“Where is the Demon King’s chamber?” Alex asked calmly, his voice echoing in the ruined corridor.
Around him, twelve glowing swords, [Celestial Judgment], hovered in a slow orbit, their tips crackling with divine energy.
Each blade hummed faintly, sensing the battle still raging in the distance.
One of the surviving angels, likely a high-ranking officer judging by the polished armor and insignia on his shoulder, glanced up at the floors above.
“Likely the top level. But His Majesty, he’s already engaging him!”
“Volks is fighting the [Demon King]?” Alex muttered with a faint groan, clearly displeased.
“Tch. Fine, I’ll handle it.”
He didn’t wait for further directions.
His golden and crimson wings extended wide, light surging through them in a single violent pulse.
BOOM!
In the blink of an eye, he launched upward, tearing through the ceiling.
Each wingbeat shook the fortress.
Marble and steel crumbled like paper as he punched through one floor after another.
He didn’t care for elegance now, just speed.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Floor after floor exploded beneath him, shattered by his presence alone.
And then…
BAM!
His momentum paused mid-air. His pupils dilated, then narrowed.
A dark shimmer coated his irises as his body slipped into “Focus” mode once again.
The world slowed to a crawl, draining of all color except for sharp black outlines and brilliant white silhouettes.
Everything felt cold, calculated, exact.
Through the thick stone and steel walls, Alex could now see.
Not just through mana vision or detection spells, but something deeper.
His mind pierced through the architecture, and beyond the wall directly in front of him, he saw them.
Over fifty demons encircling a winged being in golden armor, his form shaking with exhaustion.
That one had to be Volks, the [Angel King].
There was also a throne.
And on it sat a massive figure, shrouded in an aura so dense and dark it could only be one being.
‘Huh. I can see through walls now?’ Alex noted to himself.
The surprise only lasted a second.
But then came clarity, Volks was on the brink of death.
Alex wasn’t here to be a savior.
This war was his responsibility, but the angels understood the risks, and also seemed eager to do it anyway.
But the Demon King was a target, and it was time to end this.
He exited Focus mode.
The color of the world returned.
Without wasting another moment, Alex exploded forward, slamming through the final thick wall with his wings drawn close.
Like a crimson meteor, he blasted into the [Throne Room].
BOOM!
As the smoke and rubble cleared, the sounds of laughter and violence greeted him.
“Kill him!”
“This is the king of angels? What a joke!”
“Tear off his wings! Show them their place!”
Dozens of demonic voices echoed in unison.
The demons had encircled Volks, who knelt in the center of the chamber, barely standing.
His armor was cracked.
Blood ran down his forehead.
And worse, four of his eight angelic wings had been violently torn out.
The stumps at his back still burned.
The Demon King lounged on his black throne above the chaos, eyes glowing with amusement, watching his elites humiliate the strongest of the angels.
He hadn’t even moved.
But then came the crash. All eyes turned to Alex.
The demons snarled as one, their bodies tensing.
“Another angel?”
“No… look at him.”
“He’s not one of them.”
Then, a low laugh came from the wounded king on the ground.
“Oh… it’s you, human,” Volks wheezed, a trace of amusement in his voice, “Interesting timing…”
The mocking turned into malice.
“Kill them both!” one of the generals barked.
“Rip them apart!” another added.
But then, the air itself changed.
The Demon King, still on his throne, extended his arm slowly.
“Don’t get overconfident. Focus your power. Don’t underestimate him.”
A heavy demonic aura surged outward like a shockwave.
It pushed against the walls, cracked the marble floors.
The air grew thick with bloodlust and darkness.
But Alex didn’t even flinch. In response, he released his own aura, only a portion of it.
And immediately, the atmosphere changed.
The Demon King’s aura was swallowed whole.
The pressure inverted. Half of the demons collapsed instantly. A few vomited blood.
The weaker ones fell unconscious where they stood.
Alex’s gaze locked onto the Demon King, his pupils now swirling, void black, crimson red, golden bright.
“Are these your strongest?” he asked, his voice eerily calm.
“Then I’ll repeat myself, weak.”
The Demon King slowly stood, his expression no longer casual.
“Change of plan,” he growled.
With a flash of darkness, a massive greatsword appeared in his hand, forged from dark matter and brimstone.
“Soldiers! Kill the [Angel King]! I’ll deal with this one myself.”
The remaining demons roared and surged forward toward Volks, claws extended, fangs bared.
But…
Fwish! Fwish! SLASH!
The twelve holy blades surrounding Alex reacted before he even gave a command.
They shot out like lightning bolts, each one carving a perfect path through the air.
In mere seconds, all fifty elite demons were torn apart.
Not a single one reached Volks. Not even one survived. Alex hadn’t moved from his spot.
“Pathetic,” he muttered again, almost like an afterthought.
The Demon King, Asmodeus, gritted his teeth.
His eyes widened as he realized his trump cards had been wiped out like fodder.
His fury turned to desperation.
With a mighty roar, he flapped his wings and launched himself forward.
His blade, massive and etched with crimson runes, crackled with destructive power.
“DIE, YOU PATHETIC HUMAN! WHY ARE YOU EVEN HERE?!”
A system ping appeared behind Alex’s vision.
[Demon King – Asmodeus]
He ignored it. He didn’t need stats.
The Demon King was nearly three meters tall, muscles like stone, skin blood red.
He wore ancient armor and a black iron crown.
His horns curved upward in spirals, marking him as one of the oldest and most powerful demons in the world.
“My blade is called Tharzul!” Asmodeus bellowed, “It has never failed to finish its target! It has never lost!”
He brought the greatsword down with a roar.
Alex didn’t move much.
He simply turned his body midair, allowing the attack to pass close, and exposing his [Wings of Hatred].
“You fool,” Asmodeus roared, slashing the dark blade at the crimson wings.
CLANG! CRACK!
The weapon shattered on impact cleanly. Like brittle glass.
Asmodeus froze.
“What—?”
And before he could comprehend what had happened,
SHWASH!
A single rotation. Alex spun, his [Wings of Hatred] slicing cleanly through the Demon King’s neck.
The edges were sharper than any weapon forged, far sharper than his [Bleeding Dragon Claws].
They were unnatural weapons, born of pure hatred and magic.
A heartbeat later, the headless body fell.
DING!
[You have defeated: Asmodeus, Demon King]
The sound echoed like judgment.
The Demon King’s head rolled across the floor as his lifeless form collapsed beside the throne.
Without ceremony, Alex landed and pressed his palm against the corpse.
“Extraction,” he said quietly, and a deep red glow spread from his hand.
DING!
[You have extracted: Demon King’s Crown (Artifact)]
[Description: A crown that can only be worn by the Demon King. Grants full control over demonkind to the one who proves themselves worthy by slaying the previous king. The bearer must continue to prove their strength or risk rebellion.]
Without a second thought, Alex tossed the crown to Volks.
The Angel King caught it midair, still kneeling.
“Oof…” he winced, inspecting the artifact.
“Having your wings torn off hurts more than I thought.”
“They grow back?” Alex asked.
“Yeah. Slowly. You get used to the pain eventually.”
Alex nodded, “Good. I didn’t come here to babysit.”
“You’ve saved us again,” Volks said, forcing himself to stand, “That makes three times.”
“I wasn’t doing you a favor,” Alex shrugged, “I just wanted the Demon King dead. Consider the crown proof.”
The death of the Demon King would soon ripple through the demon race.
Much like the minotaurs, they would panic without a leader.
War would become harder for them to maintain.
Seeing Alex preparing to leave, Volks spoke quickly.
“The Dark Elves still have a king, but killing him won’t help. We’re negotiating with their council, trying to avoid more bloodshed.”
Alex paused mid-step. He’d been planning to teleport there next.
“Hm.”
He rubbed his chin.
“Alright. I’ll leave them to you. Don’t make me regret that decision.”
“We won’t,” Volks nodded firmly.
And with that, Alex turned away from the crumbled throne room, his wings folding back. His mission here was done.
[Time Remaining Before the Chosen Games: 19 minutes, 28 seconds]
Not much time left. And still more to do.