CHAPTER 4 — The Demon King and the Mission
The Throne Hall of the Demon Realm wasn’t built to impress visitors.
It was built to remind them how insignificant they were.
The ceiling vanished into darkness, so high the torches could barely scratch its outline. The walls weren’t smooth—deep gouges, irregular cracks, and scars covered them. Not marks made by time.
Marks made by ancient battles.
The floor, polished black stone, reflected the flames with a dull sheen, as if the light itself refused to linger here for too long.
Caelum walked alone through the center of the hall.
He wore no armor.
No insignias.
Only a dark, fitted tunic and a sword sheathed across his back.
His steps were steady, controlled. He didn’t walk like a prisoner… or like a guest.
He walked like someone who knew every movement was being judged.
On both sides of the hall, high-ranking demons watched in silence.
These weren’t common soldiers.
They were generals. Territorial lords. Executors of the Seven Deadly Sins.
Each of them represented a force capable of erasing entire human cities without effort.
Caelum recognized them.
Not by their faces.
By the kind of pressure they placed on the air.
Over the years, he had learned to tell them apart.
The suffocating aggression of Wrath.
The feeling of being watched even without eyes—the signature of Envy.
The crushing, indifferent weight of Sloth.
Envy was not present.
That was deliberate.
And dangerous.
Caelum stopped ten steps from the throne and lowered himself onto one knee.
He didn’t bow his head.
Not out of arrogance.
Out of survival.
Lowering your head before the Demon King wasn’t respect.
It was absolute submission.
And Caelum refused to give that.
The throne rose before him.
Carved directly from the rock. No ornaments. No exaggerated symbols. It looked like a natural extension of the hall itself—as if the world had accepted that this was the point from which it should be ruled.
The Demon King sat upon it.
If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
Motionless.
A statue.
Until he opened his eyes.
The pressure in the hall changed instantly.
Not an explosion. Not a wave of power.
It was as if gravity itself had increased.
Caelum felt the weight in his shoulders, his chest, his bones. His breathing thickened, heavier with every second.
But he did not yield.
“So this is the hybrid Envy tried to erase,” the Demon King said.
His voice didn’t echo.
It didn’t need to.
It simply reached every corner of the hall.
“I’m not a hybrid,” Caelum replied.
A low murmur ran through those watching.
Speaking without permission before the throne was provocation.
The Demon King didn’t react immediately.
He simply watched Caelum for long seconds, as if deciding whether he was worth answering…
Or worth crushing where he knelt.
“Interesting,” he said at last. “You reject labels.”
“Labels don’t change what I am,” Caelum replied. “They only change how others try to use me.”
That was enough to sharpen several stares.
The Demon King stood.
The sound of his armor was quiet—almost imperceptible.
But the floor trembled when he took his first step.
Caelum remained still.
Every step the Demon King took toward him compressed the air. His power was different from the Sins’.
Not fragmented.
Not specialized.
Total.
“Twelve years,” the Demon King said as he walked. “Twelve years watching you grow in an environment that should have destroyed you.”
He stopped in front of Caelum.
“Twelve years hiding the true extent of what you are.”
Caelum lifted his gaze and held those ancient eyes without blinking.
“Hiding isn’t lying,” he said. “It’s surviving.”
The Demon King studied him with renewed attention.
“Envy acted out of fear,” he continued. “And failed.”
A flicker of displeasure crossed his face.
“That alone makes you a political problem.”
Caelum clenched his teeth.
“Then decide what I am,” he said. “A threat… or a tool?”
Silence.
For an instant, Caelum thought he had gone too far.
Then the Demon King smiled.
It wasn’t kind.
It was the smile of someone who had just confirmed a suspicion.
“You are both,” the Demon King answered. “And that is why you still live.”
He turned and walked back to the throne.
“Tell me, Caelum,” he added, speaking his name with perfect clarity. “Do you know why I didn’t order your execution when you were born?”
Caelum didn’t answer.
“Because killing you isn’t free,” the Demon King continued. “Because even I would have to pay a price.”
An uneasy murmur spread across the hall.
That statement was a dangerous admission.
“And because you are useful.”
The word fell like a verdict.
“The Human Kingdom of Asteria is preparing,” the Demon King said. “Not for immediate war… but for an inevitable one.”
Caelum felt the name strike his chest like a hammer.
Asteria.
“They have six heroes,” the Demon King continued. “And four human warriors who have surpassed the normal limits of their species.”
Caelum showed no reaction.
But his mind tightened.
Four warriors.
One of them—
“One of those warriors trains their future generations,” the Demon King added. “An honorable man. Steady. Dangerous.”
Caelum’s fingers curled slowly.
Master.
“You will go there,” the Demon King said. “As a human.”
The sentence carried more weight than any threat.
“You will enter their academy,” he continued. “You will learn how they think. How they fight. How they prepare.”
The Demon King leaned forward slightly.
“And when the time comes… you will break them from the inside.”
Caelum drew a slow breath.
“And if they discover what I am?”
“Then you will die,” the Demon King answered without emotion. “But by then, you will have served.”
Caelum nodded.
There were no lies in the deal.
“You will depart at sixteen,” the Demon King added. “You have a few years to prepare.”
Caelum rose to his feet.
“I accept.”
Not out of loyalty.
Out of opportunity.
The training turned more specific. More cruel. More silent.
Caelum learned human history, geography, politics, formal language. He learned to hide his accent, to shape his voice, to lie without hesitation.
He learned how to lock his power away.
To divide it into layers.
To show only what was necessary.
To appear strong…
But never too strong.
The assassination attempts didn’t stop.
Some came from minor factions. Others—clearly—from the Sins.
One tried to kill him in his sleep.
Another during a training mission.
Another poisoned his water.
Caelum survived them all.
Not by luck.
By foresight.
The night before his departure, the old demon appeared one last time.
“If you cross that border,” he said, “you will no longer belong to this realm.”
Caelum tightened the bindings that hid his horn.
“I never belonged,” he replied.
The old demon watched him in silence.
“If you find something you love there…” he said, “it will destroy you.”
Caelum thought of chestnut hair.
Of a distant laugh.
“I know.”
The portal opened with a deep, violent roar.
On the other side—
A blue sky.
Asteria.
Caelum stepped forward.
And left Hell behind.
Your support helps more than you imagine and truly makes a difference. ??
