Interlude- The Demon King

The doors to the throne room opened, revealing an expansive chamber bathed in dim violet hues and illuminated by floating lanterns, each flickering with light.

The polished floors mirrored the ornate architecture, casting reflections of the empty chamber. Devoid of statues but not in any way not elite.

At the far end of the room, upon an elevated dais. There stood a single throne.

Demon Lord Envoy Paimon walked forward, her footsteps echoing through the vast space. 

Upon reaching a respectful distance from the throne, she kneeled elegantly to one knee, bowing her head deeply.

"Great Demon King," she began, her voice steady and composed, "I bring news that, as of now, four Demon Lord Envoys have been defeated. Their cores have been extracted and seized by our enemies."

A languid smile curled across The Demon King's lips, his eyes dancing with an unsettling and unexplainable expression. 

Draped casually across his lap, a woman reclined comfortably, her delicate features framed by silky ebony hair cascading down her pale shoulders. She wore a crimson dress embroidered with golden thread, her presence radiating an allure that matched Ars's imposing charisma.

"Good work, Paimon," The Demon King said with his voice smooth, echoing gently around the chamber. 

He tenderly caressed the hair of the woman on his lap, fingers moving gently, almost lovingly, through the ebony strands.

Before Paimon could respond, footsteps echoed once again from the entrance, sharper and more assured. 

Demon Lord Envoy Baal entered, an enigmatic smile playing upon her lips. Her golden hair flowed behind her, framing her confident expression.

"My~My~Paimon," Baal teased, her voice playful yet tinged with sharp authority, "you ought to read the mood better." She inclined her head politely toward the throne. 

"We deeply apologize for interrupting your precious moment with Asmodeus, my lord. We wish to inquire if it is now permissible to deploy all our units in a full-scale assault."

At Baal's words, Asmodeus who was reclining upon The Demon King's lap emitted a gentle yet clearly displeased sigh. 

Her eyes opened slightly, revealing deep violet irises that shimmered with mild annoyance. "Huft… Why does it have to be now?" she murmured lazily, her tone edged with petulance. "I don't want to go."

The Demon King chuckled softly, the rich timbre resonating deep within his chest. "Not yet," he said with measured amusement, gently placing a finger beneath Asmodeus' chin and tilting her face upward. 

His gaze shifted back to Baal and Paimon, his eyes gleaming dangerously. "There isn't enough mana gathered within the United Front's vicinity yet. Deploying your full power now would only bottleneck your potential. Just as it did when you encountered that interesting individual—Raymed, was it?"

Baal's expression shifted to a knowing smile as she inclined her head once more. "Your wisdom is unparalleled, my lord. Indeed, engaging prematurely would prove inefficient. We shall patiently await your command."

Paimon rose gracefully to her feet, her expression brimming with fervent admiration. She turned slightly, eyes ablaze with devotion, and spoke in a clear, resolute voice, as if proclaiming an unshakable truth to the vast audience of shadows and echoes within the throne room.

"Veuz of Humankind, Borreas of the Demi-Humans, Alayars of the Spirits, Oberon of the Fey, and Morgwynevere of the High Humans," she declared with unwavering conviction. "They will surely unite, pooling their strength and will, striving desperately against us. Yet their efforts will be in vain. The Great Demon King Ars cannot be defeated—he is the embodiment of invincibility itself."

Ars tilted his head back slightly, letting out a low, resonant laugh that reverberated throughout the room, thick with confidence and anticipation. 

His eyes glittered with dark amusement beneath the shadow of his white hair.

"Indeed, Paimon," he agreed, voice dripping with confident disdain, "their struggle is utterly futile."

He leaned forward slightly, the intensity of his presence surging like an unstoppable force. "But oh, how I would love to watch them try."