Imp to Demon King: A Journey of Conquest

The wind whipped against his leather armor as he rushed to the castle. Arriving before Elaris and Adam, he narrowed his eyes past the elven guards into a colorful garden.

However, he ignored the flashy maze of flowers glinting under the morning sun's rays and nodded at a singular spot. The earth djinns had done their work last night.

Like an elusive shadow, he evaded the guards' still-sleepy eyes. His delicate yet fast steps made no noise.

Soon, he crossed the garden and towered before an almost indistinguishable mark on the castle's firm walls.

He felt the wood's smooth texture with his palm as he infused his essence into the mark. With a low hum, it shone a demonic green. At his command, the magic of the earth djinns activated. Molten earth squirmed to life, smoke rising as it dissolved the wood—creating an opening just large enough for him to slip into the castle.

Bart sighed in relief as he heard the liquid flow to clog the hole, erasing any trace of his infiltration. But he rapidly dismissed this false sense of achievement with a shake of his head. He couldn't relax, especially not with Adam's bizarre affliction.

Gripping his broadsword, he navigated the unknown, avoiding patrols, noble constables, and awakening mages. Pressed by time, stressed, and sweat burning his skin, he knocked down and dragged two guards onto an inner balcony.

His heart pounding against his chest, he leaned over the railing overlooking the throne room, a relieved smile creeping over his face.

Adam stood there, between two rows of nobly dressed elves and facing Sylvie, Elaris, and an aged woman. But why did the latter seem off?

He frowned, feeling an invisible pressure crash between her, and Elaris. It was as though they covertly fought.

"Are they disagreeing about Sylvie's return? Or is it about the diplomatic gathering?" He muttered under his breath before shaking his head.

The elves didn't matter. Only Adam's safety did.

As his eyes narrowed in focus, Elaris stretched out his palm, his voice reverberating with passion.

"Adam is indeed a demon. But is his species enough to write his great services off?" He pointed at the smiling Sylvie. "With our legendary princess back, our city's influence will extend outside this constraining forest's shadow. We'll reclaim our ancestor's glory and break the vassal bounds Oikos imposed on us." He clenched his fist before his sharp gaze. "Once again, is that how you thank the person who made everything possible? No!"
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The noble elves' lips twisted as their elder's words settled in their suspicious minds. The prospect of ridding themselves of Oikos' influence made them smile. But how could Elaris trust demons?

As if reading their thoughts, Elaris shrugged and continued.

"Who forced our sons and daughters to die in unfair expeditions? Who bled our civilization in the past three thousand years? The demons or Oikos?"

He cast them a meaningful glance, a sly smile tugging at his lips.

"Wake up, children. Prejudices won't save us. Adam's growing army, however, might do the trick."

"I disagree, Elaris."

The aged woman's voice suddenly cut through everyone's thoughts as she stepped before Elaris.

"I won't even talk about the demons." She pointed at Sylvie's silver hair and the dark tears smearing her cheeks like tattoos. "How is she alive after three thousand years? Why does she bear the mark of the banshees? Wake up, old fool! You checked nothing and took her words at face value! She could be an evil spirit tricking us all for all we know!"

Elaris smirked, gesturing for Sylvie to address the council.

"Please, ease their concerns."

However, Bart's pupils constricted as she stepped forward. He could swear he had seen a dark feather swirl down from her dress. It vanished into the ground, making him doubt his eyes for a second.

"Something's off with her. She has been hiding something for the last three days."

As he muttered, his eyes shaking in dread, Adam noticed the feather, too. For a moment, a sense of déjà vu washed over him, but as it vanished into the ground, the thought slipped away like a fading dream. He shook his head, forgetting about it, and refocused on Sylvie as she began to speak.

She recounted how he had freed her from a three-thousand-year-long slumber and shattered the throne—and he nodded...

'Wait, was she sleeping? Wasn't there someone else in the crypt, too?'

He shrugged, forgetting the question as an ominous caw wiped it from his mind.

Meanwhile, Elaris' smug tone drew his attention back to the elves.

"You heard her story, and Adam confirmed it. Isn't that proof enough to ease your paranoia, Lyra?"

She shook her head. Like Bart, her mind roared that Sylvie was hiding something. Her mana did, too. Even if well hidden, she sensed an unnatural fluctuation rippling occasionally.

Her eyes narrowed at the idea. Somehow, it only happened when Adam's facial expression changed as if... She paled at the thought and leapt back—as far away as possible from Sylvie.

Everyone gazed at her in confusion. But she didn't care and pointed a finger at Adam instead.

"You can count my vote as granted if you answer my question." Her throat dried, trepidation gripping her heart, but she had to confirm her suspicions. "What did you think about our citizens?"

The nobles paled and Elaris' fists tightened at her question. This was a state secret!

However, she pressed forward.

"Didn't you come to establish an alliance with us? You'll have it by answering!"

Adam scratched his cheek and clicked his tongue under everyone's scrutiny. Why did it matter when he hadn't seen them? But he couldn't pass on this opportunity.

He nodded, smiling in wonder and hidden desire.

"They look so healthy and happy. I don't know how you did it, but your governance is an example every ruler should follow."

Lyra's eyes widened, her heart pounding in horror as her suspicions found irrefutable proof. No one would call their pale citizens healthy—not with what the noble council did with them. Although she hated them, she had to warn everyone: Sylvie schemed something, and the demon lord served as her puppet!

As her lips parted, a shape whistle shattered the heavy silence. Time seemed to slow as a silver streak rocketed toward her.

CRACK

Her invisible mana barrier crumbled like glass, morsels glinting like drifting stars as dread consumed her. But it was too late to react. The silver spear was already on her, and she could only watch Sylvie's outstretched hand and twisted lips.

"Drop dead with your paranoia, old witch. Everything I do is for Elden's revival."