The Demon King's Sweet Conquest (GL) - Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Fear Not

Vincent stood in the basement, carefully stroking a roll of parchment. This was a genuine artifact he had purchased for a fortune from a mysterious merchant; he felt a sharp sting as his fingers brushed across it.

Based on his years of experience in antiquarian research, he could swear it was real! It was a special scroll from the era before the Demon King was sealed, used to contact those in the Demon Realm.

Unfortunately, he was likely not the “destined one” mentioned in the ancient texts. No matter how many times he tried or offered sacrifices, there was no response. Even when he entangled himself with the lunatics of the “Church of the Demon Lord’s Return” to exploit one another, no one had truly succeeded.

“Vincent, don’t you think you need to explain something to me?” The clear, bright voice made Vincent jump. It sounded like Miss Floria?

As he turned, he clicked the ring on his finger, releasing a horizontal cutting line toward the source of the voice.

The line was caught by a single finger—a finger belonging to a devil, with pale skin and blood-red nails.

Vincent’s pupils constricted violently. He saw a true devil!

“To be so insolent before Her Highness… arrogant dross.” The crimson-eyed devil hooked the cutting line and flicked it; the rebounding line split Vincent’s left ear into two pieces.

His scream was also imprisoned. His wide-open mouth gasped like a fish dying of thirst, unable to make a single sound.

“Barbatos, it’s hard to talk to humans when they are in extreme pain.” Floria waved her hand. When she entered, she had seen this man’s “collection,” and she couldn’t summon a shred of sympathy.

“Rest assured, Highness, he won’t want it to hurt any more. Nod if you hear me.” As soon as Barbatos finished speaking, the creature on the floor closed its mouth and nodded frantically.

The silence spell was lifted, but Vincent didn’t dare call for help. Having seen the demonic traits of the two “people” and knowing much about devil lore, he had completely lost the will to fight.

“Confess. This is your last chance, Vincent.” The Demon King’s voice carried the charm of a young girl and the coldness of a demon. Vincent trembled.

He knew this was absolutely not Miss Floria, but… a devil from the Abyss! Perhaps, the “Returned Sovereign.”

Overwhelmed by his own delusions, he prostrated himself on the ground: “Highness… I am your loyal servant! I want to be your loyal servant now!”

Before today, this was naturally a lie. He believed in the existence of devils, but he only wanted to use their power to gain rank and wealth, building his own kingdom in this chaotic world.

“The Demon King is long dead; making money is more practical. Besides, devils are in the Abyss and can’t climb out anyway.”

Such thoughts were shattered by the reality before him. He only wanted to live. Only by living could he obtain everything he desired.

“Highness, his submissiveness is genuine. Should we keep him for now as a pawn?”

“No. His value, from soul to flesh, is not worth mentioning.”

“You are absolutely right.”

Since becoming a demon, Floria had changed somewhat. However, she still loathed those who harmed the innocent to the extreme. Even knowing that keeping this scum alive could help her blend into this world and accomplish more, she didn’t want him to see tomorrow’s sun.

If only for the sake of the vengeful spirits lingering on those skeletons.

“You’re not answering the question.” The arrogant Demon King looked down on Vincent out of the corner of her eye.

“I’ll confess! I’ll confess right now—” Fearing the Demon King would lift a finger to bring death upon him, Vincent didn’t know what to confess, so he simply began to brag about his “achievements.”

“I truly didn’t know your current identity before, which is why I dared refuse your request! Every ‘Demon Lord Resurrection Day,’ I sacrifice pure young boys and girls! To bring about your resurrection sooner, I’ve tried many ways! Everything is in those notebooks—”

Before he could finish, he collapsed to the floor, wearing a mask of a fake smile even in death.

“Barbatos, extract his memories. I’m too lazy to listen to a failure’s explanations.” A weary Floria withdrew her finger, ignoring the system notification about the upgrade of her Death Decree.

“Yes.” Barbatos reached out, trapping a wisp of something invisible in her palm.

For dross like him, there would be no guide waiting for his soul; trapping it was very easy.

“Highness, your mood seems poor? If possible, I hope to share your burdens.” After storing Vincent’s soul, Barbatos was in no hurry to share his memories with Floria.

Floria didn’t deny it: “Bloodshed, slaughter, terror… it’s all so hollow, Barbatos. So hollow.”

“Highness? We seem to have used bloody means to silence him forever.” Barbatos pushed up her glasses, her expression unreadable.

“It’s different. His weakness came from these things.” Floria was very serious. She spread her hands, gesturing to the basement.

“He was indeed too weak, lacking the intelligence and charisma to successfully utilize what he obtained.” Barbatos could see there were both genuine and fake artifacts inside. There are levels to evil; Vincent was the lowest of the low, which is why he died in a cramped basement, unable to even control a single city properly, let alone a country. He had only a few subordinates who could be called confidants; it was pathetic.

“He never understood what true strength is.”

“What is true strength, Highness?” Interest surged in the blood-red eyes.

Barbatos’s anomaly was slight, but Floria caught the signal of danger immediately. She didn’t move; Barbatos was far more dangerous than the dross. She would never trust a devil 100%, never.

However, since Barbatos hadn’t turned against her, as the Demon King, she couldn’t act on mere suspicion.

“Seeking power from the heart and soul.” Floria gave a vague answer, because—how should I know the answer?! If I knew the path to becoming the strongest, I would have sprinted down it myself.

“Highness, how… will you prove that?” Words filled with a lingering, ambiguous affection were whispered in her ear. A strand of hair brushed her face; it was itchy.

Floria’s eyes couldn’t catch Barbatos’s approaching footsteps at all. This was an absolute gap in strength.

Floria clenched her fist, raised her arm, and punched straight out.

At the last second, she opened her fist and stood on her tiptoes. Barbatos, with a strange telepathy, knelt slightly.

The Demon King pressed her palm onto the devil’s shoulder: “Just continue to follow me. I will surely show you everything you won’t see anywhere else.”

Before Barbatos could respond, Floria, feeling awkward herself, hurriedly withdrew her hand: “Alright, alright. This King is bored to death by repetitive things. The items left by that waste are somewhat interesting.”

She pointed to the parchment on the table. Vincent had been tinkering with it just now; it was clearly valuable. If she could exchange it for a large number of points and just dig the dungeon all the way here, that would be great!

“Highness, this is a linked document used for communication between demons. The style is too old; it’s obsolete technology at the Company.”

“A native Demon King exists in this world?” Floria cared about this most; a peer meant competition. She couldn’t guarantee that other Demon Kings would understand the value of love and justice.

“There are legends. In the legends, they were killed by a Hero, and most ruins have been fully explored.” Barbatos was concise.

“Ha… whether it’s rumor or history, this King is the one and only Demon King!” As Floria spoke, she took the parchment from Barbatos’s hand and unfolded it, wanting to see what was drawn inside.

The moment it was torn open, her consciousness was pulled into another layer of awareness. Barbatos gently caught the falling Demon King, helping her hold the parchment as if nothing unusual had happened.

Christina was falling through a crimson sleep. It was always like this, it would always be like this.

“Monster.”

“You must be a half-demon! Human scum!”

“Why were you even born? A waste of food?”

It was always like this, even in her dreams. The cruel words she had heard were no longer sharp enough to pierce her hardened heart.

Only one person—only one person was special. Those… golden eyes, more beautiful than gems.

“I want to hold her in my hands. Whether it’s her eyes, her heart, or anything else, I want…”

“I want to… hold my Knight.”

Yes, a Knight. It was a chess piece representing a knight. Viola had countless titles; she was a princess, a general, a lord. But in [my] heart, she should be [my Knight] who belongs [only to me].

What color were human dreams supposed to be?

Christina had gathered information about dreams from others. They said dreams were colorful, responding to dreams or unattainable wishes.

But there was nothing in her dream; she couldn’t even sense she was sleeping. she would only fall continuously, falling toward a bottomless abyss.

Perhaps I really am a kin of the Demon Race… if the Demon King truly existed, the legendary omnipotent, super-powerful Demon King, could you… grant me a dream? Grant me… [my Knight]?

“Are you alright? Why are you falling?”

“Can’t you tell? I can’t control it. This is a dream… eh?” She opened her eyes. The surroundings were still blood-red, but just now, had someone else’s voice actually appeared?

“Unable to control? This place is a bit too monotonous.” As the second question fell, a hand caught her as she was falling.

Then, as the hands appeared, brilliant flowers began to grow. They were so boisterously beautiful that they covered the blood-colored world. Under the unreasonable spread of the flowers, the sky turned blue, and Christina’s feet landed on the grass. Looking up, there was a rainbow made of blossoms.

The fall stopped.

Holding her hands was a strange… demon girl. She had the legendary horns, the legendary wings, and the legendary tail.

And something not found in legends… eyes without a ripple.

No one had ever told her, no one had ever recorded in books, that in the eyes of a demon, one could not see pity, scrutiny, or loathing.

“Are you… the Demon King?” Christina slowly knelt, feeling the softness of the grass.

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