The soldiers following Silva were mostly battle-hardened veterans, some even fierce warriors infused with dragon blood. Yet against the might of the Demon King’s Castle, these two thousand troops were still insignificant.
Moreover, the Demon King’s Central Army was stationed near the capital. Once they joined forces with the garrison and surrounded this small force, the outcome would be a massacre.
The key to this battle rested solely on whether Silva and her subordinates could breach the castle’s barrier and the Tower Knights’ blockade within a short time—and even threaten the Demon King herself.
Everyone knew this was near impossible. An absurd task, like a gnat trying to shake a tree.
Silva was merely a Demon Lord who had existed for less than a century. How could she possibly shake this colossal entity that had stood for over ten thousand years—the very symbol of the entire Demon Race?
These soldiers were indeed fiercely loyal and highly disciplined. Even knowing this, they stood firm, radiating an aura that could crush anything in its path.
"Hmph. So what?"
Facing all this, Silva merely snorted coldly—as if sneering, as if utterly disdainful of everything before her.
Beneath her seemingly calm eyes lurked a fervent, destructive hunger. Under immense pressure, it only burned hotter.
"To speak with me, Beatrice, you’re not worthy. Summon the Demon King. I have something to demand from her."
Silva brazenly called the Demon King by name. Her reckless, arrogant tone—whether madness or stupidity—made every soldier present shudder.
"So you truly refuse to repent..."
Beatrice’s gaze turned icy. She no longer saw the woman before her as a subject to respect, but a target to eliminate.
"Magic Cannons, charge! Await His Majesty the Demon King’s command to annihilate these traitors."
The cold targeting needles of the Magic Cannons locked onto the enemies before the gate. As the magic circles activated, the cannons grew scorching hot. Thirteen intricate magic runes coiled around their barrels, gathering terrifying energy at the tips aimed squarely at Silva.
Facing the four storm-like beams of lethal energy, Silva showed no fear. She stood before her towering soldiers like a mountain at her back, her grin growing wilder, more unhinged.
Her bearing resembled a madman facing a typhoon bare-chested—utterly fearless, as if nothing could break her.
Even the Demon King’s Castle soldiers, who saw her as an enemy, couldn’t help but feel a flicker of awe.
"......"
Tower Knight Beatrice received no reply from Ledyah. To her, this silence was permission to fire.
"Fire!"
At her command, four searing beams of death shot toward Silva at the forefront. With nowhere to dodge, she met the fan-shaped barrage of Magic Cannon fire head-on with her bare body.
"BOOM—!"
The concentrated blast carved a deep crater into the ground before Silva’s army. Yet the crater stopped abruptly at a perfectly straight line—right where Silva stood—as if hitting an impassable barrier.
"Hah..."
Silva exhaled slowly. Bloodshot veins webbed her eyes. Her ordinary female form swelled with powerful muscles, as if molten lava surged beneath her skin. Her body ballooned and contracted like an inflating sphere.
The Tower Knight, shield raised and spear leveled, watched coldly as Silva’s three-meter-tall monstrous form shrank back to that of an ordinary woman within seconds.
The immense, condensed energy within her body was devoured in an instant. Silva dragged her thumb across her lower lip. Her eyes glowed like molten lava—more fervent, more savage—like a beast slowly awakening.
"Much appreciated."
She flashed a shark-like grin, baring sharp teeth, clearly satisfied with her "meal."
"Enough, Beatrice. Let her in."
Inside the palace, Ledyah’s voice drifted from the throne, utterly devoid of emotion.
She seemed lifeless—her gaze hollow, as if she had long since lost interest in the world. Yet her terrifying presence and authority were seared into everyone’s minds.
At her side stood Abraham, ruler of the Enchantress Royal Court. His face was expressionless, eyes closed as if resting, having not yet returned to his domain.
On the other side stood Noah, still in her pure white dragon maiden form. She wore a naturally cheerful smile, tail swaying gently, showing no tension at all.
The Demon King’s inner court swiftly filled with solemn, imposing tension.
"Silva, station your army outside the city. Bring two trusted aides into the inner court. Beatrice, escort her in."
"As Your Majesty commands."
"Understood."
Silva kept her shark-like grin, giving a shallow bow that held no sincerity.
The Tower Knight’s armor disassembled like intricate machinery. A slender doll-like girl leaped out, her tight bodysuit blooming into an ornate skirt. By the time her feet touched the ground, she wore an elegant, sharp ceremonial gown.
In a few swift movements, she reached Silva outside the gate. Under Ledyah’s order, the city gates groaned open. The pitch-black inner city contrasted sharply with the bustling outer streets—a den of no return.
"His Majesty the Demon King summons you, Lord Demon Silva."
The doll-girl bowed with impeccable grace, a perfect attendant guiding Silva inward. Her long silver lashes lowered like falling snow, her slender, elegant limbs causing a ripple of unease among Silva’s soldiers.
*Typical soldiers—fearless in battle, yet flustered by a pretty face.*
"Frost Witch Beatrice," Silva sneered, head held high. "Centuries ago, you were the world-famous Worldbreaker Witch. What happened? After being killed and resurrected for hundreds of years, did you become such an obedient dog?"
She mocked this elder whose grave had stood longer than her bloodline existed.
Beatrice merely closed her eyes. Her jelly-like translucent lips parted slightly—a testament to the doll’s lifelike craftsmanship.
"No comment."
She ignored Silva’s provocation entirely, focusing solely on her duty as guide.
"How dull."
Silva shrugged, beckoned to two powerful aides, and followed Beatrice deeper into the Demon King’s Castle.
Garrison troops and royal guards lined the path, weapons ready, eyes sharp with undisguised vigilance fixed on Silva and her companions.
Her aides shifted uncomfortably. Silva only grew more excited.
"Relax. This is what it feels like to stand in the spotlight."
She wore a reckless grin.
"Remember—we’re making history today."
