Chapter 11

Before stepping across the threshold, Charlo had calculated the probabilities.

Perhaps she was a fugitive noblewoman fleeing a political purge. Or a high-ranking survivor of the Demon Invasion, crippled and desperate.

He had expected many things. He had not expected the Demon Lord herself.

"Davis! Get everyone out! Immediately! Seal the perimeter and evacuate this sector!"

His subordinates were confused by the sudden, frantic order—Charlo was usually the picture of calm—but years of drilling kicked in. Without a word, they exited, slamming the door shut behind them.

The moment the latch clicked, Charlo turned back to her, speaking at rapid-fire speed, his hands raised in a placating gesture.

"Miss Clyris, I know you have unspeakable difficulties. I swear on my honor as a Lord that my men did not recognize you, and I will take this secret to my grave!"

"I don't believe you."

The Demon Lord killed the negotiation with four words.

Charlo felt the air in the room condense. Mana was gathering at her fingertips. The spell structure was already complete.

There was no time to think. In the span of a spark, Charlo lunged forward. His blood boiled, his Qi surging to its peak instantly.

With his left hand, he drew his Anti-Magic Dagger—a dark steel blade etched with disruption runes—and thrust it viciously toward the Demon Lord’s heart!

But Clyris was prepared. With a contemptuous flick of her finger, she abandoned the complex spell she was weaving and simply blasted raw, unshaped mana directly at Charlo’s attacking hand.

BOOM!

The Anti-Magic Dagger was a scalpel; it worked by piercing the body and severing the target's internal mana flow.

Against a sledgehammer of raw kinetic energy, it was useless.

Charlo felt like his left arm had been fed into a hydraulic press. His gauntlet shattered, along with the dagger. Shrapnel flew everywhere, slicing his forehead. A piece of his shattered armguard punched clean through the thin wooden door and flew outside.

But he didn't stop.

Ignoring the screaming pain, and amidst Clyris’s look of genuine surprise that a human would dare continue, he swung his right fist and smashed it into her face!

CRASH!

The fragile wooden bed couldn't handle the force. It snapped in two, sending the Demon Lord crashing through the mattress and into the dirt floor below.

"My Lord!" "Viscount!" "Master!"

The chaotic noise triggered shouts from outside. Charlo heard the distinct shhh-ing of steel being drawn. Davis was coming in.

"NO ONE ENTERS!!!"

Charlo screamed at the top of his lungs, his voice cracking with desperation. If they came in now, they were all dead!

Before the Demon Lord could rise from the debris, Charlo spoke, his voice low and urgent.

"You saw it yourself, Miss Clyris! I sent them away! I have no intention of exposing your identity! We can talk!"

"How do you prove these aren't just words to prolong your miserable life?"

Clyris sneered, wiping a trickle of violet blood from her lip. She didn't believe him. Her eyes were burning with a cold, annihilating light.

Cold sweat drenched Charlo’s back. He had no time to formulate a careful argument.

In a desperate flash of wit, he played his ace. "The Fortress of the Western Reach has been retaken! You can't go back on your own! I can help you!"

"What?"

Clyris froze. The mana flared and dimmed.

Seeing his opening, Charlo pressed on. "I can hide your identity here! I can help you recover safely!"

"The Fortress... fell?" The killing intent in her eyes wavered, replaced by a sudden, urgent concern. "And the demons inside?"

Surprisingly, she cared more about her subordinates than her own predicament.

Charlo paused for a heartbeat, calculating the risk of the truth. Then, he answered honestly. "All dead."

The mana gathering at the Demon Lord’s fingertips dissipated. Her arm dropped to her side, lifeless.

The Fall of Hope.

When the human noble uttered the words 'All dead', the ember of hope Clyris had been holding onto finally extinguished.

"Will... Allen..."

She whispered the names of the two Grand Dukes, a deep sigh echoing in her soul.

They had only recently inherited their titles. They were new Ninth-Rankers—practically children by High Demon standards. That was why Clyris had assigned them to the "weaker" Morris front, rather than bringing them on her suicidal charge into Thebes.

She had given them specific orders: Delay. If you can't hold, retreat. Abandon the Fortress if necessary. Give up territory. Just survive. Preserve the fire of our race.

But...

"Did... did any escape?" Clyris asked, her voice hollow, ignoring the Lord's earlier nonsense about helping her. "Surely some must have fled?"

"Uh..." Charlo hesitated, then shook his head. "No. The two Grand Dukes led the remaining Third and Fourth-Rank demons in a final counter-charge against the Knight Orders. They died in battle. None survived."

"And the lower ranks?" she asked softly.

"The lower ranks... they stayed in the trenches outside the city to delay the Knights. They were wiped out."

Clyris took a deep, trembling breath. Her hearts ached.

They had used every tactic she taught them. They had done even better than she expected. Although she didn't know the price the humans paid, Will and Allen had successfully forced a melee, neutralizing the devastating momentum of the human heavy cavalry.

They had done everything right... except survive.

The Demon Lord stood motionless, lost in grief.

Charlo seized the opportunity, striking while the iron was hot. He shouted toward the door. "Davis! Take a team and fetch several sets of women’s clothing! Get veils and hoods, too! Immediately!"

"Yes, My Lord!" Davis’s voice replied from outside, confused but obedient.

"See, Miss Clyris? I am hiding you," Charlo said, lowering his voice. Then, he dropped his biggest bargaining chip. "More importantly... not only will I help you return, but I will also help you fight against the Empires and the nobility!"

"You?"

Clyris finally snapped out of her daze, looking at him with bewilderment.

"Look at the situation," Charlo analyzed rapidly. "The Grand Dukes who stayed behind are dead. You are injured and stranded here. This means the main force that invaded Thebes must have suffered catastrophic losses too. How many Ninth-Rankers do you have left? How many High-Rank demons?"

He looked her in the eye. "It just so happens that my enemies include these Empires and their rotting nobles. I can be your ally!"

"Ha!" Clyris let out a scornful laugh. "You? A Fifth-Rank Knight? You couldn't even defeat me in my crippled state, and you dare speak of toppling Empires?"

"True. Right now, I am weak compared to the Empire. But give me time, and I will drag the Emperor off his throne!" Charlo said with absolute confidence.

"Soon? Do you expect me to wait five hundred years?" Clyris mocked. "You humans live such short lives. Do I wait for your son? Your grandson? Or do I wait until I die of old age?"

"No! Ten years!" Charlo held up a finger. "I guarantee it. In ten years, I will unify the Eastern Border. In twenty, I will control the entire East. In fifty, I will declare war on the Morris Empire!"

"At that time," Charlo continued, "you can attack from the West. Once Morris falls, we join forces and march South to take Thebes!"

"Oh, a wonderful fantasy. And how exactly will you achieve this?" Clyris sneered. "Just you? By the way, ten years is enough for me to heal and slaughter the Morris Empire myself! In fifty years, I could conquer the entire continent of Rodinia! What use are you in ten years?"

"Ah, true." Charlo nodded, not denying it. "In ten years, I'll likely only be Seventh-Rank. I can't punch through an Empire like you can. But are you willing to believe in something else? Do you believe in the wisdom of mortals?"

"The wisdom... of mortals?" Clyris blinked.

"Yes. Mortal wisdom."

Charlo reached into his holster and pulled out his prototype flintlock pistol. "Like this!"

"This is...?"

The Demon Lord stared at the small, ugly iron lump. She sensed no magic from it.

"Watch closely!"

Charlo gritted his teeth against the throbbing pain in his broken left arm. He cocked the hammer with his thumb, aimed at the wooden wall, and pulled the trigger.

BANG!

A sharp crack echoed, smelling of sulfur. A neat hole appeared in the wooden planks of the wall.

"That's it?"

Clyris analyzed what she just saw. When he pulled the trigger, a small hammer struck down, creating sparks. Then, a burst of violent, chaotic mana exploded inside the chamber. However, runes on the iron tube lit up, constraining the mana and preventing a blowout. Finally, a small round lead ball was propelled out by the pure pressure, piercing the wall.

"A weapon that can't even hurt a Mid-Rank Knight?" Clyris looked confused. "This thing would struggle to kill a Third-Ranker. What use is it?"

"Did you see me use my own mana?" Charlo asked, a confident smile playing on his lips.

Clyris froze.

It was true. He hadn't mobilized a single drop of his internal mana. That meant the iron ball was propelled entirely by the weapon itself.

But how is that possible?

Telekinetic arrays existed, but they all required a mage to inject mana to activate them! And this iron lump was too small to hold a self-sustaining mana source. How was it done?

"See? I don't need mana. This means even an ordinary person—a commoner without a shred of talent, a peasant who has never held a sword—can hold this, load it, and kill a Third-Rank Knight!"

Charlo grinned, his eyes gleaming with the fire of the industrial revolution. "That is why I call it the Wisdom of Mortals!"

"I don't know how you did it, but its power is negligible. What can a toy like this accomplish?" Clyris scoffed, recovering from her surprise.

"What if I told you... this is just the smallest, weakest version?"

"What?"

"I can show you the big ones." Charlo holstered the gun. "So... can we take a step back? Can we stop trying to kill each other for a moment?"

The Demon Lord hesitated. She looked at the hole in the wall, then at the man who dared to punch a god in the face.

She let out a long breath.

"For now."