Imp to Demon King: A Journey of Conquest

The moon’s soft rays cascaded over charred wood and rubble, glistening on tears. Cruel was war, and crueler were the fairies’ military losses. Sons and daughters, fathers and mothers, died along with their king and queen.

However, behind the sadness, a soft smile tugged at the oldest ones’ lips—those with wrinkles drawing deep patterns on their withered faces.

Though they couldn’t complain about Oberon and Titania’s peaceful rule, something was missing compared to what they had experienced before. The couple had promulgated laws and ensured the supply of basic necessities from the depths of the tree of life, never interacting with them.

If the younger saw that detachment from their citizens as regal behavior, it had annoyed the older generation. After all, they had seen the most flawed yet liveliest queen fly around the capital, blow up research facilities with strange experiments, and organised dancing contests during their youth.

Was it nostalgia? Perhaps. But recalling the times she carried little Oberon on her graceful shoulders to introduce him to everyone with sparkling eyes, along with the other events, had made them feel connected to royalty. And now, she was back.

Even those who had stood against her during Oberon’s rebellion stole apologetic glances at her. How painful was it to see her hold her knees against her chest, seated on a lonely branch, her empty eyes fixed on the horizon?

All for what? Oberon’s lies about her madness? But they saw who was the maddest between them. Until the end, she had refused to see him suffer while he... cursed her.

A few wanted to console her for her loss. But one glare from the human knight beneath the tree had frozen their blood. That gaze spoke about violence, ashes, and death.

They had plenty of these, more than in the past two thousand years combined at the very least. But they could show their concern by tidying the capital, burying the dead, and restoring the surrounding forest. Hopefully, their queen would recover a semblance of a smile once the sun rose on the fairy woods’ lush canopy.

With steely gazes, they rushed into action, just as mana hummed softly behind Mab.

Without looking back, her voice quivered. "I do not desire to talk, but..." She sighed. "I can listen if whatever you want to say has a sliver of importance. You... won’t use that time to hammer the nail deeper into my bleeding heart, right, Merlin?"

"I wouldn’t dare." Merlin stepped out of his spatial gate. Walking to her, his voice softened as he pointed at the side of the branch. "Can I..."

Mab nodded without conviction, her gaze still locked on the horizon.

He took a deep breath, moved his blue cape aside, and sat. A silence lingered for a few seconds, the night’s chilly wind ruffling his white hair. Then, he pinched the bridge of his nose and opened his lips.

"I can’t imagine how shaken you are, and I know words won’t make you feel better. Therefore, let’s not make it longer than it should... for both of us."

Mab raised a brow.

But he continued in a voice laden with suppressed emotions. "I’m sorry... for everything..."

He choked on his words, then stopped. The Lady of the Lake’s manipulation, his foolishness—he could mention them. But to what end? No, simple and clear, without evading responsibility. A little like Adam would have done.

After thinking about his happy years with her, he closed his eyes and opened his heart. "I won’t disturb you longer... Mom."

Mab shivered. How long had she longed to hear him call her like that again? But not in this situation.

Grief quickly overwhelmed the momentary thrill that had warmed her bitter heart as she forced a crooked smile, then fixed the horizon again.

Merlin rose to his feet and turned to leave, just as she sobbed softly, "Thank you."

"I’m the one thankful. Everything you did was to protect me, against myself, against my failures." He stared at the moon, the bittersweet memory of Camelot walls, lofty towers, and the Round Table filling his mind. "I only hope it’s not too late."

"It’s never too late," Mordred snorted beneath them. "And you dare call yourself a sage when you were blind to the truth? Pathetic." He shrugged. "But I guess you’re welcome on board, uncle."

"Uncle..." Merlin massaged his temples, shaking his head. "I guess it’s time we listened to each other’s stories." He glanced at Mab. "I mean, we’ll have time now. Take your time to recover, Mom."

As he joined the fairies’ restoration effort, Mab remained on her branch for several hours. She listened to the night’s silence, the sound of mana being weaved, and the subtle noises of nature. They had been vibrant once. Now they seemed dull.

Until dark flames ignited in the deeper hour of the night. They swirled before her, condensing into limbs, a torso, and a handsome face. Black and white hair moved with the wind, the red threads of a kimono of the same color dancing in front of draconic wings.

Adam cracked his neck, groaning. Fire seared his every cell, and the chill of death froze his marrow. And yet, his defiance against the gods burned brighter than ever.

"You’re back," Mab muttered.

He gazed at her frail posture, frowning. "I’m. I’d rather not die again, though." He flew to her. "How are you feeling? You got your revenge and realm back."

Her eyes narrowed at him before she sighed. "Mab’s fickleness knows..."

He cut her off. "No bounds. I know. But I also know that’s just your coping mechanism. Curious and seeking amusement, you are. And those are different, enjoyable even. We’re over that image you tried to build to protect your loving heart."

He stretched his hand toward her, and she took it with a quivering sob.

"Oberon..." Allowing herself a moment of weakness, she pressed her forehead to his torso and cried.

Warm tears smeared Adam’s kimono as he patted her trembling back. "I know. I tried to end him before you returned. Sorry you had to see that."

She shook her head. "I thought I was ready."

"A mother is never ready to see her son die." He winked. "At least, those that aren’t fickle."

Adam’s voice grew solemn. "I would have preferred a different end, but you heard him. He chose to curse you instead of me, even as I... you know the rest."

She continued to cry for a moment. Then, she pulled back and wiped her tears. "He’s not like Merlin or Mordred. He would have never changed. I’ve known it along. Death was the only answer. So, why does it still hurt?"

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know the answer better than I do."

She lingered for a second, her eyes slipping to Mordred below and Merlin in the distance. "Right."

With a nod, she forced out a smile and shifted to her grand speech pattern.

"You’ve upheld your end of the pact. As promised, your city is free to wander and claim the western lands. From this day forward, the fairies will call you allies—an honor few ever earn."

"But?" He grinned.

"My citizens need rest, guidance, and peace. Mab’s role in your divine war has reached its end."

A soft chuckle escaped his lips. "Guessed as much. Enjoy your time with your sons." He let her go and moved back. "I count on all of you to preserve my people."

Though Mab nodded, she bit her lips and frowned. "Are you sure you want to go now? Wait a few months, or even years. You’ll have better chances by then."

His gaze firmed as he turned. "The demon realm is not next door, Mab. And my patience is wearing thin. I must bring Luna back."

"The demon kings will feel your presence the moment you use your powers or bend space." She countered, her hands reaching toward his back.

"You should know better, that’s not stopping me. Rules, danger? We’re both chaotic: we try to grasp what we want, regardless."

She watched dark flames erupt from his body, closing her eyes. A genuine smile curved her lips when she reopened them. "I wish you the best of luck, then."

"Didn’t Tiamat tell you? I’m the unluckiest soul." He smirked as his wings sent scalding gales down. "Chaos doesn’t need luck or plans, only adaptability. And I’m a hellish nightmare when it comes to that. Goodbye, Mab."

He heard her chuckle as his figure cleaved through the clouds. The sky soon shifted into a starlit canvas filled with icy darkness—space.

Nine fiery jets erupted behind him, propelling him into its vast expanse and amidst the stars. His destination? The place where he had woken up and fled as a weak imp eleven years ago.

And now he would make it tremble as a chaotic divinity.

End of Volume 3