The next day.
When the first rays of morning dawn in Naicalis pierced the cloud layers and fell upon the Regent's Hall on the eastern side of the Demon King's Palace, Melogas was already bent over her desk, working through a mountain of official affairs.
She sat poised on a throne inlaid with obsidian and scarlet gems, slender fingertips gripping a sharp, jet-black Demon Realm eagle-quill pen, rapidly reviewing and annotating documents.
Her face was cold as ice, her brow radiating a stern authority, like a queen surveying her realm.
Just then, a mysterious figure clad in a pitch-black cloak, face concealed beneath the shadow of a hood, appeared silently at the far end of the hall.
"Lord of Blasphemy."
The spy's slender frame was lithe and agile, like a prowling panther, her footsteps so light she practically melted into the play of light and shadow.
Yet Melogas had sensed the visitor's presence the instant she arrived.
She lifted her head and stared straight at the newcomer.
Confirming it was her most capable confidante, her delicate brows knit slightly, and she raised a hand, gesturing for her to approach.
The spy stepped forward two paces, dropped to one knee, and bowed her head in salute.
"My lady, I have come to report," the spy said in a voice meant only for the two of them.
"Speak."
Melogas tapped a finger, pale and cool as jade, lightly against the tabletop, her face devoid of expression.
"Her Highness the Princess has escaped. Early this morning, she vanished without a trace."
The spy lowered her head even further, her voice quickening with tension.
"What?"
Melogas, ever composed and self-possessed, locked her eyes onto the spy.
"Disguised as a maid, I was inspecting Her Highness's bedchamber when I discovered that what she left behind was merely a decoy, while the true princess was nowhere to be found."
Beads of cold sweat broke out across the spy's forehead. Forcing herself to stay calm, she continued, "I immediately led a search through every corner of the bedchamber. Even that little gray cat has vanished. Her Highness must have fled..."
Hearing this, the pale skin on the back of Melogas's hand went mottled with white from the force of her grip.
"Princess, your wings have grown strong indeed. Have I been too lenient with you, or did you never show your aunt any respect at all?"
Her face darkened, her gaze turning murky and unpredictable.
Back then, the princess had tried to flee multiple times right under the nose of Caliera, a Tier 9. Now that the princess had grown significantly stronger, no demon beneath Tier 9 could hope to catch her.
The spy dared not look up, feeling cold sweat soak through her collar. Melogas killed purely on a whim; there was no telling whether she might strike right now.
"Did any great demons leave Naicalis with the princess?" the Lord of Blasphemy asked.
"None," the spy answered curtly and with certainty.
Immediately after the princess disappeared, they had checked for accomplices. The finding was that every great demon in the Demon King's Castle appeared completely oblivious, making no moves whatsoever. A few were even extraordinarily nonchalant, not caring about the princess in the least.
"Oh?"
Melogas looked mildly surprised.
She had assumed the princess's confidence in running came from having great demons back her.
She hadn't expected the princess to set off completely on her own this time, flying far away with such resolve.
"Very well, very well, Your Highness."
Melogas let out a cold laugh, her slender fingers drumming irritably on the table with a chilling sound.
"I will deal with your dereliction of duty later. For now, go track down the princess immediately. Bring her back unharmed before the other great demons find out."
She narrowed her eyes, her tone somber and venomous.
"Also, seal the entrance to the ancestral land in Purgatory City, and redouble search efforts in Pasqual."
It seemed Melogas had effortlessly seen right through Hyperion's most likely destination.
"Understood, Lady Melogas!"
Relieved as if granted a royal pardon, the spy hurriedly accepted the command.
She knew full well that if news of the princess's flight leaked and reached the ears of the other great demons, it would be a scandal capable of shaking the throne, inevitably eroding Melogas's prestige and standing among demonkind.
If the princess failed to see the error of her ways and return, the one setting out to capture her might be the Lord of Blasphemy herself.
"Also, Milady, our intelligence agents in the Saint Polant Theocracy sent word: the Pope has agreed to attend the fourth anniversary commemoration of the peaceful restoration of the land of Seville at Iron Fortress Headquarters Oberon in one month."
The spy spoke swiftly.
This indicated that relations between the Saint Polant Theocracy and the Horning Empire might ease in the future.
For the Demon Realm, that was hardly good news.
If the multiracial Saint Polant Theocracy established diplomatic ties with the Horning Empire—dominated by humans and the Blood Clan—it would pose a major obstacle to the Demon Realm's growth in the north.
In Lord Melogas's strategic design, only continued hostility between the Saint Polant Theocracy and the Horning Empire offered the ideal climate for the Demon Realm's expansion.
"If only I could meet with the Pope..." the Lord of Blasphemy murmured.
It was all the fault of that wretched Caliera. When the war ended, she had played the saint and severed ties with the Saint Polant Theocracy, leaving the Theocracy entirely decoupled from the Demon Realm. Now, even if the demons wanted to court or incite them, they had no direct channels left. The Pope had even refused to receive demon emissaries all these years to avoid suspicion.
If she could speak with the Pope in person, bring up old wartime ties between the Demon Realm and the Polant Empire, and provoke him into recalling the hatred of those years, perhaps under the sway of her demonic voice, he might alter his stance somewhat.
While she hardly expected the Pope of Saint Polant to go mad in his old age and launch another war against the Horning Empire, she certainly could not let the blood feud between Saint Polant and Horning dissolve any further.
"Should our sleeper agents in the Saint Polant Theocracy attempt to extend an invitation to the Pope?" the spy asked.
Even if the Pope had grown exceedingly cold, he would likely still remember old bonds and was unlikely to harm a demon messenger with his own hands.
"We can try. The worst that happens is losing a network line," the Lord of Blasphemy said dismissively.
After the war, the Pope seemed to have lost all emotion, growing detached from everything. In handling and viewing matters, he was less like a human and more like an utterly impassive god.
Even with the princess in the Demon Realm, the Pope had never considered reaching out again, much less meeting with demons at such a sensitive juncture.
The Pope had abandoned the princess.
The Lord of Blasphemy was simply waiting for the Pope to die so she could possess the princess with complete peace of mind.
"Understood, Milady," the spy replied respectfully.
Melogas waved her hand impatiently, as though brushing away a fly.
The spy withdrew swiftly, gliding away like a wisp of dark smoke into the far shadows of the hall.
Silence reclaimed the vast chamber.
Only the rustle of the quill scratching against paper echoed beneath the high ceiling.
Melogas reviewed the documents expressionlessly, as if the recent interlude had been nothing more than an inconsequential ripple.
Yet the white tension in her fingertips and the taut line of her jaw betrayed the turbulence within.
The princess's reckless flight was a blatant provocation to her authority and capability.
"Princess..."
She whispered the title in an enchanting demonic cadence, like a lover's murmur, yet dripping with endless peril and malice.
Melogas laid down her pen. The corners of her grayish-purple lips curved into a smile that gradually warped into a twisted sneer.
"While letting you out to clear your head once in a while is harmless enough, you are the princess, after all. You cannot always indulge your whims. Once you are brought back, I shall have to discipline you properly..."
The Lord of Blasphemy cupped her flushed cheeks with both hands, gazing out the window with eyes brimming with adoration.
Just imagining the princess's terrified, despairing expression when dragged back was enough to make Melogas feel as though some lid inside her was about to burst open.
...
Elsewhere in Naicalis, the Demon King's Castle.
A magnificent manor stood quietly within a courtyard blooming with wisteria.
This was the estate of one of the Demon Realm's prominent noble houses.
Inside the manor's parlor, sumptuous hardwood furniture radiated warmth and elegance, pairing harmoniously with the handmade wool carpet laid across flooring of Sirius stone.
"There is no need to worry, Almis. Hyperion has the scroll you gave her, along with the intelligence and route we planned. Her journey will be safe."
Pranay sat on the left side of the sofa, dressed in a tailored black suit vest over a crisp white shirt, his silver-gray cravat gleaming softly.
With his hands folded and an understated, steady demeanor, he looked every inch the courteous, classical gentleman.
In truth, the scroll Almis had stayed up all night crafting was unlikely to see much use anyway. Hyperion's innate concealment magic had reached an impressive degree of mastery; even a Tier 8 searching with all their might would fail to detect her.
"Indeed. Every time I played hide-and-seek with Hyperion beneath the duke's manor, I could never catch her."
Sinora sat on the long sofa to Pranay's right. Clad today in a deep purple dress, she possessed a graceful, lithe figure and an elegant, demure countenance. Eyes closed in serene repose, she held a teacup.
Originally, they were all supposed to accompany Hyperion.
However, Pranay had suddenly announced that he had a plan.
And so, the four of them stayed behind.
"Besides, it makes no difference," said Antanas, sitting beside Sinora. Her smart, lively hair was dyed a striking wine red, and she wore a form-fitting leather hunting suit paired with knee-high boots. "If any great demon among us had chosen to aid the princess, the Lord of Blasphemy would view her as a great-demon-level fugitive and a highly dangerous rebel combat force. Even if she didn't want to go too far, she would have no choice but to eliminate her ruthlessly."
Whether the Lord of Blasphemy chose to exterminate the princess was one thing, but any great demon who helped the princess would certainly be wiped out at all costs.
Antanas was certain of this.
Yet as matters stood, the princess was merely a Tier 6 fugitive demon.
Seeing that the entire court supported her, what threat could the princess possibly pose?
Keeping the princess alive was still necessary to unlock the ancestral land, so the search warrant had been framed as 'find and protect' the princess rather than 'kill on sight.'
"The more relaxed we appear, the more at ease the Lord of Blasphemy will feel."
At this moment, Antanas leaned lazily against the sofa, swirling her goblet. The amber liquid inside refracted vibrant gleams of light.
"I'm still worried about Hyperion..."
The Ice Snow Witch sat on the sofa to the right. Her skin was lustrous as jade, and her silvery-white hair shimmered in the sunlight.
Her eyes, pale as icy blue, exuded an ethereal purity, like a frost elf descended to the mortal realm.
Right now, she watched the other great demons chatting and laughing, sipping tea and wine.
This tea-party-like atmosphere of leisure left her at a loss for words.
Were they truly here to challenge a Tier 8 Shadow World?
The Ice Snow Witch genuinely had not expected Pranay to urge them all to defy common sense and adopt this "hedonistic" strategy.
"Remaining in the enemy camp allows us to monitor their movements more effectively. By staying here, we can keep the other great demons in check, which is far safer," Pranay explained to the Ice Snow Witch.
In truth, the Lord of Blasphemy harbored her own doubts about which demons were genuinely loyal to her and which were merely feigning obedience.
Having just assumed the regency, the Lord of Blasphemy had to read the political landscape of Naicalis clearly. This was her moment to test the loyalty of the other great demons.
"Pranay, you truly are an external brain," Antanas praised.
A fierce battle that seemed unavoidable had, under Pranay's direction, been turned into a vacation.
The ones who were supposed to be the princess's staunchest loyalists had all joined the Lord of Blasphemy's camp.
Seeing everyone lining up behind the Lord of Blasphemy, the fence-sitting demons had no choice but to take her side as well.
And when the Lord of Blasphemy saw that everyone supported her, she would think the Demon Realm was practically already hers—smooth sailing from here on out!
"Leave catering to the Lord of Blasphemy to me. I can see when her mood is favorable, what words will please her, the current distribution of factions in the Demon King's Castle, and I can provide her with wholehearted advisory counsel."
Though Pranay was not omnipotent, within certain limits, his Clairvoyance made him practically all-seeing.
"Brother, are you actually serious?" Sinora asked.
They felt Pranay was playing the double agent with alarming zeal.
His self-preservation and obsequiousness didn't even look like an act.
Sinora knew Pranay's pragmatic 'a wise man yields to circumstances' philosophy all too well. The Lord of Blasphemy was bound to enlist such a great demon sage into her service, because ordinary demons couldn't fake a surrender quite as earnest as Pranay's.
"The one who pioneered this tactic was Rocky McCarthy," Pranay said matter-of-factly.
"..."
Sinora, Antanas, and the Ice Snow Witch all fell silent.
Even though they had been divided between the Protos Empire and the Kingdom of Estheran back then, they were all thoroughly familiar with what had transpired at the Parliament Building.
Back then, Askson, the Bishop of Extinction, had placed too much faith in the polls, leading to a catastrophic misjudgment of the situation in the end.
From Askson's perspective, it looked like a hundred thousand against eight hundred—an easy victory.
Rocky McCarthy had gone on a wild streak of playing the sycophant in the Protos Empire, declaring both publicly and privately, on stage and off, that he was Askson's most diehard supporter. The word had reached Askson's ears, convincing him that Rocky McCarthy was his most loyal fan.
And then, at the decisive moment, McCarthy delivered a massive surprise that left Askson utterly bewildered.
"You people..."
The Ice Snow Witch felt this contrast most acutely. She felt that the three great demons had completely changed their attitudes and ways of operating since then.
Pranay had learned how to play the double agent, Antanas had mastered slacking off, and Sinora had turned entirely into a fun-loving girl.
The Ice Snow Witch had no idea what Talia would say if she saw how thoroughly the three of them had degenerated.
Chapter 772