How to Make the Perfect Demon Lord-Chapter 60: The Prison

The battlefield was swallowed by a dense smokescreen, thick enough to steal sight itself. For several long seconds, no one could tell what had become of Jamie Noter.

In the VIP section, Alexander and Sandra watched in silence—though their eyes kept drifting to Greg. The man who had orchestrated the attack stood rigid, waiting. He had detonated his weapon with the sole purpose of erasing the demon. If that blast failed to even leave a mark, then what followed would not be good news for him.

"You disgust me, human!"

Jamie’s voice tore through the smoke. It was wrong—stripped of the faint humanity it once carried at the start of the confrontation. As the fight dragged on, that trace had been peeled away piece by piece. What remained was something colder, more monstrous. Calm footsteps followed the voice as Jamie walked forward, directly toward Greg—his enemy.

None of the spectators could believe it. Those who understood the attack knew it was powerful enough to cripple anything it touched. Anything. And yet Jamie emerged from it regardless. Indeed, his demon form was catastrophic—a force that demanded fear.

"So that didn’t work? What a pain in the ass," Greg spat. "Guess I’ll have to dissect you into little pieces of meat!"

He bit down on his thumb and snapped off skin as if it were nothing more than food. Blood began to fall immediately, slow and deliberate, like the first drops of rain before a violent storm.

Anyone watching would have sworn he’d lost his mind—that bloodlust had drowned out his reason. But the truth was the opposite. This was no madness. It was a ritual. An exchange. His blood for power.

"No way he’s about to try that move," the Blue Jaguar captain muttered, disbelief written across his face as he half-rose from his chair. "You guys are desperate as hell."

Thud.

Thud.

The demon finally stepped out of the smoke, standing face-to-face with Greg.

"I gave you a chance to impress me," Jamie said, his voice calm, cruel. "And sadly... I’m disappointed."

His new height towered over Greg, forcing him to look down at the top of the man’s head—like a grown man staring at a child. Unlike before, the transformation looked complete. Polished. Final.

"Now," he continued slowly, "let me show you my true power."

One would expect catastrophe to follow those words—a stance, a weapon, a devastating technique. But none of that happened. Jamie calmly clasped his hands behind his back, like a kung fu master observing students practice moves he had already mastered.

Greg didn’t understand what he was seeing. More importantly, he didn’t care. All he saw was an overconfident enemy standing still, waiting to be struck.

"Activate—Overhaul Level Two!!"

A violent wave of energy exploded from Greg’s body, destructive enough to crush anything in its path.

Vu!!

He launched forward. The blood dripping from his thumb wrapped around his fist, thick and clinging, before instantly mutating into a black, poisonous liquid that oozed and hissed with intent. His speed was unnatural. The force behind him screamed through the air.

"Poison techniques are the specialty of the Five Scorpions," Alexander said quietly to Sandra. His uncle had forced him to memorize every scrap of clan knowledge. "This one boosts damage tenfold. Once the poison enters the body, it kills the enemy’s cells from the inside."

He swallowed.

"Combine that with Overhaul... and you get a lethal attack." 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

Greg’s grin stretched wide as he flew through the air. He was enjoying every second of it.

Until—

"Fall."

Jamie’s command was quiet.

An invisible force slammed into Greg midair—brutal, absolute. His body twisted violently, composure shattered. The poison around his fist scattered uselessly, as if it had never been meant to be a weapon at all. He was driven straight into the ground.

Boom!

"Did he just—no, that’s impossible!"

"He fell on accident, right?!"

"A vice-captain falling in battle? That’s unheard of!"

"Rise."

The same unseen force struck again, lifting Greg effortlessly into the air like a scrap of paper caught by the wind.

"Fall!!"

The direction reversed instantly. Gravity itself seemed eager to obey.

Boooom!!!

Greg’s body drilled into the ground, the hole left behind disturbingly perfect—as if carved by design. With every single word Jamie spoke, the forces of nature bent to his will.

Bray froze. Whatever thoughts he’d had evaporated on the spot.

Alexander was frozen too—not because he didn’t understand what he was witnessing, but because he refused to accept it. Fighting with words alone? The very idea felt unreal, like a dream refusing to break.

The goddess appeared calm, unmoved—but inside, the opposite was true.

"What the fuck was that, Jamie?!" Greg gasped, trying to push himself up. His muscles betrayed him halfway, collapsing under the pain.

"I am not Jamie," the demon replied. "He was naïve. Stupid. I am far more advanced—a fragment of Evidod, the embodiment of integrity, the first Demon Lord."

The words struck like a hammer. Fear rippled through everyone who heard them. No history lesson was needed to understand the danger standing before them.

"Come to me."

Vu!!

Greg was yanked into the air instantly, his body going rigid. Invisible force did all the work. He hung there like a lifeless display mannequin, every struggle useless. His arms and legs refused to move. Then, as if the laws of nature had let go of him entirely, he drifted toward the demon.

Jamie’s hand closed around his neck.

"Woah—Jamie—fuck!" Greg choked, clawing at the grip. It didn’t budge. It tightened, like a chain locking into place.

The demon began to rise, floating effortlessly into the sky. Greg dangled from his grasp like a slave bound to his master. His eyes bulged, bloodshot and desperate. His face said everything—he was suffocating.

Suddenly, streams of magic poured out of Greg’s body. Blue lines flashed violently, humming with energy. Doom was no longer a threat—it was inevitable.

As the demon ascended higher than the tallest trees, visible to all, he spoke.

At that exact moment, every television and audio system across Midworld was hijacked. Screens flickered. Speakers crackled. No one was spared—not even those in the VIP section.

"The gods are at the center of everything," the demon declared. "How you think. What you do. Every event in your lives is shaped by them. They call it nature’s intent—until they begin to torment the souls of the dead. Souls meant to rest. All for entertainment."

His grip tightened.

"They even kill some of you on purpose... just so you can be dragged into Midworld."

Across Midworld, chaos erupted. Emotions people had never known boiled to the surface, slow at first—then violently, like a volcano ready to burst.

"That is why I am here," the demon continued. "Your savior. The one who will destroy Midworld and free you from the prison they call the Goddess’ control."