“The Demon King has been resurrected. What about those Demon Lords from back then?” Jetri asked Vya.

They hadn’t reached the Delan border yet.

“This…” Vya looked troubled. To be honest, she wasn’t sure. In her heart, she felt those Demon Lords likely wouldn’t resurrect like Satan—but she had no proof.

“Alright.” Jetri had only asked casually. After all, as the squad’s mage, he possessed the broadest knowledge.

Though the *scope* of that knowledge was rather… peculiar.

The carriage rolled across the vast, empty wasteland.

Lilith and Victoria had little desire to speak.

The Half Elf and the princess were both racking their brains over how to spend time alone with Jetri.

Their earlier chattiness at departure? Probably just relief that Jetri hadn’t left after all.

Now, one sat meditating with eyes closed; the other prayed silently.

They were still over three hundred *li* from the Delan border—not within arm’s reach, but not far off either.

Truthfully, with their current levels, they could’ve reached the border swiftly on foot. But someone would’ve had to carry Jetri.

So everyone tacitly avoided mentioning it—even though carrying him might’ve been faster.

The sky deepened to dusky yellow.

“Honored guests,” the coachman’s voice drifted through the window, “ahead lies the kingdom’s last major eastern town. Beyond it, you’ll need to drive yourselves.”

“Understood,” Vya replied coolly.

The coachman wasn’t ordinary—but compared to the Radiant Star Squad, he was far outmatched. Past this growing town, high-level demons of the Demon Clan might appear. He’d come this far only due to the passengers’ status, mission, and honor.

“Let’s rest in the town ahead—Lilith.” Jetri suddenly called to the Half Elf.

“Hm?” Lilith blinked slowly awake, puzzled. The coldness in her eyes vanished the moment she recognized Jetri. Flustered, she sat up straight. “W-what is it?!”

“Go ahead to the border. Find the most detailed map possible.” Jetri’s tone was flat, expression unreadable.

“Understood.” Lilith didn’t hesitate—almost *too* eager. She vanished the instant he finished speaking.

“Come back!” Jetri’s voice, amplified by a first-circle magic spell, boomed across the wilderness.

The Half Elf reappeared in the carriage, slightly disheveled.

“It’s not safe here anymore. Watch yourself,” Jetri chided sternly. His expression softened. “Beyond the map, gather useful intel. As a scout, you know what matters—no need for me to spell it out.”

“Mm.” A faint tension colored the Half Elf’s wheat-toned cheeks.

…Jetri felt a pang of worry. Why did this once-reliable teammate now seem so unsteady?

“If trouble arises, return immediately. Your mission is *only* to scout the border’s current state. No detours.” His tone sharpened. “We’re here to slay the Demon King again. *Nothing* else matters.”

His voice turned icy.

The other three showed no reaction—they were used to it.

Lilith composed herself and gave a slight nod.

“Return within three days. We’ll wait at the town’s largest inn. If plans change, we’ll contact you via magi-com.”

She nodded again. The Half Elf finally looked the part: cold, efficient.

“That’s all. You may go.”

Lilith bowed slightly—and vanished.

Jetri sighed quietly.

A bad premonition stirred. Their levels were incomparably higher than five years ago… yet something felt *off*.

He glanced at Victoria.

Princess Delan’s lake-blue eyes met his—darted away—then locked back, steady.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing.” Jetri shook his head.

The town swelled on the horizon.

Carriage wheels kicked up dust.

Like a new chapter of an epic unfolding.

Dust swirled.

At the Delan border, dust swirled too.

A scene of carnage—a meat grinder of flesh and steel.

Before Delan’s first-line fortress hovered a familiar silhouette: enchanting, dangerous, alluring, powerful.

She hung in the air.

Vast black wings blotted out the sun.

The nightmare every Delan soldier knew too well.

A nightmare that should have awoken long ago.

Level 150 Succubus Lord.

Second only to Satan in the Demon Clan.

The Demon Lord Delan’s frontline troops saw most often.

—Chelsey.

The moment she descended, her wings swallowed the battlefield.

Her arrival felt divine.

They blocked the sun—and every soldier’s sight.

At the battlefield’s heart, she embodied all evil beauty.

Pale pink hair drifted like hypnotic smoke.

Her black, fox-like eyes—meant to smolder—held only indifference.

Lower-level fighters on both sides froze, gazes locked on her, oblivious to the war around them.

Even the lesser demons stood entranced.

A strange silence fell.

Combatants forgot to fight, staring up in awe.

Then she spoke.

“Richard Jetri. Where is he?”

Her voice carried—velvety as her eyes.

From afar, Delan’s commanders couldn’t read her expression.

Couldn’t guess the emotion in those dark, fox-like eyes.

“The one who killed me… where is he *now*?” she asked again.

The succubus scanned the fortress below. He wasn’t there.

Her words sent Delan’s officers into a panic. Messengers were urgently dispatched to the capital with news of the Succubus Lord’s resurrection—and strict orders to contact Lord Sage, warning him to avoid this route.

Three hundred *li* away, Jetri knew none of this. He’d just settled into town.

This border zone had never held many permanent residents—only bustling trade, merchants flowing endlessly.

But now, Delan’s easternmost major town felt hollow.

Desolate.

Jetri understood why.

And was quietly glad. At least he wouldn’t struggle to find an inn.