Imp to Demon King: A Journey of Conquest

Before the plasma blade could erupt in all its blazing glory, however, Astaroth raised his palm and shook his head.

"Do not doubt our strength, least of all our intelligence. You’re more powerful than us. But that’s merely on paper. We’re ancient—a team that has survived the universe’s darkest age, where tiers or divinity meant nothing. Only survival mattered. And to survive, we’ve battled gods and demons, impaled angels, and witnessed devils rise, then fall."

He pointed his finger at the God Slayer, smirking as the other three demon nobles rose from the sofa. "Believe it or not, we can repel you. And to put your head on a spike, all we’d need is to drag the fight out for five seconds. I’m sure Vinéa would rush back with Paimon, Zagan, and Balam."

His voice turned into a slow whisper, insidious—tempting. "Yet, we didn’t. We have other plans."

Icy sweat dripped down Adam’s back as his knuckles whitened around his God Slayer’s hilt. Was it really time for hesitation? But they were right, experienced, and probably had more than one card up their sleeves.

’Shit.’ He liked neither option. They got him in this dilemma, not even a day after infiltrating the demon realm. His God Slayer hilt trembled slightly, the plasma not erupting.

Instead, he clenched his jaw, his suppressed voice echoing. "Your plans matter not. Tell me how you knew, or I’ll take the chance, then leave the realm." Shadows danced on his face. "With your four heads as trophies."

Silence hung between the two sides, heavy, suffocating. He glared at them, facing the same scorn in their gaze as if they were waiting for that slight spark to blow everything into a titanic confrontation.

Until Astaroth chuckled and sat back down on the sofa.

He watched the crowned prince of hell twirl his glass of wine before the demon’s voice cut through the room. "It seems your reputation and fortitude aren’t pure fantasy." He patted the sofa. "Very few ever earned a seat at our table—you’re one of them. Oh, you can join us, Pruflas."

A shriek echoed as orange flames condensed on the ceiling. They swirled, extending and condensing into a fiery bird of prey with sharp, bony talons and a charred skeleton visible through the blaze.

Adam’s eyes widened. So, one had lain in ambush all along, bringing the demon nobles’ numbers to five.

As the realisation settled in, the bird landed on the table. "Interesting. He knows not to act on impulse. I say our chances of succeeding have soared."

Astaroth nodded. "Indeed." Then, he turned to Adam, his elegant voice filling the lounge. "Didn’t you want answers? Your seat is waiting."

Frowning, Adam lowered his God Slayer and sat.

Instantly, Aamon snorted. "How did we know, was it? I can’t believe that’s your first question. Everyone would have known if not for our timely intervention."

Barbatos gulped from his glass, nodding. "Though the barrier sealing our realm originally kept us locked, it became something else over time." He poured two other glasses, then slid one toward Adam. "The kings monitor it at all times. Even a disturbance as small as a needle prickling its surface can’t escape their attention."

"You felt it, too, then..." Tucking his fingers around his chin, Adam muttered.

He gazed at the glass of burgundy wine. The scent wafting to his nostrils didn’t help his clenched fists loosen in the slightest. ’What a great infiltration. They saw me coming from the beginning. Shit!’

Hissing through gritted teeth, he asked. "Why didn’t they intercept me?"

Rashaverak sneered in rebuttal. "The kings don’t want anyone to leave—anyone. We didn’t feel you pierce the barrier. What we did, however, is to create a big enough commotion to drown your amateurish infiltration."

"The more you talk, the less sense it makes." Adam clicked his tongue. "How could you drown it out if you never felt it in the first place?"

Pruflas tilted his head, opening his obsidian beak to let out a high-pitched voice. "Why would we need to feel you when we’ve followed your every step, battle, and conquest for eleven years?"

Blood drained from Adam’s face, and sweat stuck his kimono to his back. How did they spy on him for eleven years when even demon kings couldn’t? Gods couldn’t glimpse at him either, ever since he became untethered by fate. Yet, this bunch of demon nobles, far weaker than Baal, Zeus, or Odin, could?

"Nonsense."

"It’s not." Astaroth shrugged. "Don’t you own an inconspicuous, yet useful item? Why not give it another read?"

"I have many items... No..."

Lips twisted, voice cracking, he gripped the metallic cylinder at his belt. His sweaty fingers trembled as he uncorked it and pulled out a smooth parchment. Holding the blank canvas, he focused on it, pupils constricted, sweat dripping down his temples, until the information window appeared in a burst of dark flames.

Abyssal Wayfinder

Introduction:

A map created by the powerful infernal duke Astaroth and his supporters: Aamon, Barbatos, Rashaverak and Pruflas.

They cursed it together to punish any creature who dared to use it but demons.

Rarity: Mythical

Level Requirement: /

Abilities:

Real-Time Mapping: The map will display its wielder’s surroundings up to 60.000 kilometers. It reveals anything, including but not limited to ancient ruins, underground minerals, and natural treasures through Barbatos’ and Rashaverak’s enchantments. Astaroth added another enchantment to display the names above them.

Contract-Bound: Aamon enchanted this item to make it indestructible and unlosable. The only way to get rid of it is by selling it to someone willing to buy it.

Infernal Shroud: Through Pruflas’ abilities to conjure illusions, the map grants its wielder the ability to escape any detection spells up to the eighth tier for regular species. It goes up to the demon king rank for demons since they didn’t like their praying eyes.

"You’re kidding me." He let the map slide from his fingers, his jaw clenching in anger, disbelief, and self-blame. Their five names were there: written in bold letters as if mocking him for his oversight. "You’ve been monitoring me since the beginning."

Astaroth’s eyes narrowed. "We only stated that other demons and kings couldn’t detect you, not that we couldn’t. You may feel betrayed, or perhaps foolish. But wasn’t the infernal shroud and real-time mapping of tremendous help? It was a transaction—a contract. Protection for information."

His green eyes blazed, his voice growing somber. "And now, it’s time to make a new one."