Orchestrating the Birth of a New Demon Lords Council

The Keepers gathered in a floating citadel, suspended in the void between realities. A massive ethereal map of the Cardinal World hovered in the center, shifting and glowing with power, displaying rising tensions, political struggles, and battles for supremacy.

Rimuru, lounging lazily in his abyssal silk throne, broke the silence.

"We need to push the world to establish a new council, but we can't force it."

Guy Crimson smirked, his crimson eyes glowing with amusement.

"So, we manipulate them instead?"

Milim, ever the embodiment of chaos, grinned eagerly.

"Sounds fun!"

Luminous, always the strategist, sipped her blood-red tea elegantly.

"It has to feel like their own idea. If we force it, it won't last. But if we subtly influence key figures… they'll believe it was their choice all along."

Leon, arms crossed, his golden eyes sharp, nodded in agreement.

"We whisper to rulers, stir conflicts, and make them see the necessity of a council."

Ramiris, floating on a crystal throne, swung her legs.

"So we're playing a long game of trickery and influence? I like it!"

Draguel, the watchful guardian, remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the shifting world map.

"Then let's begin."

To make the world crave order, the Keepers needed controlled chaos.

Rimuru's Subtle Manipulation: The Shadow's Invitation

Rimuru had no need for direct involvement. Instead, he planted the seeds of doubt among rulers and influential warlords.

Through anonymous messages, whispers in dreams, and well-placed rumors, he spread the idea that "the world is on the brink of turmoil."

In royal courts, rulers awoke from unsettling visions.

"A world without balance will fall into endless war."

"A new age must rise, led by those strong enough to claim it."

"The Demon Lords of old are gone. Who will take their place?"

These cryptic messages left kings and warlords restless, uncertain, yet intrigued.

Guy, ever the puppet master, took a more direct approach—he stoked the flames of ambition.

He leaked false rumors to powerful warriors and rulers, whispering that certain factions were already forming a secret council.

"Have you heard? The Beast Kingdom is gathering its strongest warriors. They seek to claim the title of Demon Lords."

"The Sorcerer Kings of the East are forging pacts to divide the world among themselves."

"If you don't act now, you'll be left behind."

This infuriated many, especially those who considered themselves worthy of ruling.

Duels broke out. Alliances shattered. Kingdoms prepared for war—not out of hatred, but out of the desire to claim power before others could.

And all the while, Guy watched with a smirk, knowing only the strongest would rise.

Milim, of course, had no patience for subtlety.

She descended upon the world like a storm, challenging powerful warriors, breaking cities, and testing rulers.

She would land in the middle of a kingdom, point at the strongest warrior, and declare:

"You! You wanna be a Demon Lord?! Fight me!"

She demolished castles, tore through armies, and flattened landscapes—not killing, just proving that those who wished to rule had to be strong enough to handle true power.

After every battle, she'd laugh, slap her opponent on the back, and say:

"You should totally become a Demon Lord! You've got potential!"

This left many warriors shaken, but her words lingered in their minds.

Could they claim such a title? Were they worthy?

Luminous knew that raw power wasn't enough—belief was crucial.

She sent prophetic dreams to seers, oracles, and priests across the world—visions of a new council, a gathering of Demon Lords destined to guide the world.

Some priests woke up declaring a holy revelation: "The Demon Lords must return to restore balance!"

Kings consulted their advisors, worried that divine will was forcing their hands.

Holy orders debated among themselves—was this a test or a true prophecy?

Slowly, faith itself began pushing the idea of a new Demon Lords Council.

Leon used strategy and persuasion. He spoke to rulers and warlords, carefully planting doubt and fear.

"The world is unstable."

"If no one claims control, war will come."

"Would you rather let others decide your fate, or take a seat at the table?"

He never outright told them to form a council, but his words left a mark.

Within weeks, diplomatic envoys spread across the world, discussing a "gathering of the strong".

Ramiris played the ultimate prank—she created a fake council.

Using illusions, rumors, and staged encounters, she tricked the world into believing a Demon Lords Council already existed.

Shadowy figures were seen meeting in secret halls.

False messages were intercepted, hinting at "decisions being made by the unseen lords."

Mercenaries were paid to spread tales of a secret gathering of powerful beings.

This infuriated many—who dared form a council without inviting them?!

And so, more warriors, kings, and mages rushed to claim their own seat.

As the strongest contenders rose, Draguel descended upon them like an unstoppable force.

Standing atop a towering battlefield, his voice boomed across the land:

"IF YOU SEEK TO BE A DEMON LORD, PROVE YOUR WORTH."

And so began the Great Trial—a series of brutal battles, pushing warriors and rulers to their limits.

Some fell.

Some rose.

And the strongest endured.

Through chaos, trickery, diplomacy, and trials, the world had been pushed toward a single conclusion—

A new council must be formed.

At a grand summit, the strongest gathered, unaware that every step had been orchestrated by the Keepers.

As they declared themselves Demon Lords, the Keepers watched from the shadows.

Rimuru smirked. "And they think it was their idea."

Guy chuckled. "Perfect."

Milim cheered. "That was so much fun!"

Luminous sighed. "At least the world has order again."

Leon smirked. "And none of them will ever know."

Draguel, arms crossed, watched the new council with silent approval.

Back in Tempest....

The newly crowned King of Tempest, Benimaru, sat at the head of a long obsidian table in Tempest's war chamber, a grand hall carved deep within the heart of the capital. He had heard the whispers—rumors spreading across the Cardinal World about a new Demon Lords Council forming.

The news troubled him.

The Keepers had retired, but the world wasn't stable yet. If a new council was forming, who would lead it? Who would ensure that Tempest's influence remained strong?

Around him sat his most powerful warriors and advisors—Diablo, Zegion, Geld, Hakuro, Madox, and Gabiru. These were the pillars of Tempest, and together, they would decide the kingdom's next move.

Benimaru tapped his fingers on the stone table, his crimson eyes sharp.

"We all know why we're here. The world is changing, and the rumors are spreading. A new Demon Lords Council is forming."

A murmur spread across the chamber.

"We don't know who started it," he continued, "but we do know one thing—if we don't take control of this movement, someone else will."

Diablo chuckled, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement.

"Ahh… how delightful. A council with no true leader yet? That's an opportunity just waiting to be exploited."

Zegion, ever calm and composed, spoke next.

"We need to consider our options. If this council is truly forming, then who among us will rise to claim a seat?"

Hakuro stroked his beard, his eyes filled with wisdom.

"If we allow unknown forces to take power, they might become a threat. But if we control it from the inside…"

Madox, the cold and calculating general, leaned forward.

"…then we control the fate of the Cardinal World."

Geld, ever the realist, grunted.

"We don't need war, but we do need dominance. If we let the wrong people rise, Tempest's authority will weaken."

Benimaru nodded.

"Then we take action. But who among us will rise as a Demon Lord?"

The room fell silent for a moment.

Diablo smiled, a dark and knowing grin.

"Well, my dear King Benimaru, let's be honest—who in this world could defeat Zegion or myself?"

His words hung in the air, undeniable.

Zegion's presence alone was suffocating, his power absolute. Diablo, with his cunning and ruthlessness, was a nightmare given form.

Benimaru smirked.

"So, you're suggesting that you and Zegion proclaim yourselves as Demon Lords?"

Zegion nodded.

"It makes sense. There aren't many who could challenge us. And if Diablo becomes the leader of the council, then Tempest will always be at the top."

Diablo's eyes gleamed with mischief.

"Exactly. The so-called Demon Lords of old have faded, leaving behind a vacuum of power. I say we fill it… and shape the council as we see fit."

Gabiru, who had been listening quietly, suddenly stood up.

"Wait, wait, wait! What about me?! I could be a Demon Lord too!"

Silence. ( gabiru so coool)

Diablo tilted his head, his smile polite but condescending.

"Gabiru, my dear friend… no."

Gabiru crossed his arms, sulking.

Madox, ever the pragmatist, leaned forward.

"This plan is good. But it needs structure. Who else is rising as a Demon Lord? We need to know our competition."

Benimaru conjured a holographic map in the center of the table, pinpointing regions of interest.

"From what we've gathered, these individuals are either preparing to claim the title of Demon Lord, or they're being pushed toward it."

1. Zephyrion, the Storm Tyrant

A beastman warlord from the untamed north.

He has slaughtered rivals and gained a massive following.

Rumors say he devours weaker challengers to absorb their power.

Zegion's antennae twitched.

"He could be a problem if left unchecked. But he's too primal… he can be outmaneuvered."

Diablo smirked.

"Or manipulated."

2. Xalvador, the Crimson Sage

A mystic from the Eastern Empire, master of forbidden magic.

Seeks to become a Demon Lord to gain ultimate knowledge.

Allegedly, he has been experimenting with resurrection magic.

Luminous would have hunted him down if she were still active.

Benimaru frowned.

"If he succeeds, he could be unpredictable."

Hakuro nodded.

"We might need to eliminate him before he gains too much power."

3. Azariah, the Queen of Shadows

A vampire monarch rising from the ruins of an ancient kingdom.

Believed to be forming a faction of assassins.

Her influence is growing in secret.

Diablo chuckled darkly.

"Now she sounds like someone I could play with."

4. Dragan the Wrathful

A dragon-kin warrior who has never been defeated in battle.

Claims he will burn the world if denied his title.

Wields a lost draconic weapon.

Geld cracked his knuckles.

"He sounds like my kind of fight."

Benimaru stood up, his sharp crimson eyes sweeping over his gathered generals.

"We will not wait for others to dictate the future of the Cardinal World. We will shape it ourselves."

His voice carried the weight of a king, and his advisors—Diablo, Zegion, Geld, Hakuro, Madox, and Gabiru—listened intently.

"Diablo and Zegion," Benimaru continued, "you will declare yourselves as the new Demon Lords. The world will bow to this announcement."

A wicked grin spread across Diablo's face.

"Ahh… how truly exhilarating. The world has been without true rulers for far too long. It's time we remind them what true power looks like."

Zegion, ever composed, simply nodded.

"If we do this, we must do it completely. Our dominance must be unquestionable."

Benimaru crossed his arms, looking at Diablo and Zegion.

"Your titles must send a message. They should strike fear and admiration into the hearts of the world."

Diablo's golden eyes flashed with amusement.

"A title, hmm? Then I shall be known as… 'Diablo, the Abyssal Chaos Creator.' A ruler not just of demons, but of fate itself."

Madox smirked.

"Fitting. No one plays the long game like you, Diablo."

Diablo chuckled.

"Oh, my dear Madox, you flatter me. But you're correct—I will ensure the entire world dances to my tune."

All eyes turned to Zegion. He remained silent for a moment before speaking.

"Then I shall be 'Zegion, the Insect God of Dominion.' Let them understand—nature itself bows to me."

Benimaru nodded approvingly.

"Good. Now, how do we make this known to the world?"

Diablo tapped his fingers against the table, his mind already crafting a grand strategy.

"We don't simply send messengers. No, that would be far too mundane. Instead, we create an event—an announcement that ripples across the world."

Gabiru leaned forward.

"An event? Like what?"

Diablo's smile widened.

"We spread the news through whispers, rumors, and undeniable proof. We send my subordinates—each carrying the decree of our ascension—and they shall visit the major kingdoms, the rogue factions, and the rising warlords. But more importantly…"

He paused dramatically.

"We make sure the world knows that if they wish to be part of the Demon Lords Council, they must come to us."

Geld grunted.

"That forces every potential candidate to acknowledge your power first."

Diablo nodded.

"Exactly. They will either submit to our rule… or be destroyed for their arrogance."

Benimaru smirked.

"Then it's settled. Diablo, choose someone to handle this personally."

Diablo stood up and summoned one of his most trusted subordinates—a high-ranking demon known as Nor, the Shadow Bearer.

A dark mist swirled as Nor appeared, his form a blend of shadow and regal refinement, his voice smooth as silk.

"My Lord Diablo, you called?"

Diablo grinned.

"Nor, my dear agent of chaos. You have a mission. You will spread the proclamation of our ascension to the world. But do so in a way that… excites things."

Nor bowed.

"Shall I whisper it into the ears of kings? Shall I carve it into the skies with fire?"

Diablo chuckled darkly.

"All of the above, dear Nor. All of the above."

Nor vanished into the darkness, his form dissipating as he set off to spread the word.

As the news spread, rulers of powerful kingdoms reacted with alarm and paranoia.

In the Holy Empire, a meeting of archbishops was held in panic.

"Diablo and Zegion have proclaimed themselves Demon Lords?! If those two control the new council, then we are doomed!"

One bishop slammed his fists on the table.

"We must prepare! If the Demon Lords rise again, war will follow!"

But some were more calculating.

"Perhaps… we align with them instead."

Those who had aspirations of becoming Demon Lords felt the weight of Diablo's challenge.

Zephyrion, the Storm Tyrant, laughed.

"They think they can declare themselves above all? I shall go and show them what true power is!"

Xalvador, the Crimson Sage, smirked.

"Diablo's cunning is dangerous… but I shall not bow to him. If he wants to control the council, he will have to contend with me."

Azariah, the Queen of Shadows, whispered to her assassins.

"If he underestimates me, he will regret it. A council is a game of power… and I always play to win."