CHAPTER 30: REPORT

The black tower stood like a spear in the middle of the volcanic wasteland. Its walls rumbled as the demoness returned, dropping speed only at the final second before landing on the balcony. The bundle of wreckage—pieces of wing, the broken dish, and the humming box—hung on her back like trophies.

Two armored demons guarding the hall stepped aside immediately. Nobody stopped her. Nobody would dare.

She walked straight to the throne room.

The Demon King sat on his massive seat of dark stone, one arm resting on the armrest, the Eye of Tiamantara burning above him with its usual restless glow. His presence alone felt like pressure pushing against the air.

The demoness knelt before him.

"My lord," she said.

He did not turn his head. "You have returned quickly. Report."

She straightened and placed the bundle on the floor. "The flying thing you sensed is destroyed. I found its remains in the southern fissure fields."

Now the Demon King shifted slightly.

"Describe it."

"It is a machine," she answered. "But not one built by dwarves or any race we know. It has no mana core, no life essence, no enchanted parts. Everything inside is... non-magical."

The Demon King’s eyes narrowed. "Non-magical? Even dwarven devices have embedded runes. Their gears are engraved. Their engines are powered by heat-cores. You are certain this one has nothing of the sort?"

"Completely certain," she said firmly. "I studied its inside. It runs on something else. Not magic. Not spirit energy. It moved without mana. And there was no pilot."

The hall went quiet.

"No pilot?" the Demon King repeated.

"It was controlled from somewhere else," she continued. "Remotely."

That word made even the shadows in the room seem to stop moving.

The Demon King slowly leaned forward. "Show me."

The demoness opened the shadows that wrapped the wreckage and revealed the pieces one by one. First, the long damaged wing. Then the broken circular dish. Then the humming, finned box that once belonged deep inside the fuselage.

The Demon King stood from his throne.

He never stood without reason.

He approached the wreckage and inspected the broken dish first.

"This," he muttered, "looks like an eye."

"A mechanical eye," the demoness clarified. "It faced forward. I believe it is how the machine ’saw.’ The clarity of its sight was strong. It tracked me easily."

The Demon King touched the shattered edge of the dish and frowned. "It is hollow. No mana threads. No crystal lens. No spellwork."

He set it down and moved to the wing piece.

"This material... is hard," he said, running his hand along it. "But not metal. And not bone."

"It is some kind of artificial plate," the demoness said. "Very light. Very strong. Not forged by hammer. It was shaped."

"And this?" he asked, tapping the humming box.

"This was its heart," she replied. "Or its core. It powered parts of the craft. I do not know how. I tried to sense magic from it—there was nothing."

The Demon King stared at it for a long moment.

"Not dwarven," he finally said.

"No, my lord," she answered immediately. "Dwarven machines always leave trace signatures. Their cogs always carry spell-stamps. Their engines are always fueled by crystal heat or rune fire. This machine has none of that. Not one rune. Not one spellmark. Nothing."

He crossed his arms over his chest.

"Then what race could have made this?"

She shook her head. "I do not know. This is new."

The Demon King’s voice lowered. "New... and concerning."

"Tell me," he said, "what was its purpose?"

"I believe it was meant for reconnaissance," she replied. "Observation. It had no weapons. No armor. Only that eye on the front. It flew high—far higher than any dragon could. And it was watching our territory."

The Demon King frowned deeper.

"So someone is spying on us."

"That is my conclusion," she said.

"And whoever made this thing," the Demon King said, "has the ability to build machines that fly without magic... and from far away control them beyond the line of sight."

"Yes," she said, "and they can build them at a scale that lets them reach our domain. That means they have range. Distance. Perhaps more of these machines."

Silence thickened in the hall.

Slowly, the Demon King returned to his throne and lowered himself onto it.

"This world," he said, "has its usual powers. Elves with their forests. Dwarves with their mountains. Humans with their armies. All manageable. All predictable."

His eyes shifted to the wreck again.

"But this is not any of them."

"No, my lord," the demoness agreed.

The Demon King tapped his fingers against the armrest.

"Have you sensed any trace of a summoning? A portal? Any sign of divine interference?"

"No," she answered. "There was no teleport residue. No spell signature. The machine seemed completely foreign. As if it came from outside the patterns of this world."

The Demon King breathed out slowly.

"Then we are dealing with outsiders."

The demoness bowed her head slightly.

"What are your orders, my lord?"

The Demon King raised one hand and pointed south.

"Find their origin."

The demoness blinked. "You want me to go into foreign nations?"

"Yes," he said. "If someone on this continent is creating these machines, I want to know who. If something from outside our world has entered, I want to know how. And if a race with unknown technology is watching us... I will not allow them to observe freely."

The demoness straightened her posture. "Do you wish me to infiltrate them?"

"Yes," he answered. "Infiltrate. Investigate. And understand their intentions."

The demoness bowed deeply, wings folding neatly behind her.

"As you command."

"Use the wreckage," he continued. "Learn how it works. Carry those parts into the mortal nations. Present yourself only when necessary—but avoid direct conflict. I want information, not corpses."

She nodded. "Understood."

"And one more thing," the Demon King added, voice dropping lower.

The demoness looked up.

"If they send another one of these flying eyes... destroy it. Instantly. You already proved you can."

A small smile flickered across her lips. "That is easy, my lord."

"Good," he said. "Then go."

She gathered the wreckage back into the shadow-straps and rose. Without another word, she turned and walked toward the balcony once more.

Her mission was clear.

Find whoever controlled the metal bird.

Uncover their strength.

And determine whether they were enemies... or something far worse.

As the demoness took flight, the Demon King leaned back in his throne, expression unreadable.

"This world changes," he muttered to himself. "Something new has arrived..."

His eyes narrowed.

"...and I will not be caught unprepared."