The snapped arrowhead dropped like a shard of iron, an arm’s length from Rafi’s skull. A lone finger rose into its path, flesh catching steel and killing its rush.
?!
A chill of shock pushed the Forest King back like a gust through leaves. He knew that arrow’s bite; he’d worn it more than once. To stop it barehanded meant the foe wasn’t simple.
He lifted his gaze like a hunter testing the wind. A man in a black coat stood there, beard rough on a weary jaw, haggard carved into his face like dry bark.
The man noticed the stare and looked back, black pupils like bottomless wells. A thin thread of fear tugged the Forest King; those eyes could swallow a man whole.
Silence hung like mist. Then the man’s voice cut it clean.
“Thank you…”
“Huh?!”
Confusion flared like a startled bird; one heartbeat they were enemies, the next he was offering thanks.
He didn’t have to stew long. The man answered his own riddle, words dropping like pebbles into a pond.
“I really should thank you. I wanted slow fire—train Rafi bit by bit, awaken her magic and the Demon King gene safely. The safest road.”
“Turns out that guy was too clever by half and swung the blunt hammer I avoided. Rafi’s state is rough, but the goal’s met.”
“You… what are you trying to say?”
“Ah… nothing much. As my helper in raising Rafi into a Demon King, do you have a wish you want granted?”
The Forest King stalled like a beast sniffing bait, then delight bubbled up like spring water. Hit someone and get paid? What a sweet tale.
“Then… I want… I want endless treasure!”
The Demon King laughed without warmth, a dry chuckle like stones knocking.
“Heh. What does a monster want with treasure?”
At that, the Forest King’s eyes lit like torches, heat rising in his face like noon sun.
“To expand my territory, of course! Don’t fuss—just give me the treasure!”
The Demon King nodded, hand slipping behind his back like a magician’s sleeve. A cloth pouch appeared, then arced toward the Forest King like a falling moon.
“Take it. It holds space the size of half a country, packed full of treasure. Use it to your heart’s content.”
Hearing “endless treasure,” the Forest King’s grin burned hotter, a wildfire licking the treetops.
“Then… can I go?”
The Demon King smiled, and this one came cold, a blade under velvet.
“Of course. But reward without punishment? You beat Rafi into this state, so the penalty can’t be light.”
Understanding fell like a shadow. Two beads of cold sweat slid from his brow; the pouch weighed heavy like a stone around his wrist.
The Demon King lowered his gaze, thought dark as a closed cave, then lifted his uncle-like face with a deeper smile.
“Then… death sentence~”
He raised one hand like a mountain cresting the sky. Magic surged, solid as iron, and pressed down like falling earth. The mighty Forest King vanished, treasure and dream alike ground into dust.
Punishment done, the Demon King turned to Rafi lying in a blood-slick pool. Her wounds had knit like moss on rock—Demon King gene at work—but it didn’t call her back from sleep.
“Good grief, more trouble again, little Rafi…”
His mouth said trouble, but his arms said care. He scooped up Rafi and Nina, then walked toward the Demon King’s manor, footsteps steady as night.
—
Bang.
He kicked the door open like a storm breaking. He set the two on the bed, then looked at Ling, who sipped black tea on the sofa like a moonlit lake.
Seeing her so calm, a small, sour wind stirred in him.
“Your approach was too much…”
His voice came cold as winter glass, and Ling answered with a rolling eye, sharp as a flicked fan.
“You think I’d do something with no safety net?”
The Demon King paused, a thought flickering like a candle. Someone at Ling’s level might have safeguards; maybe his worry was the one running wild.
Seeing belief settle on his face like dust, Ling took a gentle sip, and a knot inside her loosened like a released bowstring.
Annoyance first, then a sigh: how could she predict a so-called Forest King popping up? She’d tossed Rafi into the woods by novel routine, fishing for a fortuitous chance. Bad luck bit first—enemy boss at the opener. Blame the timing.
But they were fine, and that was gold. Time to collect on the promise.
She set down her half-drunk tea like placing a token, and the Demon King’s focus slid to her like a compass needle.
“So… time to honor your word?”
In this land, a strong one’s promise was iron. Ling’s method had rough edges, but the job was done. He wouldn’t break his vow.
“I know. Give me a second.”
His body flickered like an old TV screen. A perfect double peeled off, stepping out like a shadow turned solid.
“Let this one take you. I still need to look after Rafi.”
Who guided didn’t matter; reaching the Yanluo King did. Ling nodded, simple as rain.
She stood and headed for the door, stride light as a cat. Just before she left, the Demon King’s voice rose, solemn as a temple bell.
“Strong one! I feel we’ll meet again. As the Demon King, I request alliance. If you meet us out there, we’ll give you our full strength. How about it?”
In this strange world, allies were shelter, not shackles. As for demons—aside from the lusty streak and a certain succubus—Ling found them kinder than tales, less shadow, more street.
Friendly, easy allies? Why say no?
“Mm, that’s good. We old folks know the weight of allies when we’ve lived long, haha.”
She was barely twenty, but she played the seasoned elder, voice borrowed from the old man downstairs in a past life.
The Demon King heard the stumble in her tone like a pebble in a stream, but he didn’t call it out. He laughed along, warmth like embers.
So a real old man and a fake silly loli stood there, laughter awkward as creaking floorboards, until Ling couldn’t bear the scene. She grabbed the excuse and the clone, then slipped away like wind through bamboo.
