Demon King After the End-Chapter 30: One month Later

"I’ll take you to the Demon King," she said softly, offering a faint smile to the children, who stared wide-eyed at the strange and eerie beauty of the Nethersoil fields.

They passed patches of dark crops, twisted trees bearing fruit, and strange glimmering fungi—none of it ordinary, all of it pulsing with otherworldly life.

At the center of it all was Leon, looking as unbothered as ever—leaning against a mossy archway, deep in flirtation with Sylviana.

The succubus stood close, almost chest-to-chest with him, her hand resting on his chest as she laughed at something he whispered. Leon’s other hand was not idle—it drifted boldly downward, squeezing the soft plush curve of her ass through her revealing dress. Sylviana purred, biting her lip as she arched her back into his touch.

His hand moved behind her, gripping a full handful of her soft, bouncing ass, fingers sinking into the supple flesh. He squeezed—hard—earning a moan muffled behind her bitten lip. Her other hand snaked into his shirt, feeling the heat of his chest.

"You’re going to make me fuck you right here in the open," Leon growled.

"Mm~ You’re getting bolder, my King," she teased, voice sultry. "Should I be worried, or excited?"

"Why not both?" Leon murmured back with a smirk, his eyes dipping to the cleavage she wasn’t bothering to hide. "You keep wearing dresses like this, and I’ll end up bending you over right here."

"Tempting," she whispered, brushing her lips near his ear. "But I like it better when you make me beg first."

Leon chuckled low in his throat and gave her ass another squeeze, his fingers sinking in deep.

That’s when—

"Ahem!"

A loud, deliberate cough echoed in the air.

Leon turned—his hand still on Sylviana’s backside—to see Elvera standing nearby, expression neutral but ears flushed red from second-hand embarrassment.

The newly arrived dark elves behind her looked extremely awkward. The older ones cleared their throats. The younger ones tried not to stare at Sylviana’s practically see-through outfit. Even the children looked confused.

Leon slowly removed his hand, straightened, and smoothed his coat as if nothing indecent had occurred. His face was the picture of composure.

"Oh," he said calmly, meeting Elvera’s eyes. "You’re back."

Sylviana stifled a laugh behind her fingers, eyes twinkling with mischief.

Elvera inhaled slowly through her nose. "Yes, my King. We found them. Survivors—dark elves."

With Leon’s words, a weight seemed to lift from the group. Some of the dark elves finally sat down on the grass, letting their tired legs rest. A few of the younger ones looked around in amazement, their eyes fixated on the strange sight of crops sprouting rapidly and the eerie beauty of the Tree of Death towering in the distance.

"Kaedor!" Leon called out.

The goblin retainer rushed over. "Yes, my king!"

"Get them something to eat. And arrange temporary shelter in the empty barracks."

Kaedor nodded and sprinted off.

Leon turned to Elvera. "They’ll need time to recover. Once they’re settled, I want a full report on their situation. Number of fighters, skills, what they can offer."

Elvera nodded, glancing back at her people. "Understood."

Sylviana, still standing beside Leon, leaned in again—less flirtatious this time. "More dark elves means more mouths, but also more potential. Their affinity with death mana will make them good cultivators of the Nethersoil."

"I was thinking the same," Leon replied. "If they’re strong enough, they can help expand the Garden. If not, we’ll train them."

Sylviana smirked. "You’re getting better at this whole king thing."

Leon gave a half-shrug. "I’m adapting."

Just then, Mora poked her head out from behind Leon’s neck. "Hey! What about me? I did all the heavy lifting with this land! Where’s my praise?"

Some of the dark elves who could now see her gasped softly. An elder whispered, "A spirit..."

Elvera smiled. "They’ve never seen one up close before."

Mora crossed her arms and floated forward, putting on an exaggerated proud expression. "That’s right. Behold, your local adorable miracle worker. Try not to worship me too hard."

One of the children, a small girl with short silver hair, stepped forward timidly. "Miss spirit... were you the one who made the flowers grow?"

Mora blinked, then nodded smugly. "Of course. That was me."

The girl smiled. "Thank you..."

Mora froze for a moment, her expression softening just a little. "...You’re welcome, kid."

Leon let the moment settle, then clapped his hands once. "Alright, enough standing around. Get to work. Mora, go check on the crops. Sylviana, I want your eyes on the perimeter. Elvera, when you’re done, meet me in the hall."

Everyone moved.

Leon stood still for a moment, watching the dark elves slowly mix into the crowd, some nervous, others curious, but all sensing the beginning of something different.

Something they might be able to call home again.

He exhaled slowly.

"Let’s see how far we can push this."

*********

One Month Later

The change was obvious the moment someone stepped outside the castle gates.

Where there was once barren, lifeless dust, the Garden of Bloom now stretched wide and deep—lush, green, and full of life. The Nethersoil zone had expanded to five full kilometers, now brushing right up against the castle’s stone base. The Tree of Death stood tall in the center like a massive black heart pulsing with dark mana, its roots sprawling underground like veins feeding the land.

That corrupted, death-aligned soil—once a cursed patch—had become the lifeline of the demon survivors.

And the ones making full use of it were the dark elves.

Their number had grown from thirty to over a hundred. They kept arriving in scattered groups—tattered, starving, but guided by the call of the Tree. Leon had ordered a welcome every time. Food, shelter, and safety.

Now, they ran the fields.

Dark elves were agile and efficient. Their natural connection to death mana made them perfect farmers of Nethersoil crops—darkroot tubers, bloodleaf herbs, void mushrooms, gloom grains—plants that would kill a human in seconds but were rich in nutrients for demons. They farmed silently and methodically, transforming the dead land into fields with actual rows, irrigation ditches, and covered storehouses.

The makeshift tents were long gone. In their place stood sturdy wooden homes and basic infrastructure. Nothing extravagant—mostly stone foundations with timber walls and black thatched roofs—but they were durable and didn’t look like a war camp anymore. The whole place was slowly starting to look like an actual village, complete with paths, water storage, fire pits, and a small market area where demons and elves traded.

Mora’s efforts had boosted it all. The spirit was like a tireless gardener. Every day, she flew around planting seeds, using her magic to accelerate growth, and correcting soil imbalances. She treated the Garden like her personal project—and anyone who stepped on the crops without her permission got a face full of vines.

"Shoo! You’re stepping on my babies, you oversized oaf!" she once yelled at Gorran, the minotaur, after he accidentally crushed a patch of duskberries.

Leon had let her have full authority over the crops. It was working.

Animals had been brought in too. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

Leon had sent out several teams, led by Kaedor and Gorran, to hunt and capture native beasts—not just for meat, but for breeding and farming. They came back with scaled cows, thick-skinned six-legged creatures that resembled yaks but were adapted to the wasteland climate. There were also bone-horned goats, massive lizard-hens that laid obsidian-colored eggs, and giant mole-hogs that dug tunnels and served as both food and utility creatures.

The demons had set up fenced areas for them, and some of the dark elves—mostly the older ones—had begun domesticating and breeding them. Milk, meat, and even hides were being stockpiled.

Even the air smelled different now.

Not fresh, like a forest, but dense with energy. That was death mana—rich and steady. The Tree of Death didn’t just change the soil; it altered the air, thickened the ambient energy, and even made demonic regeneration faster. Injuries healed faster within the Garden. Magic was easier to cast.

It had become a real stronghold.

And people were finally starting to feel like they were living, not just surviving.

The castle hadn’t changed much on the outside, but the inside was livelier. Training grounds had been re-established. Leon had ordered the expansion of the war room. A basic command structure was in place. More food meant more training. More stability meant more soldiers. Some demons even volunteered to scout further out, securing choke points and tracking human patrols at the edges of the territory.

The morale?

Higher than it had ever been since the fall of the last king.

And at the center of it all, watching from the highest balcony, was Leon—arms crossed, his eyes scanning the Garden below. Sylviana stood beside him, sipping black wine from a glass, and Mora rested lazily on his shoulder, chewing on a dark grape like a spoiled cat.

"You’ve done well," Sylviana said, breaking the silence.

Leon didn’t smile, but there was satisfaction in his tone. "This is just the start."