"Long live the Demon King."
"Long live our savior."
What Gregory saw before him was an army. The greater part of them were demons, marching in perfect unison as their voices rose into the air in a thunderous chant.
Horns of many shapes crowned their heads, and their tall figures were clad in worn armor of dark metal, most of it black with faint traces of purple woven through its design. In form they resembled men, yet their crimson skin, towering height, and the presence of horns set them apart as something altogether different.
They carried weapons of every kind, their steps steady and unwavering.
Among their ranks were not demons alone. Dark elves, humans, and beastmen marched beneath the same banner, moving forward as one.
"What is this…?" Gregory murmured, his voice scarcely more than a breath.
The army advanced with a relentless rhythm, as though it meant to burn an entire kingdom to ashes. Gregory found himself standing directly in their path, yet he could not move. One by one, the soldiers passed straight through him as if he were nothing more than air.
He could only watch.
Amid that vast sea of marching figures, one presence stood apart.
At the very rear of the formation stood a single demon whose aura seemed to stir the very air. He wore full black armor, and from his helmet rose two long, sharp horns, the metal shaped to allow them passage. His face was completely concealed.
Yet from the weight of that presence alone, Gregory knew.
There was no mistaking it.
The figure was the very being he had long admired and wondered about.
It was the Demon King.
Suddenly, Gregory felt his body being pulled along with the march. He drifted through the air, weightless and light, as if gravity had lost its hold on him. He could not resist, nor could he stop himself. He was carried forward like a breath borne upon the wind.
At last, the march came to an end.
In an instant, Gregory found himself standing between two great forces that were about to meet in battle. The place was a wide valley, flanked by twin mountains that rose on either side. He recognized it at once from the histories he had read.
This was the place of the Demon King's final defeat.
The place of his death.
The Valley of Grace.
Soon another army appeared from the opposite side. It was the force of the Hero's party and their allied host, just as numerous as the Demon King's.
Their ranks were made up of humans, wood elves, beastmen, and dwarves. At their front marched the heroes themselves, leading their army forward.
As their enemies drew near, the Demon King's army parted into two, opening a path down the center. Their king stepped forward and walked along the road they had made.
As he passed, every soldier turned toward him and fell to one knee in silent respect.
"This is truly magnificent," Gregory whispered in awe.
What he witnessed did not feel forced or born of fear. The respect shown to the Demon King came from something deeper. He could feel it. It was not merely reverence for power, but admiration that rose sincerely from the heart.
His eyes grew moist as he watched the Demon King walk proudly between his soldiers, a figure of quiet majesty moving through a sea of loyalty.
At last, the Demon King stood before his army and faced the heroes and the allied forces that had gathered for the sole purpose of ending his life.
At the mere sight of him, fear spread like a chill through the ranks of the alliance. Their spirits faltered. For years they had heard only stories carried by rumor and legend, yet now their eyes beheld the being himself, and the weight of his presence pressed upon them in heavy silence.
From among the heroes, a man stepped forward.
He was Adnin, the leader of the party.
With steady hands, he drew a sword from his waist. The blade shone in a deep ocean blue, its edge illuminated by a pure and gentle light. Raising it high with both hands, he declared,
"Do not be afraid. The gods are with us. My companions and I stand as proof that the gods walk beside us. We will prevail, and here and now we shall slay the Demon King."
As his voice faded, the clear light from the sword spread outward, washing over every soldier behind him. A protective radiance formed around the entire alliance. The fear that had gripped them vanished, and their resolve returned beneath that sacred glow.
Gregory then saw the Demon King move.
The only thing he did was draw his sword from its sheath.
The blade was black, so dark it seemed as though he held night itself in his hand.
Though the motion was simple, the world answered. The sky, once bright and open, grew dim as heavy clouds gathered and swallowed the sun. Even the light could not pierce through the thickening veil above.
Then the Demon King raised his right hand.
The moment it rose, the vast sea of soldiers behind him responded in perfect unison, their voices echoing across the valley.
"Long live the Demon King!"
At once the ground trembled. Dust rose into the air as both armies surged forward together, like two great waves rushing to collide.
For Gregory, this was the first time he had witnessed how a Demon King commanded his forces in war. Every movement, every signal, every silent order carved itself into his mind. What he saw felt less like a memory and more like a lesson being written directly into his thoughts.
And as he stood there, carried along by a sight he could neither escape nor control, a question finally rose from within him.
"What am I doing here…?"
In a single instant, the vision of the battle at the Valley of Grace shattered like glass striking the floor.
Once again Gregory felt himself being pulled, but this time not toward the marching army of the Demon King. Instead, he was drawn upward into the sky.
The force carried him faster than any galloping horse, faster even than a falling star. Heat surged through his body, his vision burned, and his skin felt as though it were set aflame. A crushing pressure followed, driving pain deep into his limbs and chest.
There was nothing he could do but endure.
The blinding light grew stronger until it swallowed his sight entirely, and at last he shut his eyes, hoping only that the torment would soon end. Time seemed to stretch without measure as he continued to feel himself dragged upward, his body trembling beneath the strain.
At last, gathering what courage he had left, Gregory slowly opened his eyes.
Above him was a ceiling he knew well. It was the same ceiling he saw each night before sleep and each morning upon waking.
It was the ceiling of his own room.
He jolted upright from his bed, his breath uneven.
"What?… Was that a dream? Why did it feel so real?"
As he checked his body, he found himself drenched in sweat. The pain had followed him out of the vision, lingering faintly in his muscles. He moved his arms and shoulders, testing himself. Everything seemed normal, yet his chest still rose and fell rapidly.
While he struggled to steady his breathing, a window of information quietly appeared at his side, words forming upon it.
[ System Notice ]
Congratulations.
You have become the new heir of the Demon King.
Through this system you can become strong just like the Demon King.
Gregory stared at it in disbelief.
"What is this? Am I just hallucinating?"
He waved his hands through the strange floating text, yet his fingers met nothing at all, as if there were only empty air before him.
"A system…? What does that even mean?" he muttered.
As soon as he spoke, the window shifted, its contents changing.
[ System Notice ]
You will also obtain the skill to summon Demon King's army.
The moment Gregory read those lines, his gaze froze.
His thoughts returned to the sight he had just witnessed, to the Demon King commanding his forces upon the battlefield. What impressed him most was not the command itself, but the way the soldiers carried it out with flawless precision, as though they placed their faith in him above life and death.
"Is this… real?" he murmured.
The thought of standing in that same position, of commanding an army as formidable as the one he had seen, sent a chill along his spine.
To test himself, Gregory struck both of his cheeks lightly, once and then again, hoping to wake from what he still believed might be a dream.
But the system remained before him, unmoved and unchanged.
Whether it was a blessing granted by the gods or a lingering will of the Demon King himself, he could not tell.
Yet one thing was certain.
This strange system, whatever its origin, would become a powerful aid in the war that was surely to come.
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