The northern part of the Demon Realm.
Naica Island, the Demon King's Palace.
When the first rays of dawn pierced the clouds and spilled into the Regent's Hall on the eastern side of the palace, the Regent Melogas was already seated at her desk attending to official affairs.
She sat upright on a throne inlaid with obsidian and scarlet gems, her slender fingers holding a sharp, pitch-black Demon Realm quill made from eagle feathers.
The Lord of Blasphemy's face was as cold as a carved block of ice, an imposing aura unmistakably lingering between her brows, like a queen surveying her realm.
"Sigh."
Before long, she exhaled a soft breath, closed the document before her, and set it aside.
Resting her cheek on her hand, Melogas stared at the official dispatches in utter boredom.
Once she relaxed, the composure from moments ago vanished, as if she had been intermittently restless over the past couple of days.
After who knew how long...
"Lord of Blasphemy."
At the far end of the grand hall, a demon cloaked in pitch-black materialized soundlessly.
The spy possessed a slender, agile build, akin to a black leopard almost melting into the shadows.
Melogas sensed the newcomer's presence.
She raised her head nonchalantly and looked straight at the spy.
"Speak if you have business."
Looking at her most trusted confidante, Melogas wondered why she had come to disturb her; by all rights, there had been no tasks assigned to her recently.
The Princess was no longer in Naicalis, the other great demons were behaving themselves submissively, and the Holy Polant Theocracy and Horning Empire were even more surprisingly peaceful.
The spy stepped forward two paces, dropped to one knee, and bowed her head in salute.
"My Lord, your subordinate has come to report an important matter."
Not daring to presumptuously cast a barrier against eavesdropping, the spy spoke in a volume only the two of them could hear.
Melogas's cold jade-like fingertip tapped lightly on the desk, personally erecting a screening barrier, her face devoid of any expression.
"You may speak now," she said.
"The Headmaster of Purgatory Corridors Academy whom you instructed us to watch has made a move within the Demon Realm."
The spy lowered her head even further, her voice turning hurried and tense.
"Hm?"
Normally calm and self-possessed, Melogas fixed her gaze on the spy upon hearing this.
She had indeed instructed her subordinates to keep an eye on the headmaster's movements, to ensure no blind fool among the demons provoked him, and to offer him every convenience.
Yet Melogas had not expected that just one day after her return to the royal capital, the Holy Polant Pope, who had only recently assumed office disguised as the headmaster, would already be on the move.
On second thought, however, it was Caliera who had summoned the Holy Polant Pope here, and he had only taken on the guest role of headmaster out of friendship; realistically, the Pope was due to return to the Holy Polant Theocracy to attend to his proper duties.
Thinking this, Melogas couldn't help feeling a faint pang of disappointment.
Although her pride made it impossible for her to go to Purgatory Corridors Academy to seek him out anytime soon, if given enough time and if he remained in Purgatory City Pasqual, she, as Regent, might eventually find some official business requiring her to visit Pasqual and see the fellow.
"That Phantom Demon gentleman departed Purgatory City Pasqual alone last night. Riding a Demon Realm wyvern from Pasqual, he has been flying at top speed toward Naicalis..."
Fine beads of cold sweat formed on the spy's forehead. Observing the somber aura settling over Melogas, she forced herself to remain calm as she continued her report: "Furthermore, after the secretary at Purgatory Corridors Academy reported for work this morning, a transmission was sent from over there, seemingly conveying the headmaster's request to see you."
Crack!
At these words, Melogas gripped the quill so hard that the pale back of her hand turned ashen, snapping the pen in two.
Her mouth parted slightly, her gaze darkening with inscrutable emotion.
The Regent's Hall grew extraordinarily quiet, save for the unsteady rhythm of a beating heart.
The spy did not dare look up, feeling cold sweat soaking through the back of her tunic.
Her master Melogas had always taken lives entirely at her own whim; there was no telling whether the overly temperamental Regent might suddenly lash out.
"You say... he wants to see me?"
Melogas pressed a hand to her chest to keep her heart from leaping out.
The Pope had actually come alone, not to escort the Princess back, and more importantly, he had asked for her specifically?
"Yes. Should I decline on your behalf?" the spy answered briskly and with conviction.
She knew Melogas had been in a foul mood ever since returning from Pasqual.
Fortunately, the news of the Princess's escape had not leaked to the other great demons; it was a scandal potent enough to shake royal authority, bound to undermine Melogas's prestige and standing among the demons.
The Lord of Blasphemy had evidently compromised with the Princess, consenting to let her remain in Pasqual.
And that matter was unquestionably the fuse behind the Lord of Blasphemy's foul temper, so none of her subordinates dared make the slightest mistake lately.
"Refuse? What kind of joke are you making?! Invite him to the Demon King's Palace to see me—and on no account are you to show him any disrespect!" Melogas retorted in astonishment, her slender fingers tapping irritably against the desk as she barked the order.
"Understood, Lord of Blasphemy!"
The spy felt as if she had received an imperial pardon and scrambled to comply.
Though utterly bewildered, she saw that Melogas seemed to be in a good mood again, so all she needed to do was carry out her orders.
"Go, quickly."
Melogas waved her hand impatiently.
The spy drifted back like a wisp of black smoke and vanished from the hall.
Silence settled over the vast hall once more.
Melogas gazed blankly out the window in the direction of Pasqual, as if the recent interlude had merely been a trifling ripple. Yet her restless fingers unconsciously caressing her scorpion tail betrayed the churning tempest within her heart.
She looked down at her attire, pondered for a moment, tossed aside the official documents, and rose, heading toward her bedchamber. Her footsteps through the palace corridors carried a vigorous, decisive rhythm.
...
Dozens of minutes later.
Naica Island, the royal capital of the Demon Realm. Two hours had passed since sunrise; today was overcast.
Clouds and mist coiled in the sky above the island while twilight clung to the ground. This ancient demon city-state seemed to slumber on the edge of time, waiting for a new day to arrive yet forever poised at the final second of night.
The Demon King's Palace stood majestically in the heart of Naicalis, close to the coast of Naica Island.
The base level of the front plaza served as a reception and security checkpoint, connecting to the Coastal Boulevard. Most of the time, it was open to the public, allowing demons to tour and learn about the history of the Demon Realm.
In ordinary times, order was strictly enforced here, but this morning, the surrounding complex of the Demon King's Palace had been closed off for VIPs.
Only a select few demon nobles with pressing duties were permitted to ascend the long flight of steps in the front plaza, enter the palace, and traverse its extended corridors to handle indispensable routine affairs.
The first floor housed the Regent's Hall, administrative offices, and lounges for nobles; it was also the core area for internal palace operations and conferences.
As for the restricted second floor and above, only royal family members, summoned guests, and the Regent were permitted to enter.
Presently, on the second floor:
"Headmaster, Lord Melogas is already waiting for you."
The spy, now dressed as a court attendant, walked beside the Phantom Demon along the second-floor corridor, their low conversation occasionally drifting through the air.
Earlier she had been clad as a spy, though operational needs sometimes required her to disguise herself as a palace maid.
Toward this Headmaster of Purgatory Corridors Academy, she was exceedingly respectful—setting aside his title, the Lord of Blasphemy had explicitly instructed her to receive him properly.
Strangely, even before she could lead the way, the headmaster seemed to know the right direction, as though he had been here before and was merely revisiting familiar grounds.
"Thank you, you've been a great help," Lanqi thanked the master of ceremonies.
The corridor was spacious and bright, hung with ancient Demon Realm oil paintings and flanked by sculptures and antiques that all looked rather familiar to Lanqi.
Last night, after seeing Xigelei off and finishing dinner at the Demon King's Bestowed Restaurant, he had set out for the capital.
Lanqi had left Hyperion at Purgatory Corridors Academy to spend time with her best friend Lissandra, granting Lissandra a week of paid leave to simply hang out with the Princess every day.
Family needed to be placed in the safest location. He had brought only the portable cat carrier bag and kept Talia in her possessed state.
Having arrived in Naicalis just this morning, Melogas's people had promptly arrived to escort him to the palace.
This unfamiliar court attendant also seemed highly competent, rivaling the former protocol officer Lissandra. However, where Lissandra had the gentleness characteristic of Caliera's faction, this attendant carried the restrained, disciplined air of Melogas's Demon King's Army special forces.
"You are too kind," the attendant replied with slight relief.
The headmaster wore a long overcoat over formal attire, with a silver-white mask tucked at his waist—she knew not what custom this hailed from.
His race was Phantom Demon, possessing the same naturally pale silver hair as the former Regent Caliera, along with an alluring, mesmerizing aura of magical power.
The silver-white mask clearly did not match the style of the Demon Realm; even viewed from the side, it leaned more toward the religious aesthetic of humanity, with soft contours, a serene expression, and a compassionate, sorrowing benevolence between its brows.
She had initially worried that any headmaster regarded as a friend by the Lord of Blasphemy would be a terrifying figure. Never had she expected him to be so affable, bearing none of the haughtiness of a high-ranking demon.
As they turned the corner in easy conversation, they found a figure already standing ahead.
Light dappled the carpeted corridor. Melogas wore an evening gown as dark as the midnight sky, her hands sheathed in black silk gloves. Her long hair was gathered at the back of her head, each strand meticulously braided, with a few loose tresses resting lightly upon her shoulder.
The attendant abruptly skidded to a halt, the corner of her eye twitching.
She almost failed to recognize her master, the Lord of Blasphemy Melogas.
Two hours ago, the Lord of Blasphemy had looked completely different.
"Bringing him here is enough," the Lord of Blasphemy said in a cool tone, glancing at the attendant.
She caught the impudent thoughts of her subordinate, but today she couldn't be bothered to hold it against her.
"Yes, My Lord."
The attendant bowed respectfully, then made a swift retreat.
"Come. I will lead you to the reception room."
Melogas showed not the slightest trace of the slight familiarity they had shared when parting last time.
She had reverted to her customary detachment.
Treating the Holy Polant Pope as an enemy.
Melogas turned and walked ahead.
"Miss Melogas, you may very well treat me as a Demon Realm compatriot now. I won't raise a hand against you," Lanqi said with a smile as he caught up to her.
"'Miss Melogas' again? Whatever, I can't be bothered to argue with you. I can't beat you anyway," Melogas replied, affecting an aloof and distant air without turning her head.
Truth be told, she had never acquiesced to any other demon addressing her like that.
When she thought about it, expecting the Holy Polant Pope to call her "Lord Melogas" was unrealistic, so letting him call her "Miss Melogas" was the only viable compromise.
Melogas headed straight for the reception parlor in the palace's east wing.
The Phantom Demon trailed two paces behind her.
Beneath her long gown, Melogas's steps glided over the chalkstone floor, maintaining the stately composure befitting the Regent of the Demon Realm as she came to a halt before the doors.
Reaching out a slender, pale hand, she brushed her fingertips over the door's surface.
She was burning with curiosity about the Phantom Demon's purpose, yet maintained her reserved dignity and wariness as Regent.
The parlor was situated at the easternmost edge of the palace, separated from Melogas's Regent's Hall by only a single wall.
The two massive doors inlaid with Demon Realm titanium crystals slid open automatically to either side, revealing the parlor's interior.
Melogas stepped aside and gestured for him to enter, distant yet polite.
Lanqi nodded slightly and stepped into the venue Melogas had chosen for their discussion.
His gaze swiftly swept across the furnishings.
The parlor floor was paved with black marble inscribed with intricate silver patterns resembling the boundless starry sky of the Demon Realm. In the center stood a long table carved from demon dragon bones, draped with a dark velvet tablecloth.
Refreshments were already laid out. Aside from tea, there was hell lava bread—crisp on the outside and tender within—served with magical beast cheese and jam brewed from Naicalis black roses. Just the scent alone was mouthwatering.
Lanqi took a seat on the sofa, and Melogas leaned down to sit across from him.
She shifted slightly, settling herself and tucking her scorpion tail behind the backrest so the stinger wouldn't point toward him.
"Speak. What brings you to see me?" Melogas gazed out the French windows at the garden, speaking in an offhand manner.
'Wait, why is she acting so normal?' Talia's voice echoed in Lanqi's mind, brimming with suspicion.
In her memory, the Lord of Blasphemy from that night was a raving lunatic.
Today, however, one couldn't find a single flaw in her; she looked completely like a cool, glamorous, and rational Regent of the Demon Realm.
Could this b*tch be playing coy in front of Lanqi, putting on an act of being a proper lady?
'You seem to harbor far too much malice toward Melogas,' Lanqi replied with a chuckle in his thoughts.
'I loathe her to death! Don't you be fooled by that front!'
Just thinking about Melogas made Talia's skin crawl.
Had Lanqi not come to ask for Melogas's help, she would never have agreed to see her.
Even though she was hiding inside Lanqi's body and didn't have to face Melogas directly, Talia still felt intensely uncomfortable.
'Master, rest assured. I will deal with her; you don't need to show yourself. Miss Melogas truly is the supreme powerhouse of this era, and I need her strength,' Lanqi comforted Talia.
'...'
'Why do you use honorifics with her, yet you've never once called me "Miss Talia"?' Talia suddenly caught onto something.
'Master, your depth of character is different, and your generational standing is different. What kind of decorum would that be?' Lanqi replied with utmost politeness.
'I—you!'
Hearing Lanqi's heartfelt, utterly sincere explanation, Talia wanted nothing more than to pin him to the couch right then and there. But she dared not reveal herself before Melogas, nor did she want to leak any magic power that might let Melogas catch her scent.
Why on earth was even Melogas considered younger than her in Lanqi's mind?!
Talia's resentment soared to the heavens, yet she was trapped in a dilemma with no outlet.
She was so frustrated!
Lanqi had exploited a total loophole!
In the humid garden beyond the window grew exotic plants of the Demon Realm: blood-colored roses capable of devouring mana, violets that released hallucinogenic spores, and mandrakes that could peer into the human heart. A few Demon Realm butterflies danced gracefully among the blossoms, and occasional insect chirps drifted into the parlor.
Awaiting the Pope's response, Melogas calmly lifted her teacup and took a light sip.
"Melogas, could you help me?" Lanqi asked solemnly, clasping his hands together over his knees.
"Huh?"
Melogas tilted her head slightly with a wistful expression, as if she hadn't understood, dark strands of hair silently slipping past her neck.
She hadn't anticipated that the Holy Polant Pope's first words would be a request for help. It left her surprised, yet also a bit underwhelmed.
Did the Holy Polant Pope actually need help from another demon?
"I need your help," Lanqi repeated, fixing his gaze on her to confirm.
"That will not do. I am the Regent of the Demon Realm; under no circumstances will I betray the Demon Realm just because of your request. Even if you... even if you try to take it by force, I will never agree."
The Lord of Blasphemy scrutinized his demeanor, seemingly displeased by his blunt demand. Her voice took on an edge of deliberate hostility, as if ready to fight at a moment's notice.
The Pope coming in person to ask for her help undoubtedly meant he would make exorbitant demands—such as asking the Demon Realm to exempt the Holy Polant Theocracy from tariffs, borrowing an outrageous sum of money, or directly demanding technology and resources.
"I'm from the Demon Realm too. How could I ever ask you to do something harmful to the realm?" Sensing that Melogas was far too high-strung today, Lanqi asked with a helpless smile.
"Uh."
"The Demon Realm is my second home. Without it, I wouldn't be who I am today."
"Then I believe you."
Melogas realized that the Holy Polant Pope was surprisingly nostalgic, feeling such a sense of belonging toward the Demon Realm.
She felt somewhat relieved.
Yet deep down, there was another faint pang of disappointment.
Her wild imagination had already spun scenarios of being utterly humiliated and subjugated by the Holy Polant Pope after her defeat.
And now, it turned out nothing of the sort was going to happen.
"What exactly do you want me to do?"
After pondering for a moment, Melogas tapped her index finger against the rim of her cup, asking casually.
In all likelihood, it would just be strengthening cooperation between the Demon Realm and the Holy Polant Theocracy, rather than some outrageous unilateral treaty.
She had come to terms with it: as long as it didn't harm the Demon Realm, even if the benefits to the Demon Realm were next to nothing, she would just agree to it for now. Who told her fists to be weaker than his? She had no choice but to bear the humiliation and wait until she could beat the Pope, then demand everything back with interest.
Expecting the Pope to foolishly tear up the peace treaty with the Horning Empire so the Demon Realm could profit from the sidelines was nothing more than a pipe dream.
"Join me in destroying the Horning Empire," Lanqi stated his request plainly.
"Pfft!"
Melogas nearly slipped off her seat.
She covered her mouth with a handkerchief, having never lost her composure so thoroughly.
"Pope, are you mad?!"
Melogas readjusted her posture, covering her gaping mouth with both hands.
Had she not been constantly reminding herself to maintain her poise before him, her eyes would have been wide open and blinking incessantly by now.
Looking at the Holy Polant Pope, he didn't seem to be joking in the slightest; when he had released her in the Land of Purgatory before, he had spoken with the very same earnest expression and tone.
"Melogas, do you know of the Mirror of Tyberius?" Lanqi asked.
"...Of course."
Melogas narrowed her eyes, her expression settling into gravity.
Previously, she had desperately wanted to know where this super-ancient divine artifact was located, but in the entire Demon Realm, aside from the former Demon King, perhaps only Caliera knew the answer.
Deducing the situation now, the Holy Polant Pope before her likely knew as well.
"It is actually at the very bottom of Purgatory Corridors Academy. That was why Caliera summoned me here. In the future, I will have to entrust this divine artifact to your safekeeping. I used the Mirror of Tyberius three times, and I saw that the Horning Empire is currently brewing something truly terrifying..."
Lanqi candidly revealed the answer to her, then proceeded to recount most of the intelligence he had gathered from the Mirror of Tyberius in detail.
"..."
Melogas stared wide-eyed, momentarily dazed by what she was hearing.
Though these words that tore away the hypocritical veil of world peace sounded somewhat absurd and insane,
she believed that the Holy Polant Pope spoke nothing but the truth. Everything aligned frighteningly well with reality; the more she listened, the more shocked and incensed she became.
Or rather, the Pope had no reason to deceive her. In just a few days, she could verify the truth herself, and even if she did nothing, the Pope would travel south in person to uncover it for her.
Those damned Blood Clan bastards actually dared to scheme the annihilation of the Demon Realm!
Silence lingered in the parlor for a long time.
"I can understand that the Holy Polant Theocracy wants to wage war against the Horning Empire and wants to drag our Demon Realm into the water with you. But what if I refuse?" Melogas asked Lanqi in a negotiating tone.
For her, the optimal plan was to let the Holy Polant Theocracy fight to the death while the Demon Realm reaped the spoils.
"No. Publicly, I will break all ties with the Holy Polant Theocracy and destroy the Horning Empire purely in my own personal name. However, my power alone has its limits, so I need you great demons to disguise yourselves as my familiars to assist me," Lanqi explained to Melogas.
Melogas froze.
On second thought, if the Pope had gone through three simulations with the Mirror of Tyberius, his grasp of the future likely surpassed anyone else's. He must have realized that only this path could dismantle the Blood Clan's game and minimize casualties.
Analyzing the entire situation, Melogas realized it was indeed so: only if the Pope went rogue and insane would the Blood Clan accept and indulge his rampage in the Horning Empire, thereby misjudging his situation and waiting to hunt him once he was exhausted.
"At the very end of it all, when the catastrophic large-scale northern expedition erupts from the Horning Empire, the Holy Polant Empire will block everything for you. The Demon Realm will have at least a century to recuperate and rebuild. I also guarantee that within those hundred years, the Holy Polant Theocracy will never do anything to harm the Demon Realm, and the Land of Eternal Night will be ceded entirely to you," Lanqi added, presenting the complete terms of his deal to Melogas.
The Land of Eternal Night served as a buffer zone between the Demon Realm and the Holy Polant Theocracy. It had originally belonged to the beastmen, but now that the beastmen were extinct, the side near Little Stone City was predominantly human, while the side near Little Night City was mostly demon. Yet neither city-state belonged to the Demon Realm nor to the Holy Polant Theocracy.
Over the years, neither side had clashed over ownership, but both knew well the strategic value of the Land of Eternal Night to their respective realms; conflict over its jurisdiction and demarcation was bound to erupt sooner or later.
To a proud demon like Melogas whose sole ambition was to become the Demon King, she placed no less weight on a transaction than a demon princess like Talia. Once struck, Melogas could be firmly trusted to honor the pact.
"But what do you stand to gain from this?" the Lord of Blasphemy asked Lanqi in bewilderment after pondering for a long while.
Even if this minimized casualties, the lives of ordinary mortals, truthfully speaking, had nothing to do with a singular existence like the Holy Polant Pope, who had stepped into the divine realm. There was no need for him to debase and sacrifice himself like this.
Aside from a legacy of universal infamy, he would gain nothing at all.
"As long as it can protect the Holy Polant Theocracy and the Demon Realm for generations to come, I am willing to bear it."
Lanqi looked into Melogas's eyes, speaking the heartfelt words of Lankeluosi.
He extended his white-gloved hand toward Melogas, as if further words were unnecessary, waiting only for her final answer.
This was both the proof of an alliance and the Pope's solemn vow.
For a long time,
Melogas bit her lip, head turned away, without giving the Pope an answer.
"Melogas, for the sake of our fellowship as demons, lend me a hand," Lanqi lowered his posture slightly, entreating her.
"You..."
Hearing his voice, Melogas felt an ache in her heart.
He was already giving up everything—why was he still humbling himself to beg her?
And at this moment, the only one in the world who could help this man was her.
"Fine. I agree. But don't mistake one thing, Pope: this is not a collaboration between the Demon Realm Regent and you."
The Lord of Blasphemy finally made up her mind and nodded.
"It is merely as your friend, agreeing to indulge your reckless madness this once."
Melogas clasped Lanqi's hand.
Chapter 800