The Royal Capital Re-Estize Had Become Hell

Without a shadow of doubt, that is what it had become.

A horde of demons appeared without warning, seizing the skies, while fiends and monstrosities swarmed across the earth.

Even the most conservative estimate placed their numbers at forty or fifty — and that was enough to drown the capital in pandemonium.

How could such a thing have come to pass? Could the Eight Fingers have orchestrated this? Impossible. However cruel and vile those human criminals may be, they are still human. To create such a hellscape… no, this was far beyond their means.

Could it be that they were demons in human skin all along?

Evileye's heart clenched with despair, her gaze falling.

Walls of black flame roared and scattered, and within them, two silhouettes twisted and danced as if in some grotesque waltz — only to collapse lifelessly, discarded like trash upon the ground.

They were not the only ones. Throughout the capital, fire bloomed and vanished, and each eruption marked the end of yet another brilliant life. As the flames dispersed, no survivors rose. No movement. No breath.

"A-ah…"

From beneath her mask, golden strands of hair tumbled loose, but Evileye did not even think to fix them. Her lips quivered with a suppressed groan, the primal urge to rush forward restrained only by sheer force of will.

It was unthinkable — and yet she could not deny it. The black fire had surpassed her own highest-tier spells by several magnitudes. Her two comrades had been caught in it and slain outright, without even the chance to resist.

She bit down on her grief, strangling the scream rising in her throat.

Gagaran. Tia. If only they had not interfered…

Since the beginning of the Eight Fingers suppression mission, they had split to attack separate strongholds. But then, Gagaran stumbled upon it — a monster in the form of a young girl, feasting upon human flesh.

Perhaps if they had simply let it go… but no. That was not Gagaran. Before such a creature, her burning sense of justice would never allow retreat.

Yet justice does not always align with strength, nor does it guarantee victory. This world teems with horrors beyond the reach of human ideals and power.

They might have managed to fell the cannibalistic insect-maid, but… that was not the end.

'Now then… would you not say that is quite enough?'

The words were spoken like a line from a play — polite, theatrical.

And the true nightmare stepped onto the stage.

A demon clad in an obscenely gaudy crimson tailcoat, a grotesque mask concealing its face, and a chitinous tail clicking ominously against the ground.

From the moment it appeared, everything unraveled.

"I had intended to stop just before snuffing out your lives, but alas… you are far too fragile. To perish in mere flames… I offer you my condolences."

The masked demon even bowed its head as though in mourning, though its tone brimmed with mockery.

Theatrical, insincere, dripping with contempt.

Evileye's hands trembled with rage. But she knew — it was useless. Even if she unleashed everything, she would not so much as scratch this thing.

In her 250 years, she had faced countless warriors, but never had she felt an aura like this — a foul, choking miasma of malice and dread. It rivaled even the might of the Platinum Dragon Lord. Perhaps even more.

Gagaran, grown stronger through relentless training, and Tia, swift and deadly — neither had stood a chance. The demon swatted them aside like insects, engulfing them in hellfire with a mere flick of its hand.

What could she do? What could she do?! Teleportation was sealed. Flight was futile.

Even retrieving the bodies for resurrection seemed impossible; the maid that had fled was surely proof the demon would not allow it.

No options. No hope.

And yet, she had to try.

"[Penetrate · Maximize Magic: Crystal Dagger!]"

From her hand, a colossal crystalline blade was conjured and launched. This spell, a weaponized form of pure physical force, was designed to bypass magic nullification, enhanced with penetration magic to pierce resistance.

But the demon did not evade. Instead, it spread its arms wide — as if to welcome the attack.

The dagger struck with all her might, imbued with every drop of her mana, driven to its utmost potential.

And yet…

"Hm. Was that all?"

The demon's voice oozed amusement.

"......Even after breaking through its defenses, there's no damage? Just what kind of demon is this? Could it be stronger than even a Demon God? No… could it be a Demon King!?"

Attaching "King" to a Demon God didn't automatically mean power, but it was undeniably a mark of elevation. A demon beyond anything she had ever seen, surpassing even the Demon Gods—what else could one call it but a Demon King?

For Evileye, it was an overwhelming force far beyond her capacity to endure. She herself had once been called a legendary demon, but the being before her existed on an entirely different plane.

"Then, at the very least......"

"Ah… ahhh...…"

Only a despairing moan escaped her lips. Evileye abandoned hope of survival. At the very least, if she could draw the demon's attention away, perhaps she could preserve the bodies of her fallen comrades.

A fleeting thought urged her to call for help, but she dismissed it immediately. No one could withstand a creature of such power.

And then—a sudden gust of wind.

The rushing air forced her eyes shut, making her forget she even wore a mask. Death felt inevitable. To close her eyes before such a monster—what a foolish, fatal mistake.

But instead, the storm wrapped around her like a protective embrace.

"…Ah?"

Startled, she realized she was no longer standing alone. She had been swept into a powerful set of arms, a broad chest and thick arms that made her small frame seem weightless.

Evileye instinctively looked up.

Past the towering chest and corded muscles, her gaze met the face—rough, stern, almost brutish—of the man she had encountered months ago. The man who had stirred fear in her heart then… but now, in this moment of despair, he was the most reliable figure she could imagine.

The strongest in the present age. The strongest in the world.

"Patriarch… Lord Monkeyspanner?"

"Mm. Strange timing, I know. But first—good to see you alive, Evileye."

His smile was as fearsome and wolfish as ever, yet somehow, she found it warm… comforting.

Here stood the head of a great clan, Monkeyspanner El Dragondream—the strongest man in the world.

"You couldn't have… known about this demon's appearance, could you?"

"Details later. For now, stay quiet."

With unexpected gentleness, Monkeyspanner set her down. Evileye stiffened under his careful handling, unsure of how to react. But the man wasted no time—stepping forward, placing his broad back before her as if to shield her from all harm.

"Hmm. Done with your reunion?"

"Aye, demon. Now tell me, what filth like you is doing here?"

The demon's theatrical tone clashed with Monkeyspanner's blunt defiance.

Evileye, watching from behind his back, trembled. Before her stood the strongest human alive, unshaken even before this abyssal foe.

"Unexpected, to encounter someone like you here," the demon admitted, voice tightening. "And I cannot say I welcome it."

"Not my problem. Don't like it? Then leave."

"…Truly barbaric. Do you not know courtesy?"

"Courtesy? You cause all this carnage, then dare speak of courtesy?"

His words were rough, his tone boisterous, but his presence shook the ground.

Evileye felt her heart pound. Was it the authority of his clan? No… it was his raw, unmatched strength. He might be younger than she by centuries, but his presence alone was overwhelming. For the first time in ages, she felt something foreign—security.

Logically, she knew even the patriarch of such a mighty clan should be nothing more than a thicker sheet of paper before this demon's overwhelming power. If he stood in the way, he too would be swept aside. And yet—

Somewhere deep within her heart, a dangerous thought flickered. Perhaps this man could actually do it.

Embarrassed at her own emotional weakness, Evileye stepped back, unwilling to distract him. If needed, she would fight alongside him, but for now—she would simply pray.

And pray she did.

"Enough of this barbarism. I have no more time for you—"

"Good. Neither do I."

The demon's words were cut short as a tremendous gale exploded outward.

CRASH!

The sound of something being pulverized echoed.

In an instant, the "wall" that had been Monkeyspanner's back vanished, replaced by a blur of motion. The massive man moved like a storm, his strike sending both himself and the demon hurtling across the battlefield.

Monkyspanner's fist remained outstretched as he pressed his charge. The demon staggered but—shockingly—rose unscathed, snarling. Its tail clattered with fury as a pair of grotesque wings unfurled from its back.

"I had intended to withdraw gracefully, but you truly force my hand…!"

"Then bring it, you bastard. I'm truly angry now!"

The air trembled. The ground quaked as though an earthquake had struck. But no—it was the shockwave of Monkyspanner's punch reverberating through stone and steel.

Evileye could only widen her eyes. She had intended to fight, but this… this was a battlefield beyond her reach. All she could do was retreat, clasp her hands, and pray.

Pray that the protector of mankind, the strongest man in the world, would strike down the demon and restore peace.

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