Imp to Demon King: A Journey of Conquest

Ignoring the demon tailing him, Adam’s eyes widened at the streets. They sprawled like spiderwebs, smoke rising from establishments reeking of pungent alcohol, and delicacies of another kind—the same Ozymandias had enjoyed with Wukong years ago.

Succubi waved at him, winking their bright green eyes as they pointed at their leather tops. His eyes followed their fingers to a mesmerising maze of sinful curves and flawless skin any mortal would sell his soul to indulge in. One more endearing than her colleague even moved her tongue between two fingers, then licked her lips, and gestured with her head to the building’s doorway.

Adam observed her for a second, then another. His brow twitched, and his lips pursed while he face-palmed.

’As if I’d enter...’ He walked past the brothels with hurried steps. Yet, his eyes drifted a few times to the succubi. ’What? I enjoy art, and their bodies enter that category with flying colors.’

He massaged his brow. ’Sure—art. Who are you kidding? Luna’s the only one. And I’m finding her.’

A steely glint flashed in his eyes as he observed the stalls flanking the streets. Demonic meat lay on boards. He couldn’t identify from what beast it had come—if it even came from beasts and not slain demons in the first place—but their greyish surface, and the stench of rancid blood made him scrunch his nose.

’I’d better not... try this. Bless Litia and her foresight.’

Fresh meat from his territory’s best farmer filled his magic cube. Of course, he also prepared water, vegetables, and spices for this journey. Well, eating had become more of a pleasure than a necessity now since he had learned to feed on fire and chaos particles. Still, he didn’t want to lose everything that had once made him mortal.

He passed in front of clandestine casinos next, frowning. How were they clandestine with press-gang enticing passersby and glowing signs even a mole wouldn’t miss?

"Hey, handsome!"

Tsk. One of them noticed him.

"How about trying your luck? We have the city’s best prize of the day." A genuine smile curved the purple demon’s lips as he tucked the tentacles serving as his hair behind his ear in an unsettling spectacle. "Who knows? You might become its lucky owner!"

Adam rolled his eyes. "The best prize, like in the last five casinos? No, thank you. However, you can help me with something else. I’m looking for the underground arena. You know? The one where only big shots gather."

The demon towered two heads over Adam, raising a brow. "Oh? A little demon like you? With our city’s big shots? Hahaha!" He slapped his leg. "Your wording is amusing. Why don’t you just say you want to register as a fighter?"

"A fighter?" Adam tucked his fingers around his chin. "I guess you can see it like that."

"Man..." The demon shook his head. "Losing to someone who’s trying even harder to lose isn’t really my kind of... thing. That’s the worst job you know? Well, after being a demon noble’s toy, one of their slaves, an expedition member, an innocent farmer..."

He paused, pushing his lip with a finger.

"Doesn’t sound like the worst job anymore, hey? Anyway, how about joining the casino instead? You have potential. Allure, even with your dark and white hair and scarlet and blue eyes. Ladies will surely flock to your table to splurge on random bets without counting for a chance to appreciate..." His lips curled into a broad smirk. "Or try to claim such a cutie. I tried too, but I don’t know why they prefer human-styled faces."

Adam sized up the demon’s ugly face and grotesque body, fighting the itch in his throat. ’Look at yourself. Who in their right mind would want to talk to you when you’re the perfect embodiment of a monster from children’s bedtime stories?’

Instead, he coughed into his fist, forcing a smile. "I’m afraid I must decline your kind offer, friend. The arena is dangerous, but the rewards are worth the risk."

The demon scratched his head awkwardly. "A pity, but I guess you got a point—if you’re skilled enough, that is." He pointed to a circular building that pierced the city center with stone windows that let subtle screams of agony slip out. "That’s the underground arena. You can fight on the second floor after registering on the first."

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you sure that’s the underground arena?"

"As sure as one can be." The demon waved his hand. "I must return to work. I wish you luck in your future battles. Don’t forget to visit our casino if you win!"

Massaging his temples, Adam watched the demon approach other passersby and continued toward the building. Yet, he couldn’t help but grumble. "Underground. It’s in the name. So, how is it on the second floor? Are all demons nuts, or do they reverse everything on purpose?"

With a sigh, he walked toward the building, hearing the screams a little louder with each step taken. The scent of blood intensified, too, and yet the sea of demons filling the arena’s plaza only laughed or cursed about the fortune they had made or lost betting on the contestants.

He approached one of the betting booths’ line, intrigued by how it worked.

Before he could, a hand gripped his shoulder from behind. Turning, he saw the demon who had been tailing him shake his head, then smile.

"Meeting you just as I thought I’d relax before a match during my break must be fate. And I guess your fate, little friend, is filled with good fortune since I stopped you before you made an unfortunate mistake." The demon licked his lips. "Forget about betting, or let me handle it. You see, I have a few... relations operating beside the arena. They’ll give us the best odds and a few tips about the fighters."

Without waiting for an answer, he pushed Adam’s shoulder toward a side alley, laughing. "Let’s make a fortune together..."

However, his words caught in his throat as Adam didn’t budge an iota. He pushed until his muscles burned and his veins bulged beneath his skin. Still no movement. How?

He gulped, his eyes darting to Adam’s face, only for his own to lose colors and his teeth to clatter. The scarlet and blue eyes; the subtle essence flowing out of them; the intensity of the glare as if he were no more than an ant in front of an ancient demonic titan. He had seen it. The glare of someone who could kill him in a heartbeat. fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

The glare of death.