How to Make the Perfect Demon Lord-Chapter 59: Who will win?

All the wind stopped. Tension was at its highest.

It was Greg—the man tasked with killing Jamie.

The same Jamie he had once protected.

But now, Jamie was something else—completely transformed, dangerously beyond human.

He stood upright like a man who still had control of his senses, but that was only the illusion the form gave him.

"Jamie! What happened to you!"

Bray shouted from the stands, his voice cracking through the chaos and drawing the attention of the VIP section.

The young man he’d once seen as a brother had turned into a demon,and not the kind that ever played hero in the games of the living world.

"Is that their friend?"

The goddess asked, though she clearly already knew. Her tone was theatrical, almost playful.

"Yes," Castor replied dryly. "Things just got more interesting for him."

After all, Jamie was from his Midgard—it was his duty to answer.

"You know, Jamie..." Greg muttered, his tone cold and deliberate, "killing you is my ticket out of here. At least you can die knowing your death won’t be in vain."

He studied the demon closely, dissecting him with his eyes, searching for a weakness.

"Roaaar!!"

Jamie’s reply was pure fury. He never took his glowing red eyes off Greg.

There was a psychological war happening here—one that heavily favored the fighter who still had his senses intact.

"I have a very bad feeling about this..."

Sandra whispered from her perch in the trees, torn between intervening or watching fate unfold.

"Ever since meeting him, learning about him..." she continued quietly, "I saw someone I lost a long time ago—my little brother."

The image flashed in her mind: a slim, cheerful elf who smiled for no reason. When their father, the Elf King, turned to cruel solutions, her brother had always been the first to stand up to him.

He believed in cooperation. He made it happen.

That was before the attack that took him—and her—with it.

"I thought we were told to wait for extraction. What are you doing here?"

A deep, familiar voice shattered her thoughts from behind the tree. The tears that had begun to rise vanished instantly.

She blinked several times, drying her eyes before turning toward the voice.

It was none other than Alexander, standing confidently, arms crossed like a teacher about to scold a student.

"I’m just watching the fight between your two friends,"

she mocked, testing his patience.

Alexander went silent, clearly searching for a measured response. He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing she’d gotten under his skin.

"Still," he said at last, "that’s not what we should be doing."

"Shh—Greg’s making a move," she hissed.

Below, Greg charged headfirst, scythe in hand like an executioner delivering judgment.

"Hmh,"

Demon Jamie grunted. The attack was direct—too direct. No creativity. No subtlety.

Siiing!!

Greg swung, blade first, aiming for a diagonal slash.

Ding!!

Jamie swatted it aside with his right hand like brushing away a fly. Sparks scattered in every direction—a testament to how hard his skin had become.

The collision shot Greg back,slamming into a tree.

Thud. Thud.

Greg lunged again, his movements sharp, measured—like a seasoned samurai.

Ding!

Jamie slapped the scythe away again, forcing Greg back.

"He can’t win like that,"

Sandra muttered. "Those attacks won’t even scratch him."

She was right. The fight was turning dull—nothing like what she’d expect from a vice-captain of the Five Scorpions Clan, the second-strongest in all Midworld.

Still, something about Greg’s rhythm felt deliberate—like he was testing, probing for something unseen.

"If he uses strength-enhancement, it’ll be useless," Alexander observed, arms folded like a foreman on a job site. "Even explosion-type skills might not work—his skin’s too damn tough. Unlucky fight for the traitor. Let’s see how he gets out of this one."

He’d completely forgotten he was the one who’d argued against watching the battle—now he was hooked, just like the rest.

...

"Rooar!!"

Jamie bellowed again, the ground trembling beneath the sound.

No one expected what came next.

"Are you done with your weak attacks?"

The demon spoke at last, voice muffled behind the bone-white mask. It was guttural—distorted—like something ripped straight from a horror game.

Finally, the movies had gotten one thing right: demons sounded terrifying.

"Oh, it can talk!" Greg laughed. "Good. I want to hear you scream when I cut you into chunks!"

But his taunt didn’t last long.

Thud! Thud!

Greg rushed again, faster this time, scythe slicing through the air.

Ding!!

Jamie blocked the strike once more—but this time Greg didn’t retreat. He shifted his stance, positioning himself closer to Jamie’s range.

"Activate special skill: Golden Flare!"

Kwi!!!

A blinding flash erupted—light flooding every corner of the battlefield, burning away the darkness.

It reached even the VIP section—thankfully, the barrier held.

But Bray wasn’t so lucky.

"Fuck!"

He yelled, clutching his eyes as the light seared his vision.

When the glare finally faded, the battleground was littered with temporarily blinded victims.

Even Sandra and Alexander were caught off guard, their ears ringing, heads pounding, barely keeping balance on the branch.

If it hit them that hard—what about Jamie?

But the demon never screamed. He didn’t flinch. No one could tell how badly he’d been affected.

Thud. Thud.

Greg charged again. 𝗳𝚛𝚎𝚎𝘄𝕖𝕓𝕟𝕠𝚟𝚎𝕝.𝗰𝕠𝐦

Jamie was covering his eyes—the light had reached him after all.

Stab!!

The scythe drove deep into his left armpit.

"Rooar!!"

Jamie howled, staggering from the pain.

The light was no longer his problem—this was.

Siiing!!

Greg withdrew, circling fast.

That was his plan all along—to find the weak point. By baiting Jamie into raising his arms, he’d exposed it.

Stab!!

He struck again.

"Roaaar!!"

Jamie grabbed the metal rod connecting the blade, halting Greg’s motion cold.

But Greg only smirked.

Exactly what he wanted.

"If you want it that bad—take it!"

He jumped back several steps, releasing the weapon.

Beep. Beep.

BOOM!!!

The scythe exploded violently, flames bursting from Jamie’s side.

Greg had infused it with volatile material—rigged to detonate the moment he let go.

By jumping back,

he’d just set it off.