I will be a demon in this life!-Chapter 239

Prince Absab did not hesitate to recount what happened on the night he made the demonic pact.

The commanders remained silent, some of them conflicted with their emotions, others simply accepting it without further comment.

"Your Majesty, I would do it again if I had the chance. Because that is the only way I have been able to protect my kingdom, my family, and my people. Besides, it was the imperialists who started this war. If I add to that what we discovered in Commander Eljam’s tent, what reason did we have to doubt?"

King Sitión sat in a large chair in front of the wooden table on which a map of the surrounding territory was spread out.

"Commanders, withdraw. It is time to speak with the soldiers and guide them."

The commanders nodded as they listened to the king’s words.

"Son, wait," King Sition stopped Prince Absab.

"Father," Absab looked at his father.

"I know you are not naive. I can’t really question you. If you hadn’t done what you did, we would be lost, although I would have preferred to be the one to bear that burden. We don’t know how trustworthy that demon is, but what you mustn’t forget is that you defeated the empire. Imperial auxiliary army or not, they will not give up. Do you understand?"

Prince Absab nodded and said:

"If the Venrac empire wishes to continue the war, I will be prepared for it."

King Sition Brooks nodded and then watched as his son left the military tent.

...

As the sun was about to set, in a clearing far from the battlefield where the Presial kingdom had been victorious and far from the cities of the empire, a simple, small stone shelter stood in the middle of nowhere.

The Crackler, with his black mask and blood-red hair, entered the shelter and bowed solemnly, after which he remained silent. He had no more words than those he had already used to report what had happened on the battlefield.

Facing the Crackler, sitting on a cylindrical rock with his hands resting on a magic staff that looked more like an old branch than a walking stick, Samsart Detali opened his eyes and said in his elderly voice:

"Inform Van Mitther that he must stop his current experiments for the time being, at least until this situation is resolved."

"As you command," the Crackler waited silently.

"That’s all, you did what you had to do, you may leave."

"I appreciate your words, Your Excellency," the Crackler left the stone shelter.

Now that he was alone, Samsart struck the ground with the base of his staff and the shelter turned to dust. Samsart looked around; his magical perception sensed nothing, but his intuition, a kind of survival instinct, was alert. He had already heard from his master that he should not ignore his intuition, because intuition sometimes went beyond any kind of perception.

Mephistopheles, who was among the clouds in the sky, silently observed Samsart. He had recognized Samsart’s energy as one of the sources of energy of the subjects who stood beside the man who projected that powerful tower.

"Demon, I know you’re here. Why don’t you show yourself?" Samsart looked up at the sky. He didn’t know where the demon was, but he thought the sky was a possibility.

Mephistopheles knew he hadn’t been detected. At that moment, he held between his fingers a strand of blood-red hair that he had pulled from the Crackling One without him noticing.

"You seem to be an important member of that group that plays with demons. The magic staff in your hands is very powerful. It would be useful to obtain that staff. With my knowledge and control of demonic energy, I can turn it into a demonic staff. But..."

[Sleeper’s Command]

The magic staff Samsart held reacted, creating a wave of mana that dispersed the sleeper’s command.

"I knew it wouldn’t be so easy to take one of them down," Mephistopheles extended his "perception of all things" in that cleared area and failed to sense any enemies or threats nearby.

"It seems there is a demon in the vicinity," thought Samsart as he tried to sharpen his magical perception even further, but he still could not sense the demon.

Samsart struck the ground with the base of his staff, and irregular platforms of earth rose from the ground for Samsart to use as steps as he ascended to the heights.

When Samsart was close to the clouds, most of them disappeared, leaving only one cloud on which Mephistopheles was sitting.

"Demon," Samsart muttered, but he knew that the demon in front of him was not something he could face without sacrificing his mana core and using the potential of his staff.

Mephistopheles smiled sinisterly and said:

"Hehehe. I am the demon god of prosperity and misery."

Samsart had no way to refute the demon’s words; the demon was as indecipherable as his master Lenard Trismegistus, if not more so.

"Why? Why now?" asked Samsart.

With a malicious voice, Mephistopheles replied:

"Heh heh heh. Because where there is misery, prosperity will arise, and where there is prosperity, misery will arise."

"You mean the Empire. Do you want to destroy it?" Samsart continued to inquire.

Mephistopheles laughed and said:

"You want to get information for free. Heh heh heh. You are a cunning old man."

Samsart remained silent and clutched his staff with his old, wrinkled hands. He was ready to fight, even though he didn’t stand much of a chance.

The silence stretched on. Samsart waited, while Mephistopheles simply watched him.

"I see no reason to let him live. That magic staff alone is reason enough to kill him," thought Mephistopheles.

Samsart knew it. His increasingly alert intuition told him that death was near.

Samsart was about to stir, but before he could burn his mana core, he saw a bright sphere of sinister compressed energy.

It was an enhanced and more powerful form of the "demonic star."

"Hehehe. What do you think will happen when this sphere explodes?" said Mephistopheles.

"Demon!" Samsart refused to negotiate with the demon.

Mephistopheles was curious about the extent of the power of the demonic spell he had perfected.

Explosion! 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

A scorching and destructive power spread like a shockwave that swept away everything and shook the empire and the nearby kingdoms. A destructive power that wiped out several human cities in an instant, leaving no trace behind. Thousands upon thousands of people disappeared.

The ground was charred and cracked. Mephistopheles had used several demonic barriers of the highest rank to resist the power he had unleashed, but even so, the surface of his body was burned.

With his horns and body burned and smoking, Mephistopheles walked over to where the charred bones of Samsart lay. Samsart had barely had time to burn his mana core, but had not had time to defend himself from the destructive attack.

Mephistopheles picked up the magic staff, which remained intact.

"It is truly a valuable object," he said. The moment he picked up the staff, in which he detected no external magic or bond, Mephistopheles felt a powerful energy manifesting nearby.

"The man from the tower," murmured Mephistopheles, who quickly moved away as fast as he could, because he did not yet want to face Lenard Trismegisto, as he did not know if he could defeat him and did not want to risk that human being able to recognize him.

...

"Samsart," murmured the handsome man with the silver mask partially covering his face, his white hair with black streaks blowing in the wind. After a pause, he also murmured:

"Mephistopheles."