Novel

The Queen of the Night Demons, Noir Giabella, stood resplendent in a seductive dress that left her collarbone, shoulders, and back bare. Her laughter rang out like tinkling bells.

For a noble of her stature, the dress was scandalously revealing. Yet, naturally, Noir bore it with audacity. In fact, she found it regrettable that there were fewer guests to admire her exquisite form.

"A bit disappointing," Noir murmured, lowering her colorful sunglasses to the bridge of her nose.

"What do you find disappointing?" asked Gavid, standing nearby in a meticulously tailored tuxedo. Under normal circumstances, he might have criticized Noir's lack of decorum. However, his mind was elsewhere. Gavid was uncharacteristically tense, anxious, excited, and fluttering with anticipation.

"Don't ask such an obvious question, Gavid. You're thinking the same thing, aren't you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Right here," Noir replied, her lips curving into a subtle smile. A tantalizing breath escaped each time those lightly tinted lips parted.

Excitement and anticipation also throbbed within Noir. This emotion heated her body, especially her chest, and the succubus, who had lived for a long time, emitted Dark Power faithful to her feelings. Any ordinary demon who was faced with Noir in her current state would not only struggle to control their raw desire but struggle to even breathe.

Of course, Gavid was different. Regardless of how potent and overwhelming Noir's magic was, he wasn’t focused on her, though his gaze remained on her. His hand grazed the hilt of the Demonic Sword Glory strapped to his waist as he remained silent.

"How many years has it been? Several decades…? No, almost a hundred, right?" asked Noir.

"Ninety-seven years," Gavid promptly answered. "To be precise, ninety-seven years and one hundred and thirty-four days."

"Almost a hundred, then. Isn't it? It's been a very, very long time."

Given this, it was inevitable that Noir would feel nervous and excited. She wore a deep smile while pressing a hand against her fluttering heart.

"That's why I feel disappointed. A hundred-year interval isn't a significant amount of time for us demons, but... today…. today is very special, isn't it? If it were me—" said Noir.

"Be careful with your words, Duke Giabella,” Gavid interrupted her immediately. “If it were me? You sound as if you covet the throne—"

"Oh, please, don't overreact, Gavid. I’m just saying it casually. It’s not like I’m seriously eyeing the Demon King's throne."

Noir shot Gavid a sidelong glance, her smile fading slightly. But his expression remained utterly grave. He was a stern man who rarely appreciated jokes, and when it came to matters of the Demon King, he took them far too seriously.

"I'm just saying, if it were me, I would have done it bigger. Much grander. Since it’s been almost a hundred years since the Throne's door was opened. I would've invited numerous guests, summoned the press, and even called envoys from other nations. I would have thrown a grand party,” said Noir.

"Such words hold no merit," Gavid muttered, a smile absent from his face.

He no longer wanted to engage with Noir, so he turned his gaze away.

"Such a dull and humorless being," Noir chuckled while observing Gavid's retreating form.

How could one serve the obsolete Demon King so loyally yet be so narrow-minded? Well, he'd been this way for centuries. Ever since he was chosen by the Demon King of Incarceration to be The Blade, Gavid had devoted everything to the Demon King, adhering only to his will.

‘That's why you're blind,’ Noir thought, a smug satisfaction filling her chest.

She tasted a sweet victory, tinged with a bittersweet longing, as she licked her lips.

Ah, my Hamel.

My unforgettable first love.

‘You know nothing, Gavid Lindman. That Eugene Lionheart... is none other than Hamel from three hundred years ago.’

The beings in this hellish realm who knew this truth were likely few. Perhaps only the Demon King of Incarceration and…

‘And me. The Demon King probably figured it out himself…. But I…. Hehe, Hamel told me in person.’

Even though it was just her conjecture, Noir believed it with certainty. This revelation brought her joy and excitement. The fact that Eugene Lionheart revealed his true identity was due to his trust in her.

‘Trust…. Yes, this is trust. Hamel, you know me well. And I know you.’

It was only natural. Noir dug deep into Hamel's dreams three hundred years ago. She had delved into the depths of the man named Hamel Dynas, and she had tasted the hatred that lay buried within.

That was why she fell in love.

‘My Hamel, don't worry. I will never betray our secret. Especially not to this humorless, serious man.’

Noir turned to look at Gavid while hiding her smile and asked, "What do you think?"

"About what?"

"The reason the Demon King opened his audience hall for the first time in almost a hundred years."

The capital of Helmuth, Pandemonium — at its core stood the Demon King's fortress Babel, a skyscraper of ninety-nine floors.

From the ninety-first floor upward was the Demon King's palace. Its doors had not been opened even once for the last one hundred years. Even Gavid, the closest aide and knight to the Demon King, had not entered the palace in these hundred years.

"The reason is quite obvious,” said Gavid.

"Appointing a new bearer for the Staff of Incarceration? Ha-ha…. Now, really? Even Edmund Codreth received his title and Vladmir on the ninetieth floor, didn't he?"

Noir continued, "And listen. Edmund, Balzac, and Amelia, all three made their contracts with the Demon King in your office on the ninetieth floor. But now, suddenly opening the palace for the investiture?" Noir chuckled while shaking her head. "And besides… although it’s quite lacking by my standards, this isn’t a secret ceremony, is it?"

Noir was correct. Whatever was taking place wasn’t a secret.

The palace doors had opened for the first time in a century. Present at this grand event were powerful, high-ranking demons hailing from Helmuth. The lowest rank among them was a count, though not every count had gathered here. Most of them had weathered the war three centuries past, garnered merits therein, and lived to this day growing their power. The ones gathered here were the true demons. All demons up to rank one hundred were gathered here.

"Ahem…."

Their gazes — unmasked by desire — were electrifying. Among them, violent gazes lusted not for Noir's physical form but for her power and existence. To Noir, these were trivial, yet the fervor aroused amusement in her.

"I dare not presume the intent of the Demon King; however…," Gavid finally broke his silence.

"Edmund…. Didn't the previous Staff of Incarceration meet an unsightly death?" responded Noir. "He was murdered. His greed was simply too great. Or was he merely unlucky?"

"I respected Edmund's intentions. His will to realize his ideal deserves respect,” countered Gavid.

"Ah…. Really? You never thought he was too presumptuous?" asked Noir.

"Do not blaspheme the dead. It was the Demon King of Incarceration who permitted Edmund to actualize his will,” responded Gavid.

"He failed nonetheless. You know who killed him, don't you?" asked Noir.

"From a human perspective, Edmund's greed would be seen as evil. The Hero would certainly see it as something that must be stopped,” said Gavid.

"Eugene Lionheart. What are your thoughts on him?" Noir asked casually.

"I think he's an excellent human. A man of iron will. Like Vermouth…. Which is why I genuinely hope he will ascend Babel to prove his worthiness as the Hero, sooner rather than later.” Gavid's lips curved into a smirk as he expressed his sincerity while caressing the hilt of his sword. "But Edmund's unfortunate death isn't the only event. A lot has happened this year. More serious issues have occurred this year than in the past few centuries. The Brave Molon returned, the Demon King himself acknowledged the existence of the Saint and the Hero, the Dragon Demon Castle fell, the Staff of Incarceration was murdered… and—"

"Sienna of Disaster has returned,” Noir interjected with a laugh. "Even though it's circumstantial evidence, we can feel the truth, can't we? Raizakia was involved in Sienna Merdein's disappearance. The two disappeared… no, they went missing, quite amicably."

"How should we interpret the return of Sienna Merdein? Did Raizakia, that foolish, greedy, black lizard, die two hundred years ago? If he died then, it's strange that Sienna Merdein returned only now. If they were sealed together... and Raizakia died, thus breaking the seal, that would make sense,” Noir continued voicing her thoughts.

"Speculation,” countered Gavid.

"I can say these words without any major worry. There's no weight of responsibility to bear. Who is the successor of Sienna Merdein? Eugene Lionheart. So then—"

"Do you think Raizakia was killed by the young hero?" Gavid asked with narrowed eyes.

"Isn't that a possibility?" suggested Noir.

Gavid laughed silently, "Indeed, that may be so. If that's the case…. Haha. Should we mourn and pity the degradation of Raizakia to such a pitiful existence? Or should we applaud the brilliance of the young Hero, Eugene Lionheart?"

"Are you going to leave him be?" asked Noir.

"What do you wish I would do?"

Noir scoffed and shook her head. It was such a predictable question. Still, she responded, "Of course, we should leave him be. The Demon King has issued a proclamation and…. Hmm, to tell the truth, I'd rather wait for that young one to ripen a bit more. You're equally famished, aren't you?" asked Noir.

They couldn’t chase after him yet.

'My Hamel is not yet ready.'

Noir could wait as long as necessary.

She could wait until Hamel, until Eugene was ready — until he, as unchanged as he was from three hundred years ago — or rather, with even more malice and killing intent — came to rip everything to shreds, including Noir herself.

"The Demon King's will was the same," Gavid muttered while looking around. One hundred demons were waiting for the descent of the Demon King of Incarceration. The majority of their expressions held more anticipation than boredom for this wait. The palace was being opened for the first time in a hundred years. What words would the Demon King bring as he descended to personally preside over the ceremony?

'War.'

Among the demons who had lived through the age of war three hundred years ago, many had fallen and lost their power due to peace, temptations, and various other reasons.

But the demons here were different. They remained ferocious, starved for blood and war. Hence, they hoped the Demon King might declare war at today's ceremony.

'Foolish creatures,'?Gavid scoffed at the other demons.

The Demon King of Incarceration would not declare war directly. In the Knight March, he had already proclaimed this fact to the kings of the continent.

If one dared to guess the Demon King's intentions, the reason for opening the gates of the palace today and summoning the demons... was likely a warning to the starving demons not to engage in unnecessary actions.FiNd 𝒖pd𝒂tes on n(𝒐)/v𝒆l𝒃𝒊n(.)c𝒐m

"How impudent,” Noir commented with a laugh. "Does she think she’s the star of the day, huh? Even I came early to wait."

The demons started to murmur. It was because of the woman who had just walked through the opened door. She was a woman with brown skin, clad in airy clothes suitable for a dancer of Nahama. Her mouth was covered with a veil.

"The Black Thorn," a demon mumbled.

It was the dungeon master of the desert, the Black Thorn, the Death Answerer — Amelia Merwin. She was given many nicknames, but today, she would be bestowed a new title.

"It took some time coming from so far away,” Amelia commented with a smile from behind her veil.

Amelia was not the only one to enter the palace. Trailing behind her were two attendants. One was Hemoria, her lips concealed behind a metallic mask and a slave collar around her neck. She glared at the surrounding demons with hostility while grinding her teeth beneath her mask.

Beside Hemoria was a man, his entire figure shrouded in obsidian armor. Even his visage was hidden beneath a helm. The identity of this figure was immediately known to all the demons present. He had a dense aura of death — he was a Death Knight, considered to be among the strongest among the undead.

However, to the demons that had experienced the era of war, a Death Knight was no threat. In those days, Death Knights were treated more like trophies, trophies created from slaying human knights or warriors, either forced into submission or corrupted.

'What is this?'

However, most demons could not bring themselves to scoff at the Death Knight. The murderous aura that the Death Knight was unabashedly radiating was truly intimidating.

"This is...."

It was a familiar aura. Gavid cocked his head while directing his gaze at the Death Knight. The Death Knight returned the stare.

With a clinking sound, the Death Knight shifted in his armor. Hemoria immediately turned her startled gaze towards him, and Amelia raised her hand. “You must not.”

Thud...

Amelia's magic bound the Death Knight in place. A scarlet glow flickered from within his helmet, but Amelia, still smiling, shook her head. "You mustn't."

"Haha…."

The Death Knight let out a hollow laugh at her words. This prompted Gavid, who had been watching the scene play out, to burst into laughter.

"What a fascinating…. No, splendid... haha, what should I say? Toy? Pet?" commented Gavid.

"Knight," Amelia whispered after locking eyes with Gavid, "My knight-protector. Will you refrain from insulting him?"

"It seems... unwise to bring him here…. Isn't your knight discomforted?" asked Gavid.

"He understands his situation and circumstances,” countered Amelia.

"Make sure you hold his leash tightly. Any unnecessary commotion won't end with a simple reprimand."

At these words, the Death Knight's eyes flared again. He appeared as if he were ready to charge at Gavid right there and then, but Amelia’s magic kept him in check. Even so, a strong surge of bloodlust was directed at Gavid.

"Interesting indeed. Very entertaining."

Noir, too, had deduced the identity of the Death Knight. Who could possibly miss this potent bloodlust?

Noir knew that Hamel's soul had been reincarnated. That made the identity of this Death Knight all the more intriguing and, in a way, more exciting.

'Did she brainwash another soul? Or is this a projection of his memories…? Either way, it's interesting. He's a fake who wholeheartedly believes himself to be real, doesn't he?'

It wasn't just Noir and Gavid who recognized the Death Knight's identity. Some of the demons who had lived through the times of war had seen Hamel on the battlefield.

Hamel of Slaughter. Those who had survived encounters with him had done so purely due to good fortune. Hence, not only curiosity but also a strong sense of pleasure rose among the demons. Wasn’t this the same human who had once wreaked havoc among?demonfolks??He had been thoroughly corrupted and trained into a Death Knight.

Booom.

The hall suddenly fell silent. An oppressive force descended from the high ceiling and silenced every demon present. Without hesitation, all the demons knelt. Gavid and Noir did the same, kneeling in the foremost positions.

Amelia Mervin felt a tingling thrill as she knelt behind Gavid and Noir. Hemoria trembled, her body consumed by a massive wave of despair and fear. The Death Knight... he felt an unbearable humiliation.

From the ceiling descended a shadowy staircase. It extended from the highest floor of Babel, the ninety-ninth, down to the hall on the ninety-first floor.

Slowly, very slowly, a man with pallid skin and long black hair began to descend the staircase. Hemoria barely managed to raise her eyes to take in the figure of the Demon King of Incarceration.

He was beautiful, beyond what one would expect of a Demon King. His appearance was both eerie and seductive, as if the concepts of night and darkness had been given human form.

Countless chains clanked in the wake of the Demon King of Incarceration, trailing down the stairs behind him. When they were gathered into a pile, they looked like a cloak. The Demon King did not descend the entire staircase. Instead, he stopped midway and looked over the assembly of one hundred demons.

"Quite a crowd," were his first words.

A crimson staff materialized when he raised his right hand — Vladmir, the symbol of the Staff of Incarceration.

"Before I appoint a new bearer of the Staff of Incarceration…," The Demon King of Incarceration said while tilting his head, "...kill each other until only half of you remain."