The Demon Lord and Mira settled into their seats at the opulent dining table, the polished surface gleaming under the light of crystalline chandeliers overhead. However, no chair had been prepared for Baphomet. He remained standing behind Mira, his coal-black eyes simmering with resentment at his exclusion.

  “My apologies,” Lexor said, his tone even as he inclined his head slightly toward the Demon Lord. “I was only informed of you and the girl. I did not make preparations for a fourth.” Unlike his usual appearances, Lexor had chosen not to conceal his face this time. His horrifically burned visage was fully exposed—his flesh mottled and scarred, a testament to the battles he had endured. It was rare for him to display his disfigurement, yet he seemed unaffected by the possibility of discomfort from his guests.

  The Demon Lord’s laughter broke the heavy air surrounding them, sharp and cruel. “This dog is the girl’s pet,” he sneered, glancing toward Baphomet with palpable disdain. “He will not be dining with us. Kneel, dog.”

  With barely a flicker of hesitation, Baphomet dropped to his knees beside the grand table, his gaze locked onto the Demon Lord. The ancient demon’s eyes burned with hate, though his expression betrayed little of the simmering rage within him.

  Mira watched the exchange quietly, her lips pressed together as she masked her emotions. She had begun to feel some sympathy for Baphomet over the past few days, their bond steadily growing through shared meals and reluctant conversations. His anger had seemed less volatile during their time together, replaced by something she had tentatively identified as an inkling of trust. But now, his rage had returned in full force, rekindled by the humiliating command to kneel and the malice in the Demon Lord’s words. Mira remained silent, unwilling to risk speaking against her master in Lexor’s presence.

  Lexor, meanwhile, chose not to pry into the evident animosity between the two demons. The tension between them was unmistakable, but it was not his place to question it. “I ordered a grand feast to be prepared for this evening,” Lexor said, his tone carefully balanced. “I asked if you had shown interest in any particular foods since your arrival, but my servants tell me they have been attending only to your companions. They say you’ve been rather silent, King.”

  The Demon Lord’s eyes flickered briefly with interest as the first trays of food were brought out, their exquisite presentation reflecting Verdince’s mastery of culinary art. “It is true,” he admitted, his voice carrying a note of dismissive calm. “I’ve been lost in my studies as of late. It is of no matter, though. My kind does not require food as humans do.”

  Lexor raised an eyebrow, the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I see. That does seem quite convenient. I trust the books provided to you have been enlightening?”

  “They have,” the Demon Lord replied simply. As the extravagant dishes were placed before them, Mira and the Demon Lord began their meals. This time, the Demon Lord chose to eat with more refinement, his movements deliberate and precise—a stark departure from his previous displays of savagery.

  “Let us not waste words,” the Demon Lord said, his crimson gaze sharp. “You wish to know of the angel I’ve captured.”

  Lexor’s smile widened, a mixture of curiosity and satisfaction lighting his scarred features. “Indeed,” he admitted. “Since you did not arrive with her, I can only assume you discovered her spying within my city. You have my thanks for apprehending her.”

  “It was a trivial matter,” the Demon Lord said, dismissing the angel’s capture with a wave of his hand. “You wish to know what I’ve learned from her, and had you not contacted me today, I would have sought you out myself.”

  Lexor doubted the latter claim, but he was not bold enough to challenge the Demon Lord directly. “You truly are an all-knowing King,” Lexor said, his tone laced with careful flattery. “Of course, I would request knowledge from you that I could not obtain myself.”

  The Demon Lord’s pride swelled visibly at the City Lord’s words, the compliment feeding his arrogance. “Then I suggest you start preparing,” he said, his tone shifting to one of smug superiority. “In one month, the God of Sun and his army will be knocking at your door.”

  Though Lexor had anticipated this revelation, he nodded thoughtfully, his expression grave. “I see. One month? We had heard whispers of the God’s movements and were already preparing for the worst. It seems we were right to do so.”

  He paused, contemplating his next question, but before he could speak, the Demon Lord interrupted. “Yes, I will lend you my power in the coming battle.”

  Lexor’s smile returned, and he relaxed slightly as he continued eating. The Demon Lord’s words were a confirmation of hope—not just for the city’s survival but for the opportunity to witness the King of Hell’s unrivaled strength once more. “Then you shall once again be the hero this city knows you to be,” Lexor said smoothly. “You have my thanks.”

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  As the meal continued, the tension in the room eased slightly. The Demon Lord and Lexor exchanged light banter about past battles, their conversation weaving tales of valor and strategy. Mira listened in silence, her emerald eyes wide with fascination as she absorbed their stories. Despite her lack of participation, her presence was unmistakable—a reminder of the human connection the Demon Lord had begun to nurture, even if only reluctantly.

  Baphomet, however, remained kneeling beside the table, his black eyes fixed on the scene before him. The food on the table, the camaraderie between Lexor and the Demon Lord, and the silent observation of Mira—all of it fanned the flames of his jealousy. He hated being excluded, hated the ridicule he endured, and hated the bond that seemed to be forming between Mira and the Demon Lord. Yet, for all his anger, he remained where he was, his centuries-old pride keeping him from rising or speaking out.

  The stars above Verdince glittered faintly as the evening wore on, the dining hall alive with tension, ambition, and unspoken truths. The stage was set for the battles to come, and each player took their place in preparation for the unfolding chaos.

  The Archdemons approached the inconspicuous bunker in the heart of Verdince, its unassuming exterior belying the grand secret hidden deep below. Shielded by the veil of night, they moved with the precision and unmatched speed of their kind, slipping effortlessly past the watchful guards stationed outside. Without making a sound, they descended into the bunker, entering the yawning mineshaft that spiraled into the depths beneath the city. The journey took them into a labyrinth of darkness—a maze of narrow passages riddled with traps and patrolled by soldiers. Yet, none posed a challenge to the Archdemons; their superior abilities rendered the defenses trivial, and they navigated the perilous underground with ease.

  As they ventured deeper into the labyrinth, a faint glow began to shimmer in the distance, growing brighter with each step. Finally, they arrived at the source of the light: the Emerald Tree. Its grandeur left them awestruck, surpassing even their most vivid imaginations. Standing ten stories tall, the tree radiated an aura of mystic energy, its massive trunk and branches shimmering with a continuous cascade of emerald dust. Surrounding the tree were countless crystals that sparkled brilliantly, refracting light into dazzling arrays. At the base of the Emerald Tree lay a large magic ring, etched with intricate runes infused with divine and arcane energy. The entire scene was otherworldly, a breathtaking monument to the power anchoring the city’s formidable barrier.

  As the Archdemons gazed upon the tree, they were struck by an unfamiliar sensation—a new form of energy pulsing through the air. It was unlike anything they had encountered before. Neither arcane, divine, nor demonic in origin, it possessed an innate purity and connection to the world itself. They soon realized it was World Energy—a force unique to this realm and completely absent from Hell. The faint traces of World Energy that permeated the mortal world now seemed vividly present, their awareness heightened by the Emerald Tree’s overwhelming presence. This revelation deepened their understanding of the world’s mysteries, its energy woven into the fabric of life.

  Moving with meticulous care, the Archdemons slipped past the final guards stationed around the chamber, ensuring that Ciel remained protected as he approached the Emerald Tree. As one of Hell’s finest sorcerers, Ciel was tasked with examining and deciphering the magic surrounding the tree, a task he undertook with intense focus. For a time, everything appeared to proceed smoothly. Ciel worked methodically, his sharp intellect guiding him through the complex interplay of energies emanating from the tree and the surrounding magic ring.

  But as he delved deeper, something shifted. His gaze lingered on the shimmering core of the Emerald Tree, his focus growing uncharacteristically still. Slowly, his eyes began to change—their usual purple hue morphing into a brilliant green, glowing with an unnatural intensity. Insight, attuned to the subtlest shifts in energy, immediately sensed that something was amiss. The tree’s immense power had begun to overwhelm Ciel’s mind, threatening to consume him entirely. Acting swiftly, Insight grabbed him and ripped him away from the tree’s influence. Her quick intervention shattered the concealment spell that had cloaked their movements, creating a commotion that echoed through the chamber.

  Ciel, now consumed by rage, turned on his companions with a ferocity none of them had anticipated. His movements were wild, his once-calculating demeanor replaced by uncontrollable madness. He lashed out with volatile magic, the green glow in his eyes pulsing as if the World Energy itself was fueling his anger. Greed reacted without hesitation, summoning her golden magic and encasing Ciel in a radiant prison of solid gold. The golden shackles bound his movements and suppressed his outbursts, rendering him powerless.

  Meanwhile, Insight reinstated her concealment spell, but the damage had already been done. The noise from Ciel’s struggle had alerted the guards stationed nearby, and the sound of hurried footsteps began to fill the chamber. The Archdemons, aware that their time had run out, fled swiftly, their movements precise and unwavering despite the chaos unfolding around them. With Ciel securely imprisoned and their concealment reestablished, they escaped the labyrinth and ascended to the surface, leaving behind the mysteries of the Emerald Tree.

  Returning to the City Lord’s tower, the Archdemons reconvened, their expressions heavy with the weight of failure. Their mission had unraveled disastrously, and Ciel had succumbed to the power of the Emerald Tree, his mind reduced to madness. Now, they prepared themselves to face the Demon Lord—knowing full well that his wrath at this turn of events would be formidable. Despite their best efforts, they had failed to uncover the secrets of the barrier, and the consequences of their failure loomed ominously over them. For now, they awaited their King’s judgment, the atmosphere thick with dread and anticipation.