charitably” given him.

It was a magical artifact containing the power of an Angel. But Seroa didn’t count on it saving his life. After all, he was an outcast of the Heavenly Realm; he should be grateful just to have a weapon like everyone else, rather than asking for more from it.

He scrambled backward in desperation.

The weapon struck the Scavenger, flickered feebly once, and then went dark. The Scavenger roared and shook its head. It lifted a paw and crushed the artifact into powder upon landing. Seroa didn’t know if it was his imagination, but he seemed to see a flash of mockery in the eyes of this supposedly mindless monster.

The weapon was a useless decoration. Seroa felt as if he had fallen into an ice cellar. He trembled uncontrollably. Even with his worst assumptions about the Angels, he hadn’t expected them to truly leave him no path to survival.

The Scavenger was still closing in. Seroa gritted his teeth and prepared to run again. He didn’t want to die; even if the chance was slim, he wanted to fight.

Suddenly, his foot hit empty air. He lost his balance and plummeted down a steep slope.

The Scavenger’s pounce missed. Letting out an unwilling, muffled roar, it leapt into the air, clearly having no intention of giving up as it easily pursued the falling boy.

Seroa was in agony. The rugged ground left a network of fine cuts on his body, each seeping blood. His head hit various objects, leaving him bruised and dizzy.

After rolling for what felt like forever, Seroa slammed into a hard object. His waist hit it with a resounding thud, and the sheer discomfort made his head spin.

A black hem embroidered with magnificent gold patterns drifted near his cheek. Seroa forced himself to lift a hand, clutching the fabric. His voice was a faint, barely audible plea: “Please… save me.”

The man’s movement to pull his robe away paused.

Seroa’s strength failed him completely, and his palm fell limply to the ground.

He saw the man draw an ordinary iron sword and give a casual swing.

Thousands of red lights flashed. Time seemed to freeze at that moment, and all colors faded beneath the brilliance of the sword-light.

The Scavenger Beast, which had been an insurmountable force just moments ago, had no power to resist this light. As a gust of wind blew past, its massive body dissolved into a pile of ash.

As Seroa slipped into total unconsciousness, he vaguely heard the man speak. His voice was cold and carried a hint of mockery.

“Useless.”