Demon King After the End-Chapter 16: Going out

Leon pushed open the large stone doors and stepped into the dim-lit conference room. The cold air hit his face, the scent of old stone and ink lingering in the space. A long oval table sat in the center, surrounded by his ten remaining retainers.

Zorath was in the middle of a sentence when he looked up, instantly going silent.

One by one, the others followed suit, eyes turning to Leon.

"So," Leon began casually, walking forward with his hands in his pockets, "what are you guys mulling over?"

The air was thick. No one moved. The earlier events of the morning clearly hadn't faded from memory.

Zorath's jaw tightened. "Nothing of your concern, Your Highness."

Leon's eyes narrowed, but his voice remained calm. "What do you mean? I'm the lord now. Anything related to demonkind is my concern."

Zorath didn't answer immediately, but Sylviana leaned back in her chair, arms folded. "So you're taking that seriously now? I thought you were against being crowned just yesterday." Her voice was smooth, teasing—yet edged with something sharper.

"That's none of your concern," he said, his voice flat.

He looked around the table, meeting every gaze. "But let me make one thing clear. From now on, no major decisions get made unless I sign off. I'm done playing the background."

A beat of silence.

The room went still.

Then came the sound of a heavy fist slamming against stone.

Gorran, the broad-shouldered minotaur, stood. His eyes blazed with fury. "Now we have to take orders from a kid who hasn't even seen real battle?! Who's lived a life of luxury while the rest of us bled?!"

"Gorran," Zorath said sharply, "that's the lord you're speaking to."

"What lord?!" Gorran roared. "He's nothing but a wuss. A lucky bloodline. Any of the other children of the Demon King would have been a better choice than this."

The room fell silent. An eerie, oppressive quiet.

No one breathed.

Leon didn't flinch. His eyes slowly turned toward Gorran. The smile that formed on his lips was cold. "Is that so?"

Gorran's nostrils flared, but he didn't back down.

Leon stood up slowly, pushing his chair back with a light scrape. "You know, you're right about one thing," he said as he stepped around the table, walking toward Gorran. "I was just a pampered prince."

He stopped a few feet in front of the minotaur.

"But that Leon is gone. I have changed. You're standing in front of someone else now."

His eyes locked on Gorran, and his tone turned sharp. "Then listen, you oversized meathead."

Gorran's jaw clenched.

"I don't care what could have been better. I don't care if you respect me. Hell, I don't even care if you like me. But I am the one you're stuck with now. And I'm not the weakling you used to know."

Leon stepped forward slightly, his voice growing firmer.

"I'm not asking for your loyalty. I'm demanding obedience. My word is law. Disobey it, and I'll bury you myself."

As he spoke, an immense pressure filled the room. His [Royal Demon's Presence] flared to life, heavier than before. The air grew thick, almost suffocating. Chairs creaked under the strain. A few of the weaker retainers gritted their teeth, beads of sweat rolling down their faces. Even Zorath had to brace himself.

All except one.

Elvera.

The dark elf sat calmly at the far end of the table, her fingers laced together, expression neutral. Her dark purple eyes stared directly at Leon, unfazed.

Leon noticed.

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Just like in the morning... not even a twitch.

'Why isn't the skill working on her?' he asked mentally.

He pinged the system in his mind. 'Is the skill malfunctioning?'

[Negative. The skill functions perfectly. She's simply not a demon. Elves are beings of nature. Demon bloodline pressure has no sway over them.]

'Tch... I assumed dark elves were a demon subrace.' Leon frowned slightly, watching her expressionless face. 'Guess I was wrong. But that raises another question... why is she here? Why is an elf part of the top brass of demonkind?'

[That you'll need to figure out on your own.]

Leon held her gaze a second longer before releasing his aura. The pressure vanished instantly.

Everyone in the room exhaled—some collapsing back into their seats, others wiping sweat from their foreheads.

He sat down again, back straight, voice firm. "Now that we understand each other, let's get to business. I don't care if you hate me. I only care that you follow my orders. Unconditionally."

No one dared speak.

Even Gorran stayed quiet, jaw clenched and eyes averted.

Only Elvera kept her usual silence, watching Leon closely.

Leon's eyes moved across the table. "Any more complaints?"

Silence.

"Good. Then let's move on."

He turned to Zorath. "Status update. Start with food."

Zorath cleared his throat, pushing forward a few sheets of parchment. "We're running dangerously low on preserved supplies. If we don't figure out food production soon, we'll run out in less than two weeks."

Sylviana sighed, arms crossed, her usual smirk nowhere to be seen. "Hunting is a gamble. The beasts left in this wasteland are either too scarce or too aggressive. We've lost more men than we've fed."

She paused, then added grimly, "As for farming—this land is dead. Nothing grows here. Not even weeds. Our people are starving, your highness. Some... have started eating the corpses of the fallen."

Leon leaned back in his seat, fingers steepled under his chin. "So, we're cornered."

Zorath gave a single nod. "That's the reality. Unless you've got a miracle hidden somewhere."

Leon's lips curled into a small smile. "Actually... I do."

He paused, expecting groans or scoffs—something. Instead, the room stayed silent. No raised eyebrows. No sarcasm. Just tired eyes and blank faces.

They thought he was just talking nonsense.

Leon's smile faded. "Seriously? That's all I get? No questions, no disbelief, not even a snort?"

Silence.

He clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Figures. You all think I'm just blowing smoke."

He stood, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. That got their attention.

"I'm heading out," he said flatly, moving toward the door.

Zorath frowned. "Out? Where?"

"To the wasteland," Leon replied, not slowing down. "I need to see what it's like out there. I won't rule from a throne without knowing how deep the rot runs."

"There's no need for that," Zorath said quickly. "Conditions are brutal. You've only just stabilized things here. Why put yourself at risk?"

Leon stopped at the threshold and glanced over his shoulder. "Because nothing's going to change if I sit on my ass in here playing lord. You all say the land is dead? Well, maybe I've got something that'll change that."

"A miracle, right?" Sylviana said dryly, arms folded. "Still sticking to that line?"

"You'll see," Leon said simply. "Soon enough."

Zorath sighed. "At least take someone with you."

"I planned to," Leon said, scanning the room. His eyes settled on the quiet figure at the end of the table.

"Elvera," he said. "You're coming with me."

The dark elf stood up without hesitation. Her face was unreadable, as always, but she walked over and took her place behind him.

Leon gave a nod and pulled his hood over his head. Elvera mirrored him.

As they exited the war room, Leon muttered under his breath, "Cold as ever... What's your deal, really?"

But she said nothing, silent as a shadow.