Dragon King: Throne of Demons and Gods-Chapter 129: The Messenger’s Folly

Bel’s gaze dropped.

His eyes, glowing and purple, locked onto the demon kneeling before him. The moment their eyes met, the demon felt it. A pressure. A terrifying, gigantic pressure.

The demon’s words caught in his throat. He blinked once, twice, searching Bel’s face for a reaction.

Nothing.

And yet, everything.

He had the overwhelming certainty that one of his words, just one, had opened a door he should never have touched. A door to death.

"What... what did I say wrong?" he whispered inside his own head.

He thought back quickly. Had he sounded arrogant? Too commanding? He bowed his head lower, heart pounding.

"No, no, I was respectful. I praised him, didn’t I? Maybe... maybe I spoke too much?"

Bel took a step forward.

A quiet, simple step, but it felt like a mountain shifting.

The demon froze.

"He’s coming," he realized. "He’s not saying a word. Just walking. That’s worse. That’s so much worse."

Panic crept into his chest.

"Wait... was it the way I phrased it? I said ’fulfill your purpose’! That sounded like I gave him an order—I ordered the Demon Lord?!"

He opened his mouth to correct himself.

"My Lord, I only meant to honor your--"

Then he gasped.

"No, no! Now I’m explaining myself! Like an equal! Like someone who has the right to justify to him!"

Sweat poured down his face.

"Shut up, shut up--"

His voice rose unintentionally.

"I-I meant no insult, I only wished--"

Then it hit him.

"I shouted! I shouted at him!"

His soul screamed. His mind fractured under the weight of his realization.

"Every word... Every sound... I was just talking. That’s what I did wrong. I talked."

Bel now stood in front of him.

The demon couldn’t lift his gaze.

He barely noticed the hand until it moved. Slow, silent, rising above his head.

And then, it descended.

But it didn’t strike.

It simply rested.

A pale, smooth hand upon his head. No force. No heat.

But to the demon, it was a god’s judgment.

His spine arched with tension, his throat sealed. It felt like the weight of a continent was pressing him down. His knees burned. His stomach turned inside out.

Inside his body, things were going wrong.

Organs bulged, veins twisted, something ruptured. He couldn’t tell what, only that his entire body had stopped functioning.

Errors. Too many.

Blood? Crazy. Heart? Stalled. Breaths? Forgotten.

Finally, with a shaking groan, he dropped his second knee.

Now kneeling in full, his head bowed and he stopped breathing altogether.

Only then did Bel smile.

"You understand well."

Bel removed his hand and walked away.

He took only two steps, then he paused.

Without turning, he simply said one word:

"Breathe."

The demon collapsed forward, wheezing, gasping for air, his body drenched in sweat, his mind barely holding together.

He had survived.

Slowly, Bel turned, his gaze distant.

"What you said earlier... about my purpose."

The demon stiffened again but managed a slow nod.

"Yes, my Lord. I... I spoke only what was instructed."

Bel’s eyes narrowed slightly, not from anger, but cold curiosity.

"So tell me. Why are you here?"

The demon hesitated for a split second, then began speaking with caution, each word weighed carefully.

"We learned of your evolution, my Lord. The Forbidden Fruit, the evolution. It wasn’t a matter of if... but when. We learned... that the Eighth would awaken today. That you, Lord Ravager, were nearing completion."

He bowed his head again, eyes lowered.

"My lord, I was sent by one of the Seven. My master, the Gilded Maw. He commissioned me personally to come and greet you at the moment of your rebirth. And... to lead you."

Bel’s eyes didn’t blink.

"Lead me where?"

"To the capital of the Light World." The demon kept his head low, his voice soft. "We’re making our move."

"Explain."

The demon exhaled slowly.

"The humans. Their defenses... They’re weaker than we thought. Too much has shifted in their balance. The Gilded Maw wanted to confirm it. So he tested their strength." He hesitated, then said, "He succeeded. One of the past Lights fell. On their most important ground. Only two remain."

Bel’s brow twitched.

The demon gulped, his voice quieter but more urgent.

"And we no longer need to waste our time moving in shadows or playing cautiously. We’ve located the past hero. Once he falls... the seal will begin to crack. It must be now, my Lord. We move while the chance exists, while momentum is ours."

Bel’s gaze drifted slightly. The seal. The old stories. The legends passed down about the Hero binding the seal to his life.

"So that’s what you’re after..."

"Yes, my Lord. But there’s more."

Bel looked back to him. The demon’s breath caught, but he forced the words out, slower now.

"My master... lost much during this experiment. And now... there’s a risk."

"What risk?"

"That the humans know." The demon’s voice lowered further. "About what he can do. About his secret. They may use it. He can’t move blindly anymore."

He paused, his tone tightening.

"We need our weapon. The one no one expects. The one even the gods don’t seem to know how to stop."

Bel stared at him, unmoving.

"My Lord... It’s you. We need you."

The demon dropped fully into a bow, trembling again.

"This is our chance. We need our final card to end this before it begins again. Lord Ravager... we ask you to fulfill what you were born to do. End the war. Burn their capital. And let the Light fall."

Bel didn’t answer. His eyes watched the wind shift through the broken trees, mind turning over the pieces slowly. Something had changed in the world while he slept. And he... was at the center of it now.

There was a moment of silence. Then the wind stirred.

First gently, then with growing strength. It blew through the forest, making noises similar to murmurs, winding between the trees, and curling around the two figures.

It picked up leaves, scattered dust, and bent the grass low.

Bel stood still, his back half-turned, his violet eyes fixed on the trembling demon.

Then, slowly, he turned.

The wind stopped.

The demon lowered his head at once, forehead close to the ground, but Bel’s gaze was already cutting through him.

"I see. But something is bothering me," Bel said, voice low. "The way you phrased it."

The demon froze.

"It almost sounded like an order."

The demon dropped lower, his forehead now pressed to the dirt. His voice shook.

"Forgive me, my Lord! I meant no disrespect! I... I only conveyed the message as it was given to me. A request from my master. I am merely... a vessel between thrones."

But Bel didn’t seem satisfied.

He took a step forward. The air thickened.

"And yet," Bel said, his eyes narrowing, "he sent a vessel."

Another step.

The demon didn’t dare raise his head.

"So," Bel continued, tone sharper, "a demon lord wants something from me... and sends a mere subordinate? What does he take me for? A servant? A mercenary?"

Each step brought more pressure.

The wind shifted again, curling unnaturally, twisting with invisible weight.

"If a demon lord wishes to speak to another," Bel said, "then it must be done as equals. Face to face."

The pressure surged.

"You do not send a messenger to command. You do not give orders to your equal."

The demon was still, breath held, ready to be erased.

Then... the footsteps passed.

A second of silence.

The demon blinked.

"Go," Bel said, without turning back. "Return to your lord. Repeat what I said."

The wind blew outward, as if pushing the demon away.

"I am no one’s servant. I do not wear another’s mark. If he wants something from me... he can come in person."

A dragon wing unfolded from Bel’s back with a low sound, curling gently at his side.

The demon slowly lifted his head, shocked.

"But, Lord Ravager... this war... we have a plan. We have waited for you, prepared for your return. This is the time to strike..."

"I have other matters to attend to."

The demon’s lips parted, confused.

Then a voice spoke.

"And what could possibly be more important than ending this war in our favor?"

The wind whipped violently, as if recoiling from the sound. The air dropped in temperature, dense and suffocating. Strange ripples rolled across the forest floor, like waves on the ground.

The demon flinched violently.

Then, in disbelief, he lowered his head again.

"M-My..."

A violet flame sparked at the edge of the trees. Then another. A third.

The ground split gently, forming a sigil, an enormous, glowing demonic pentagram carved in light and fire.

From its center, purple fire erupted in a silent, vertical pillar.

A silhouette stepped out from the flames.

The fire parted for him, like a beast greeting its master.

He wore a perfectly tailored black suit. An elegant hat rested atop his head, casting just enough shadow over his eyes to make the smile beneath it unsettling.

He walked slowly, then stopped with the flames at his back, placing a gloved hand against his chest as he bowed.

"I agree," he said. "The etiquette was lacking. But I trust you’ll understand, it was a matter of security."

He rose.

"But, on your request, here I am."

Bel turned slowly. Their eyes met.

"Midas," the man said with a regal smile. "The Gilded Maw."

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