Reborn Financier-Chapter 35 - 34: Blood for the Demon Lord

Night descended, far in among the trees, and above was that moon, illuminating all with that light that is silvery to behold on such ground. The beasts were heard afar off, but not one moved near. Even the strongest among them lingered several miles away, driven back by a presence far greater than their instinct could comprehend. The wind blew unimpeded through the trees, but it was chilly.

Kuro and Kaidën stood in the midst of a small opening. Kaidën was grilling on an open flame the claw of some creature—a bear-like monstrosity. Kuro, old but terribly strong and young looking, stood next to him, waiting eagerly like a child begging for candy. His gold eyes were fixed on the meat, his mouth drooling excitedly.

When Kaidën finished grilling at last and presented it to him, Kuro began to drool, his mouth watering at the aroma of meat cooked to perfection.

But before Kuro could bring meat to his mouth, he and Kaidën both felt a presence—dissolved like the shadows in the woods, among gigantic trees and fierce underbrush.

"You felt that, too?" Kuro asked, now serious, all traces of joking erased.

"Yeah," Kaidën replied, eyes narrowed. "Should we help... or just watch for now?"

For an instant, anger flared in his voice. The very woodlands might have asked for some explanation as to why anything could provoke such anger from an ancient dragon and a Martial Grandmaster, who was also a Ninth Circle Mage.

"Wait and watch," Kuro replied, gazing at the meat still in his lap. "I don’t want to get mixed up in mortals’ business. I’d prefer to simply observe."

"A You’re a piece of shit, you know that, right?" Kaidën muttered, lightly smacking Kuro on the back of the head in disappointment. "I’ll go. I cannot simply remain here and do nothing while women are being slaughtered."

He stood, not letting it get him too down as he prepared to leave.

He stood, not thinking too much on it as he prepared to set off.

Deep in the moonlit darkness of the dark wood, under that grey light, the air thickened—toxic. The quiet rustling of the leaves was soon drowned out by the loud stomps of boots, the clash of metal, and the cruel laughter of men who knew no mercy.

Many adventurer’s marched across the forest, surrounding one hundred women—tattered, bruised, and devastated. Ripped clothes clung to their bodies, their eyes ringed by dark circles from incessant weeping and desperation. Chains clanked with every step, attached at their wrists and ankles as they hobbled along.

Each of them was heavily equipped—every one of them an armed one-man army. Some wore jagged swords with their blades thick with drying blood, others daggers at their side or an axe on their back or even some who carried their greatswords behind them, dragging across the dirt, carving long trails behind them.

They walked like they owned the forest. Arrogant. Merciless. Hungry.

And behind them, riding a shadowy beast cloaked in ethereal black mist, was a woman clad in dark ceremonial robes—her face half-covered by a golden mask carved with demonic inscriptions. Beautiful in an odious, ruthless manner, she was. Her soft-as-silk but edged-as-razor-like voice cut through the atmosphere like an infernal command.

"Move quickly," she urged. "The time of sacrifice draws near. The Demon Lord waits."

She spoke to them in a tone that made shivers run down the spines of the captive. Some of them collapsed to their knees from exhaustion but were greeted with hasty, brutal kicks by the men. One screamed—a scream that was full of desperation—and nobody stopped. Nobody cared.

"We don’t have time for weakness!" one man cried, twice as large as the average man, with an axe mighty as a tree. "The ritual must begin before the eclipse. This evening, the Demon Lord rises!"

Up high in a twisted branch, concealed in thickening leaves, Kaidën remained still. His golden eyes reflected the moonlight, narrowed and cold. Thanks to the divine mana his eyes turned golden yellow when serious and his normal blue, when being himself.His ears were torn by each shriek. His heart was torn by each wail. His fists were clamped hard in against the trunk, veins swelling in self-restraint.

He could feel the energy coursing within him, wanting to be unleashed. His basest inclinations screamed at him to leap down and tear them to pieces.

But he waited.

This was not about being strong.

This was more ominous that.

Something deeper.

He sensed it. that title. The Demon Lord.

Kaidën’s eyes turned to the female on the beast, watching as she raised her arm to the heavens, where the moon sat suspended like an eye staring down.

"He has waited for centuries for this," she whispered loudly enough to allow her followers to hear. "Tonight, one hundred bloods will write the gateway—and the Demon Lord, Zarel would rise."

The men gave vent to a fierce cheer. Weapons were raised. The chains were drawn tight.

And Kaidën.... stayed motionless

But inside him, the storm was building.

The peace that preceded the turmoil was unnerving.

"The ritual begins at dawn," she announced, but her own tone was thick with venom. "One hundred innocents’ blood. all for our lord to rise in glory. The Demon Lord will bring this world in chaos once more."

Kaidën’s eyes narrowed. His fists were clenched. Rage boiled within him, but he drew in a breath and suppressed it.

"Ten percent," he grumbled to himself. "How far is that going to get me?"

Then, he dropped.

Like a phantom, he vanished from his perch, reappearing among the guards in a blur of motion. The first man didn’t even realize he was dead until his head rolled across the grass.

Panic erupted.

"INTRUDER—!"

Steel met. Blood sprayed. Kaidën moved through their lines like an ethereal agent of death, shattering bone with fists, shattering skulls with kicks. He drew no sword at all—there was no need to use a sword. His own flesh was more lethal even than the finest sword.

The man tried to swing a battle axe. Kaidën went low, turned, and launched an upward kick that shattered the man’s spine under his breastplate.

Another lunged with twin daggers. Kaidën caught the wrists mid-air, twisted, and slammed the attacker into the earth so hard it cracked.

They came in groups, waves even—but none could match his speed, his technique. Every blow he struck was calculated. Every motion flowed smoothly into another. And every killing was more brutal than before.

One soldier attempted to flee. Kaidën snapped his leg with a single kick, then slammed his palm into the man’s chest—sending his heart flying out his back.

"W-What the hell is this monster?!" one of the kidnappers screamed.

Kaidën’s eyes glowed faintly as he walked forward, shirt stained red, steps slow but unrelenting. "Only ten percent..." he muttered again, expression unreadable.

The women stared on in horror—some wept, others were rendered speechless—while horror to their eyes was converted to mass murder by an adolescent boy not older than twelve.

And then the ground shook.

From amidst the middle of the clearing at last emerged the woman in red.

"Boy, oh boy!" she purred. "You’re one specimen, aren’t you?" Her body began to emit a dark, pulsating energy. Her face went white, her fingers stretching. Her horns sprouted on her forehead, wings bursting from her back. Her eyes blazed with red light, her smile now feral.

Kaidën paused.

A succubus demon.

"You like what you see?" she purred, voice laced with dark charm magic. It slithered through the air like silk, meant to cloud the mind, twist desire, bend will.

But Kaidën didn’t flinch.

He blinked once. Twice.

Then sighed. "That’s your plan? Seduce a twelve-year-old?"

Her smile cracked.

He vanished again.

This was behind her—his fist on her back, pushing her hard into a tree that split in two with splintering force.

She snarled, spinning midair, spreading wide her wings as she hovered. "You little brat—"

He was in front of her again. Another hit. Another crash. Another tree fell.

She coughed up blood this time.

She launched spells—blades of darkness, hellfire bolts, explosive sigils. Kaidën dodged all of them with ease, dancing between them like a wraith, slashing down with ruthless precision.

Her demonic form couldn’t keep up.

A punch to the stomach—she spatted blood.

A kick to the face—her jaw cracked.

A sweep of the leg, a palm to the chest—her ribs caved.

"You... you’re supposed to still be a child." she gasped, backing away from him in horror, her eyes wide with fear for the first time.

"I am," Kaidën said coldly. "You’re just weak."

Then she screamed.

A blood-red magic circle erupted beneath her. Her body began to disintegrate—flesh and bone being devoured by the circle as she laughed maniacally through the pain.

"You think... this is over?! I offer my body, and all of theirs, as sacrifice! Rise... my lord! RISE!!"

The ground trembled. A cry pierced the silence. The atmosphere thickened, charged with malice.

From the magic circle, a monstrous man, with a white hair and black cloth emerged—black and red, steaming with demonic energy.

Kaidën narrowed his eyes, watching calmly.

Then, far off on a hill, stood Kuro, gazing up with shining eyes.

"That pressure. Oh?" he laughed, from between his fingers. "A Demon Lord, eh?" Weaker than me by far, but... strong enough to be a nuisance."

He bit into his grilled steak with a loud crunch, smirking.

"Looks like the kid’s got his hands full with this one."

To be continued...