Imp to Demon King: A Journey of Conquest

As Mab, Garduck, and Mordred ambushed Titania in the dream world, Adam blinked above Oberon. His hammer flashed down in a crushing blow aimed at annihilating the concept of defense itself.

Winds roared behind the strike, and as he had expected, Oberon didn’t raise his bow to parry despite the thick golden plates reinforcing it. Instead, he blurred into movement as mana erupted from his wings. Propelled forward, the fairy king strained his abdominal muscles to shift mid-air. Now facing Adam, reality swirled into a divine arrow. Compressed energy pulsed across its surface in multicolored waves as the air trembled around the tip.

Oberon snorted, his voice a forceful bellow reverberating through his ravaged capital. "I’ve heard you earlier. So, Mab taught you a thing or two about magic? I wager she told you how imagination could reshape mana to our wills. And that’s precisely why neither of you will ever defeat me, especially in my domain. This is not bragging—it’s an absolute truth."

He drew the string of his bow to his cheek, his voice thundering in a command to reality itself. "Nothing can influence space in the fairy woods."

Before his words could even fade, Adam felt their effects. Space grew heavier, almost like solid chains bearing a suppressive weight on one of his authorities. ’Trouble. No time.’

Without thinking, his wing flapped, carrying his figure up—just as Oberon let loose his dreadful arrow.

The moment the arrow would have pierced his head, his eyes sharpened. He spun in a chaotic whirlwind of wings and flapping silk. The arrow brushed his kimono, slicing a hole in its sleeve. From this close, its sizzle forced a shudder down his spine... and his instincts roared that dodging wouldn’t be enough.

The moment those alarms rang in his mind, the arrow that almost passed by him burst with radiant light. It expanded in a split second, drowning his vision in a myriad of blinding colors.

Frost crashed on his body, his skin paling, then darkening. Sharp wind blades whistled, cracking his necrosing skin and drawing almost solid blood. But this was just the beginning. Lightning jolted him, making him spasm. The maws of death, embodied in pure darkness, closed on him.

Unbearable pain barraged his body, his consciousness. Yet, he clenched his jaw and shoved his groan down his throat as his wings stopped flapping. Without the momentum, he began to plummet.

However, it was fine. It was time to utilise the essence he had preserved.

The layer of frost devouring his skin instantly melted, and the hungry jaw of darkness retreated as his body crackled. Dark flames spread like wildfire, engulfing his limbs, organs, and light itself. Rather, devouring its photons.

Oberon thought himself wise not to use fire against him, but fire was merely one of his weapons. After all, energy couldn’t exist without heat. And heat was fuel to him—to the fragment of Mamoon’s greed that he had assimilated.

The flames grew with each passing second as his voice overwhelmed the other sounds. "Plan three!"

His army, which had been watching frozen on the walls, instantly reached for the flask on their belts.

Shihan moved first, her voice echoing the command. "Smear the walls in oil. Djinn division! Set everything on fire!"

As they soaked the walls and plain in oil and set everything ablaze with demonic flames, the fire condensed into a titanic divinity that devoured the elemental explosion, reducing its broad magnitude into something small, inconsequential—merely the size of Adam’s chest.

Dark tongue flames burned around solid limbs, snaking upward in a beautifully dreadful display. Eyes blazed like two dark suns, from which a white corona sparkled with contempt.

A scent of sulfur filled the air as the insatiable hunger of greed consumed any energy source endlessly. Empowered by the abundant heat, Adam clenched and unclenched his fists, smirking.

"Mab indeed taught me about imagination, something you seem to lack. Do you know what else she told me, though?" His voice dripped with mockery. "Delayed casting in any form is the mark of an amateur."

He watched the situation reverse, with Oberon now shuddering as hundreds, then thousands of dark stars ignited around him. They swirled mid-air, their radiance overwhelming any light source, making them appear like black holes about to erupt like volcanoes.

And without a word, not a movement, they did with a deafening roar.

Plasma beams shot from their depths, one at first before multiplying into hundreds, then thousands that instantly filled the sky in a suffocating heat that hit Oberon before the attack.

His breathing grew ragged, but he didn’t pay it attention. He felt them lick his skin, dry his hair, and evaporate even the water in his wide eyes. A split second. That’s all he had to protect himself.

"Oberon is immune to any form of energy!"

BOOM

Before his shriek fully reverberated, the beams crashed into him. The intricate jewellery adorning his white coat became scalding white, dripping molten metal. The coat itself ignited like dried hay, the fabric collapsing into dust.

Even dust evaporated under the raging inferno that imprisoned him in a purgatory sphere. Yet, his body stood straight as the flames rolled over his immaculate skin—unable to damage it.

Instead, they whistled to the ground, drilling scalding craters that forced the army to fall back, their twisted faces illuminated by molten earth glowing like magma.

"Amateur?" He hissed, his hand tightening around his bow. "My words are truths. The world I imagined is reality."

He swung his left hand. "I command a thousand Fragarach."

Just as he wished, a thousand blades, each pulsing with divine runes, appeared in a flash of golden light. They swirled around him in a whirlwind of steel that sundered the flames as if they were a tangible force, their frames unbending, undamaged, unstoppable. After all, Fragarach was the very sword he had seen in Lugh’s hands when he beheaded Balor of the Formorians—the sword of the highest divinity in his pantheon: the sun god.

And today, they would strike at a much more devious fiend with all their noble authorities.