The Demon King's Sweet Conquest (GL) - Chapter 15

Chapter 15: The Demon King’s Great Broadcast

Christina’s hands suddenly went empty. Where was Lady Viola?

Dazed, she turned her head, only to see Floria looking equally puzzled.

They should have been complete strangers to each other, but a certain intuition kept reminding Christina: She is friendly; you know each other very well.

Could it be that I am not the only one among the Demon King’s retainers?

The bustling harbor was now left with only three girls: Christina, Floria, and Cynthia. The cargo and transport vehicles had been replaced by more homogeneous boxes. The gray-black canopy smeared a horrific color over the place.

Consciousness slowly returned, and Cynthia pressed her hand against the hilt of her sword: “Don’t panic yet. Lady Viola must be trying to solve this. Come over to my side first.”

Christina obediently lowered her head, though there was no sign of nervousness in her expression. She leaned to Cynthia’s left, scanning the dock with her peripheral vision.

Floria sidled over to the right. This place reminded her of Christina’s strange dream—everything was a dark, crimson hue.

The three of them seemed to have been dragged into the other side of the world by some force. The sky had turned dark red, a gloom that barely allowed one to see a few meters ahead.

The buildings further away were somewhat blurry, vaguely in the same positions and sizes as before.

“Sorry, I suspect this is mostly Duke Francis’s conspiracy; he wishes for me to disappear.” Cynthia’s apologetic gaze made the other two feel a bit guilty.

Has the fact that I am a Demon King’s retainer been discovered? Perhaps this is aimed at me.

Christina’s voice echoed in the depths of Floria’s mind. Floria realized instantly that it was possible Christina, like Heart-Love and Barbatos, had become one of her contracted devils.

This girl still didn’t understand how to properly use mental communication, and accidentally “crossed the lines” with her thoughts.

Are you also related to the Demon King?] Floria deliberately asked this.

Eh?! Could it be that you are also a retainer of the Demon King!

That’s right.

Christina only sent one surprised reply, followed by a hand-waving gesture, as if to say she was too excited to transmit her thoughts, or perhaps that it wasn’t the time for conversation.

“Lily, Christina, do you know each other?” Cynthia’s apology earlier had received no response. She watched the two girls playing charades, feeling a bit confused.

“No, it just feels like we’ve met before. What should we do next?” Christina answered first, giving Cynthia a weak smile.

“Stay here for a moment; I’ll go check the situation.” Cynthia held her sword with both hands, taking a dozen steps to the left and right tentatively, never leaving their field of vision.

The sensation of her feet on the dock felt wrong. It no longer felt like stone or wood; it was more like walking on mud.

Cynthia reached the edge on the right side and smelled a faint scent of blood. Her sword instinctively blocked a probing attack. What the sword sliced through was not human, but a scarlet, long-strip object resembling seaweed.

The strip, failing to hit its target, retracted at maximum speed and disappeared into the cracks of the dock stones.

“Look out!” Cynthia turned back abruptly. She realized something: the two girls on the dock had never received any training and were more likely to be targeted by the monsters than she was!

Sure enough, more red, ribbon-like objects were lunging toward Christina and Floria.

Floria dodged several attacks easily, but Christina was tripped to the ground, and it looked as though she was about to be completely enveloped.

Fortunately, Floria was very close. She grabbed Christina’s wrist and, using strength she didn’t know she had, yanked her out.

The two girls rolled away, evading the first wave of the offensive. The only damage was their skirts being torn into rags.

Cynthia arrived soon after, using her sword to fend off the increasingly dense red monsters: “Quick, let’s leave the pier immediately!” These things were rampaging only in the dock area. Regardless of whether it would be more dangerous outside the perimeter, staying here meant no one would be spared.

Floria and Christina held hands, sprinting one after the other toward the exit of the pier, but unfortunately, they were still a beat too slow. A red flash smashed toward them violently.

It wasn’t the muffled sound of a body being pierced that rang out, but the crisp sound of a blade snapping. Cynthia held her sword to block the strike, but there was no time to adjust the angle of the blade, and the sword body shattered completely.

The monster seemed to understand the situation, knowing that without a sword, humans would be even more fragile. Four red ribbon-like objects lashed out at Cynthia one after another with reaction-defying speed.

Even as she tried her best to dodge, wounds were left on her left cheek and right arm. These were all feints. The real strike was hiding behind Cynthia—every object in this scene could be a mimicry of the monster. This blow struck Cynthia’s spine heavily, and the broken blade hit the ground a step before its owner, making a crisp clink sound.

Cynthia fainted. Christina and Floria, who had no combat awareness, finally had the image of that short battle imprinted in their minds.

If we keep pretending, we’ll both die, won’t we? Perhaps I will too.

Floria didn’t waste any more time. In the split second her consciousness flowed, she spread her wings, revealing the characteristics of the Demon King. Even though she was currently a girl with orange hair, the sharp horns and wings provided a powerful psychological hint to both her and Christina.

Although she was a “Demon King template,” Floria was certain she was only at a single-digit level. After all, besides that gang of bandits, passing beasts, and a certain unlucky person, she had never hurt anyone.

Even so, possessing wings allowed her to do things she couldn’t just a moment ago—like picking Christina up and lifting her off the ground.

Floria grabbed Christina, flapped her wings violently, and briefly escaped the red monster’s attack range. After all, they were just red seaweed strips that couldn’t fly!

I’ll send you to the rooftop first, then I’m going to save Cynthia.

Wait, this power—was it bestowed by the Demon King?!

Christina’s question gave Floria a handy excuse. Claiming that she was a retainer who had received a special bestowal was far better than admitting she was the Demon King.

If she were Christina, she would also prefer that the Demon King she served was stronger and more reliable, right?

That’s right.

Then I should be able to as well!

Before Floria could answer that it was a special gift, Christina spread similar wings and pushed her away gently.

Look, the Demon King bestowed this power upon me too. Christina said with a hint of pride.

Unlike Floria’s visibly “I’ve seen a ghost” expression, on the other side—on the normal, intact dock—the people surrounding the three girls had very heavy expressions.

Leaving aside the village girl and Christina, if Princess Cynthia were to die here, no one would be able to clean up the mess.

Accompanied by a loud crash, half of the dock’s warehouse area collapsed. No one dared to question who would pay for it; after all, the Captain of the Knights of Justice had already stated that the employees inside had evacuated, and if anyone was inside, they were followers of the Demon Lord’s Return Cult.

The “Red Blood” effect in dragon lineage is a tracking of living things. Unless a living object’s strength far exceeds that of the pursuer, it is very difficult to escape a dragon’s tracking.

Viola had a gloomy face as she used her sword to hack through the ruins. The suspicious figure underneath was forced to roll hard, dodging the fatal strike—if he kept playing dead, he’d truly be dead!

“Speak! What evil object did you use!” Not many could escape Viola’s hands. The blade was held against the hooded man’s neck.

The hooded man remained silent; he didn’t even care about the threat to his neck, still capable of moving under the dragon’s pressure. As his legs moved, the blade moved with him.

Viola naturally didn’t slit his throat; the blood line brought out by the blade came from the hooded man’s right leg. In just a few breaths, this guy collapsed in the ruins, unable to stand up straight ever again.

Seeing that he still had no intention of communicating, Viola slashed open his hood directly: the “human” form inside was very strange—he had a nose but no formed eyes, and his mouth was protruding.

These were the characteristics of a Mole-race Beastman.

“Who understands the language of subterranean creatures?” Viola turned back. Her knights all shook their heads. The common language of subterranean creatures was basically only learned by subterranean creatures.

“I understand.” A young merchant raised his hand ingratiatingly.

However, the mole did not give him a chance to make contact; it let out a shriek and then ceased breathing. This was a trigger-style suicide magic. He hadn’t even thought about surviving; remaining here was clearly to create an opportunity for his companions to escape.

However, such a strategy did not work.

Barbatos walked over from the other side of the dock, while Alexia, standing beside her, was holding a broken, unidentified object in her hand. It looked like the egg of some giant bird; the shell was cracked, and the substance inside was semi-solid.

“I encountered a mole on the other side as well; I searched this on the corpse.” Alexia placed the object on the ground.

“This is sacrificial egg-matter.” Viola recognized the object at a glance: “It seems we have been dragged into a sacrificial dream.” After saying this, she didn’t waste any more effort and took a few steps back to Cynthia’s side.

The three fainted girls were laid flat on a blanket. Their expressions were still peaceful.

Viola reached out and gripped Cynthia’s wrist, attempting to force a resonance with the dream through a forced sleep state, but the intrusion process was interrupted by an invisible membrane.

She frowned and let go. Although she knew that these cultist traps were not easy to destroy once set, she didn’t expect that even the path to enter the dream could be blocked.

It was likely that a sacrificial dream and an ordinary dream were two different situations.

“This lady, my mistress was also caught up in this chaos. May I ask you, what exactly happened to her?” Barbatos pushed up her glasses, ignoring the heavy atmosphere.

“It is likely some kind of sacrificial ritual related to a Higher-Level Demon.” Viola poured her anger only onto her enemies. She was very impatient now, explaining things while trying to calm her mood.

If a dragon were extremely enraged, it would easily hurt innocent bystanders.

“The Demon Lord’s Return Cult? Is it an expectation of the Demon King’s return?” No thoughts could be read from Barbatos’s expression. She knelt on one knee and lifted the orange-haired girl into her arms.

“The Demon King died long ago. There might still be remnants of Higher-Level Demons.”

Viola’s words were only half-spoken, because several deep wounds appeared on Cynthia’s body. Amidst the exclamations of the surrounding people, blood stained the white fur.

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