Inside the Demon King's Hall, whose vaulted ceiling was carved with celestial patterns, Melogas, the Lord of Blasphemy, looked at the princess on the throne with a gratified expression.
Very good.
Her Highness's reaction was exactly right.
Only a weak little girl like this could be kept firmly within her grasp.
Melogas stopped staring at Hyperion and swept her gaze over the floor below, deterring the other demons from daring to look at her and the princess any longer.
The Throne Room grew increasingly quiet.
After that, aside from the turning of the pendulum's gears, no further words were exchanged between the two.
The demons present practically had to watch the Lord of Blasphemy's every expression.
Just a moment ago, the Ice Snow Witch had wanted to speak, but she was quickly halted by a meaningful glance from Pranay.
They were not the only four great demons in the Throne Room.
The four of them had most likely replaced the confidants of the Demon Realm princess in this era, while the other great demons were very likely neutral or leaning toward the Lord of Blasphemy.
Without a clear grasp of where the other great demons stood, it was best not to provoke this dreadfully powerful Lord of Blasphemy.
Observing and understanding the Demon Realm's current situation was the optimal choice for now.
A single misstep would spell failure for Quest Objective 3, which required everyone to survive.
On the other side of the seating below, Antanas sighed inwardly.
Knowing Hyperion well, she naturally understood that Hyperion's acting had reached the pinnacle of perfection. Whether it was her current fear or her earlier tears, they were as genuine as could be, and the Lord of Blasphemy was gradually letting down her guard against her.
Hyperion had always been a sentimental girl from the very beginning; after her father went missing, she would weep alone, and the grief she felt the moment she heard of Caliera's death was beyond words.
Spending so much time around Lanqi had taught her that her best playstyle was to choose a safe, steady strategy to stay alive, avoid setting any dangerous rhythms, and wait to rendezvous with Lanqi and coordinate with him to secure a certain victory.
And in the worldline foretold by the Goddess of Fate, when Hyperion faced an irresistible enemy, she had virtually no power to resist and died very quickly.
All of this had taught Hyperion how to win the game.
The optimal solution was definitely to wait for Lanqi, the master cheat, to handle the battle, rather than attempting any flashy maneuvers herself.
Thus, her card decks had gradually shifted from offensive to defensive, and she had mastered the art of survival by feigning weakness to deceive her enemies.
Yet naturally, some people would fail to see through this, even sighing that Hyperion was a useless princess.
Upon the throne.
"..."
Hyperion wiped away her tears on her own.
Seeing that Teacher Ice Snow Witch and Pranay had reached a mutual consensus to wait and watch, Hyperion felt relieved.
Antanas and Sinora always took their cues from Pranay, while the Ice Snow Witch had a more rigid and methodical temperament.
Her teacher could not defeat the Lord of Blasphemy. Leaving aside the fact that the Lord of Blasphemy was at least on par with a Cardinal, her status as a Sixth-Seal quasi-king granted her a potent advantage against other great demons. Even if the four of them attacked together, it would be exceptionally dangerous.
Furthermore, there were likely many great demons in the Throne Room who supported the Lord of Blasphemy.
Though rage burned in Hyperion's heart—knowing that the Lord of Blasphemy had usurped Caliera's fruits of victory to ascend to the position of Regent—she knew full well that only by appearing weak and helpless could she earn Melogas's trust.
Quest Objective 1 reminded her to protect the small spark left behind by Caliera.
Until she found clues to that spark, she would make no reckless moves.
"It seems time is just about up."
Melogas, the Lord of Blasphemy, now looked down upon the entire Throne Room in her capacity as Regent.
She was tall and slender, her black robes outlining her alluring curves while exuding a chilling, murderous aura. Her hazy violet eyes flashed with an intimidating, soul-shaking sharpness.
The corners of Melogas's lips curved slightly into a profound smile.
The moment the chimes rang, she gave an elegant wave of her hand. Purple flames danced at her fingertips, and a terrifying wail instantly echoed throughout the Throne Room as ghostly phantoms surged, sealing off the exits.
Many demons involuntarily shuddered and lowered their heads even further.
"Everyone, I have gathered you all here today merely to announce an important piece of news—one that concerns the future transformation of our Demon Realm."
Melogas looked around, her gaze sweeping over every demon present, sharp and icy as a blade.
"I believe many of you have already guessed it."
She spoke slowly, her voice pleasant and melodious, yet carrying an unquestionable majesty.
"..."
Silence reigned below. Not a single demon dared to voice a reply.
"That is right. Caliera of the Fall has passed. From this day forward, there is no longer a Lord of the Fallen in the Demon Realm. And I, the Lord of Blasphemy, shall take up Caliera's great mantle, continuing to support Her Highness the Princess in governing the Demon Realm and restoring its glory in this coming golden age."
Melogas sneered and continued, "In Caliera's era, we were forced to sign the North-South Treaty with the Blood Clan—a monumental humiliation in the history of the demon race—and she nearly lost the princess. But I am different. Under my leadership, both the Horning Empire and the Blood Clan have been driven back to the south. This means we possessed the strength to become the overlords of this world all along; it was merely Caliera's incompetence that led to the world order we see today."
As she spoke, she glanced sideways, watching Hyperion's expression.
"Melogas, you've gone too far! You shouldn't—"
Finally, an elderly demon below slammed his seat and rose, rebuking Melogas's claims.
Before he could fully stand, a thread-like strand of mana pierced through his body, and he exploded with a crash. Nothing remained but blood scattering through the air like mist and rain, brushing across the horrified faces of the surrounding demons and spattering them with gore.
The end of that mana thread was held in Melogas's grasp.
Melogas acted as though she had not even seen the remains, casually withdrawing her raised fingertip and letting the mana disperse.
Silence descended upon the hall once more.
Even demons who knew the truth were filled with fury they dared not voice.
The trusted great demons of Caliera's faction had either died or been crippled during the grueling battles of the past twelve years; nearly all those who could fight had perished.
Meanwhile, Melogas had spent the war forming factions for self-preservation, and now she reigned supreme.
"I accidentally overheard a demon spouting nonsense just now. I trust no one will interrupt me moving forward?"
Melogas, the Lord of Blasphemy, cupped a hand to her ear, tilting her head to listen to the room below.
This time, not a single demon spoke.
Only then did she prepare to continue.
"However..."
Her tone shifted, turning abruptly chilling.
"However, if Her Highness the Princess still clings to old sentiments and wishes to govern the Demon Realm according to the policies Caliera left behind, our great undertaking will come to naught. Tell me, everyone—what am I to do about that?"
Melogas's words exploded in the Throne Room like a clap of thunder on a clear day.
The demons exchanged glancing looks with flickering eyes, their scalps tingling and chills running down their spines.
Melogas's words carried hidden meaning; she was openly undermining the demon race's loyalty to the princess, intending to turn her into a figurehead and ultimately replace her.
"Lady Melogas, forgive my bluntness."
Just then, a young demon's voice suddenly arose from the seats. Bowing sycophantically toward Melogas, he said, "Back then, Her Highness the Princess returned to the Demon Realm only with great difficulty, yet she has always yearned for the human kingdoms. In essence, she has long considered herself human, and Caliera indulged her even further, creating a princess so weak she does nothing but cry at every turn. Should we truly be ruled by a human girl wearing the skin of a demon?"
Before his words had fully faded, a whoosh sounded. A streak of black radiance flashed like a bolt of silk, sinking straight into the demon's chest.
The demon froze, then toppled to the ground with a thud, his corpse decomposing into foul sludge.
In an instant, another demon was thoroughly dead.
Looking in the direction of the black light, the Lord of Blasphemy had raised her scorpion tail, its stinger pointed directly toward the seats.
It was Melogas who had struck again.
The other demons truly dared not make a sound, terrified to even swallow their saliva.
Melogas had gone on a killing spree.
"Human?"
Melogas cast a cold glance at the demon remains on the floor in the distance, her voice chilling. "Are you questioning our princess? If anyone dares to speak disrespectfully of the princess again, I will show not the slightest tolerance."
She looked down haughtily upon the entire hall, brimming with murderous intent.
As her words fell, the entire Throne Room fell dead silent, the gathered demons gripped by terror.
Even someone speaking in her favor was killed.
Melogas had intentionally killed a demon who openly took her side simply to establish her authority and project an image of loyalty and legitimacy.
"Princess, only I would treat you so kindly. After all, I am your aunt."
Melogas, the Lord of Blasphemy, looked down at Hyperion and spoke softly, the corners of her mouth trembling slightly.
"..."
Hyperion gripped the armrests of the throne tightly, her knuckles turning white.
She swallowed with difficulty, her throat feeling parched and dry.
If she could, she truly wanted to call her real aunt, Talia, to beat up this wicked aunt, Melogas.
Yet the cruel reality was that Tata, a Third-Seal civil official, could never be a match for Melogas, a Sixth-Seal general.
"It seems you understand my good intentions, Your Highness."
Hyperion's subtle reaction only deepened the smile on Melogas's face.
She reached out, wanting to stroke Hyperion's cheek, but considering the occasion, she slowly held back her hand.
Even so, Melogas's scorpion tail gradually curved behind Hyperion's throne, tracing the shape of a heart.
Though she coveted the princess's body immensely, she was in no rush for the moment.
"..."
Hyperion felt that Melogas's "kindness" seemed even more terrifying than her malice.
A chill shot up from the soles of her feet straight to the crown of her head.
This was the first time she had ever encountered a female demon like this.
Unlike Caliera, Hyperion could not feel the slightest warmth or trust toward this Lord of Blasphemy, Melogas.
On the contrary, she could sense only boundless desire and lust emanating from her.
"All right, everyone, relax. Don't go frightening the princess."
Fortunately, Melogas didn't dwell on Hyperion any longer. Letting out a silvery laugh, she proceeded to outline her opinions and important directives to the assembled demons.
...
Hyperion endured a torturous time in the Throne Room before the gathering finally came to an end.
With immense relief, she stood up and walked down the steps under the watchful eyes of Melogas and the gathered demons, heading outside the hall.
Only after leaving that suffocating space did she feel as though she could breathe fresh air again.
Seeking out Pranay and the others on her own initiative right now would surely arouse Melogas's vigilance and suspicion.
It would be enough to wait for Pranay and Antanas to contact her; with their special abilities, bypassing Melogas at an opportune moment would not be difficult.
In the Demon King's Palace of the Demon Realm, the main hall on the first floor was a massive, circular regency hall.
The upper floors were the royal family's private domain, featuring study rooms, bedrooms, meeting halls, and all the accommodations befitting a grand estate.
In the past, aside from Caliera of the Fall and demons permitted by her, other demons were not allowed to enter the palace's higher levels.
Presently, this custom appeared to still be maintained.
Hyperion walked down the long, dim corridor flanked by ancient, heavy stone pillars.
She quickened her pace, eager to return to her room—that still somewhat familiar dwelling.
At last, she reached the palace's second floor and pushed open the doors to her bedchamber.
Inside the spacious bedroom, the purplish-red glow of the setting sun filtered through sheer curtains, spilling across the soft carpet.
Heavy drapes blocked out a small portion of the outside light.
Hyperion quietly looked around the room. Outside the window lay the palace gardens and the distant barrier.
Her gaze pierced through the translucent barrier, looking far out toward the royal capital's inland bay.
Last time...
It was at the restaurant across the bay that he had come to find her.
What followed was a dreamlike, unforgettable midsummer.
She had never imagined that upon returning to the Demon Realm, everything would have changed so completely. Caliera was no longer in the Demon King's Palace, and Lanqi was no longer at the mansion across the bay.
Hyperion leaned wearily against the doorframe, taking a deep breath. Only then did she feel her frayed nerves ease slightly, and she went over to draw the curtains open completely.
Yet right at that moment, she sensed a faint movement beneath the vanity.
Hyperion's heart tightened, and she instinctively summoned her dagger.
Looking closely, however, she realized it was merely a clump of gray fur.
Puzzled, she took two steps forward and crouched down.
By the dim glow of twilight, Hyperion saw clearly: it was actually a tiny gray kitten curled up in the shadowy corner.
It seemed to dislike the light; Hyperion's act of opening the curtains had disturbed it.
Hyperion crouched curiously before the vanity.
The shadows of person and cat seemed to gaze at each other upon the carpet.
The little gray kitten was frail and thin, bearing wounds on its body. Its eyes were dull and withdrawn, yet brimming with vigilance.
The more Hyperion looked, the more an inexplicable sense of closeness welled up within her.
That familiar demonic mana made Hyperion certain: this was no kitten, but a demon child disguised as a cat, curled up in the corner.
The pendant on its chest was engraved with demon script that read "Tamisha."
Hyperion tentatively reached out a hand.
The little gray kitten backed away.
Yet behind it was the wall; there was nowhere left to retreat.
"Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you," Hyperion said softly, slowing the approach of her hand.
At last, she gently gathered the tiny gray cat into her arms.
The moment she touched it,
Hyperion felt a familiar mana.
Like a warm current, it resonated along Hyperion's fingertips.
It was like the final ember left behind by Caliera.
Without question, this demon child had inherited a portion of Caliera's most fundamental power.
"Thank goodness... It's a life you protected."
Tears streamed down Hyperion's fair cheeks as she tried hard to muster a smile.
Hyperion pressed it close to her chest, her tearful expression tinged with bitterness, yet brimming with relief and emotion.
Her heart ached seeing the wounds on the tiny gray cat. She quickly placed it onto the bedding and began rummaging through the cabinet for wound medicine.
The Lord of Blasphemy seemed to despise this kitten bearing Caliera's scent and took great pleasure in tormenting it, yet had refrained from killing it for the time being due to certain misgivings. As a result, the young kitten had become entirely withdrawn, looking upon Hyperion now with exceptional hostility.
When Hyperion turned back with the medicine kit,
she found that the tiny gray kitten had jumped back under the vanity, lingering alone in the shadows.
"So you hate being here this much..."
Hyperion lowered her gaze, feeling both heartache and understanding as she spoke to the little gray cat.
It was no wonder. In this cage of a palace, the tiny kitten was probably merely waiting for Caliera, hoping that Caliera might return to find it one day.
Yet Caliera would never come back.
Staying here truly might be dangerous. The fickle Lord of Blasphemy might soon begin purging everything Caliera had left behind.
"It's okay. Let's leave together."
Hyperion scooped the tiny gray kitten out from beneath the vanity once more.
She glanced at the Shadow World information:
[Quest Objective 1: Protect the small spark left behind by Caliera.]
[Quest Objective 2: Understand the heart of Lanclos of the Black Sun: 0.13%. (Incomplete)]
While she hadn't been checking for a brief period, Quest Objective 2 had changed slightly.
Though she still didn't understand what Quest Objective 2 entailed, Quest Objective 1 had now become clear to her.
If she wanted absolute safety, going to the demon race's ancestral land in Purgatory City Pasqual was definitely the way.
As the only legitimate royal of the current era, as long as she remained in the ancestral land, no demon could threaten her.
Therefore, her quest objective could also be interpreted as safely reaching the ancestral land.
"Shall we leave together?"
Hyperion murmured softly, her voice filled with comfort.
"We'll go to a safe place, where no demons can bully you."
She closed her eyes, pressing her cheek against the gray kitten that carried the aura of Caliera's mana.
"..."
The tiny gray kitten paid Hyperion no mind.
It only pushed her away with all the strength in its front paws.
It disliked young female demons who acted like mothers, and it refused even to transform back into human form in her presence.
No one could tame it.
And it would never surrender Caliera's treasure.
Chapter 771