The next day, as soon as Deroville arrived at his office, he received letters sent back from all directions.
Each piece of stationery was pure black, and the seals were a crimson blood-red, clearly signaling the attitude of the senders.
They were very, extremely, particularly angry.
Deroville sat calmly in his chair and gave a light wave of his hand. Dozens of envelopes opened simultaneously, projecting individual portraits into the air.
The portraits hovered in mid-air, opening their mouths in unison as different voices rang out, as if the senders were physically present.
“Your Highness, is this not a bit too hasty? I recall you saying just recently that you had no plans to take a godson until you intended to abdicate. Changing your word so easily now makes us feel quite adrift.”
“Your Highness, I believe you need to reconsider. The position of Godson is of utmost importance. How can you simply pick a random person to fill it?”
“Your Highness…”
A swarm of voices echoed in the room, sounding quite like a flock of chattering crows. Deroville rested his chin on his hand, eyes half-closed, while his other hand boredly spun the quill on his desk. He looked as if he were listening with a touch of drowsiness.
Celine saw this scene when she entered. Her hand gripping the door suddenly tightened—at this moment, she truly understood the meaning of “itching for a fight.” The clamor in her ears made her head throb. She flicked her hand impatiently, and all the letters were instantly shut, falling to the floor in a heap of silence.
She didn’t pay any attention to the letters. She strode forward, several sheets of paper having been stepped on multiple times, covered in dusty footprints.
She slammed her hand onto the desk with a loud thwack. Because of the force, the desk trembled violently twice.
Deroville opened his eyes, slowly sat upright, and spoke in a warm, comforting tone: “Celine, don’t have such a short fuse.”
“Aaaaargh! You actually have the nerve to tell me not to be angry? You notified everyone about something this massive without even discussing it with me! I was completely blank when those people started questioning me.”
Celine rubbed her hair frantically, glaring at Deroville several times. Her chest heaved as she spent a few seconds calming her emotions before she could barely manage to speak in a normal tone. She asked, “Fine, you didn’t tell others, but to keep even me in the dark—speak up, what exactly are you trying to do? Are you planning to shoulder everything alone again?”
“I didn’t intend to hide it from you for long,” Deroville picked up a letter and began writing slowly. He explained, “I just wanted them to see how resolute my attitude is about this. After all, if I didn’t even tell you, they wouldn’t be able to convince you to change my mind. Since that path is blocked and they want to stop me, they are forced to come before me in person.”
“And what I want is for them to come in person.”
Deroville smiled. The letter he had finished writing folded itself rapidly and vanished with a shwoosh.
Celine knit her brows. She stared at Deroville and asked out of the blue, “Wait, you’ve said all this, but have you actually consulted Celoia? I can understand you hiding it from me, but what about him? Does he know?”
The entire room suddenly fell silent.
Deroville didn’t answer. He simply shifted his gaze away with a hint of guilt. He coughed lightly, his expression looking quite unnatural as he argued: “I’ll tell him when the time is right. I plan to secure the qualification first, then ask Celoia if he’s willing. If he is, then he’ll be my godson. If not, I’ll rescind the decision.”
“You certainly are considerate of Celoia. I just wonder if he actually enjoys being kept in the dark by you like this.” Celine crossed her arms, squinting at Deroville with a snide tone: “In any case, I remember back when I played a tiny trick on you, you hunted me for seven days and literally plucked all the beautiful tail feathers off my body.”
Deroville paused. He looked at Celine hesitantly, then withdrew his gaze. “Fine, the truth is… I’m afraid of being rejected.”
“If I get everything settled, Celoia probably won’t have the heart to reject me. That way, my goal is achieved.”
“The process might be a bit bumpy, but at least the result will be good.”
Deroville seemed to be talking to himself, but the way he kept stroking the barrel of his pen showed he was far less calm than he appeared. He asked, “What do you think I should do?”
Celine raised an eyebrow, showing an enigmatic smile. She stepped to the side and suggested, “I think you shouldn’t be asking me; you should be asking Celoia.”
“What do you think of this proposal, little Celoia?”
Deroville’s pupils shrank, and he snapped his head up.
Celoia had arrived at some point and was peeking through the door. Because the news he’d heard was so shocking, his eyes were wide with surprise, and he stood frozen, staring at Deroville.
The anxiety hanging in Deroville’s heart suddenly vanished. He gave a helpless shrug, the corners of his mouth curving slightly as he asked with feigned nonchalance, “Why are you looking at me like that? I feel like your eyeballs are about to fall out.”
Celoia subconsciously squinted, then blinked hard. His heart was leaping with joy and anticipation. He pursed his lips, trying his best not to let them curl upward, but a flood of laughter immediately overflowed from his eyes.
Seeing that he couldn’t suppress his emotions at all, he simply stopped hiding. Like a little bomb, he sprinted in at flying speed and lunged into Deroville’s arms, nuzzling him.
He hummed as he buried himself in Deroville’s embrace, asking with a touch of pride, “Dero, do you really want to take me as your godson?”
Deroville had already guessed his answer, so his anxiety was gone. He even had the mind to play along.
He dragged out his words, watching as Celoia’s spirited eyes gradually filled with confusion, before finally letting out: “Yes, I really want to. I want Celoia to be my godson very, very much.”
He affectionately pinched Celoia’s cheek and whispered tenderly, “So, does Celoia agree?”
Celoia couldn’t wait. He raised his hands and cupped Deroville’s cheeks, looking directly into his eyes, then slowly leaned in.
“Mwah!” A crisp sound.
He boldly left a wet kiss on Deroville’s cheek, then replied excitedly, “Of course I’m willing!”
Deroville allowed the gesture. When Celoia tried to lean in to kiss the same spot on the other side, Deroville stopped him with a hand. He pinched Celoia’s cheek, shook it lightly, and said, “Kiss me later. First, I need to tell you a few things to keep in mind.”
Celoia sat obediently on his lap, looking up at him as if to say, Hurry up and tell me, I still want to kiss you when you’re done.
Deroville coughed twice, straightened his posture, and said seriously:
“First: No matter who says you aren’t good enough, don’t get anxious. Just respond with a look of contempt, because they aren’t worth your words.”
“Second: No matter what I say, you must control yourself and not show a surprised expression.”
“Third: If someone tries to start something, don’t hesitate or feel troubled—just hit back.”
“Remember these three points, understood?”
Celoia nodded vigorously, then leaned in again like a clingy puppy. Before Deroville noticed, he was kissed on the other side of his face.
He couldn’t even bring himself to be angry. He stared at Celoia with a cold face, but after holding it for a while, he let out a huff and started laughing.
He kissed Celoia’s cheeks twice in return, then set him down. He looked toward the council chamber and said flatly, “They’ve finally arrived.”
“Let’s go. Time to go annoy those old fossils.”
At this moment, the council chamber was drowned in silence.
Unlike the previous meeting where everyone sat as equals, the seating this time was tiered by rank. Several people sat in their places, heads bowed, lost in thought. The atmosphere was deathly still.
Two people stood behind each seated member, their hands resting on the hilts of the swords at their waists. Their gazes were sharp as blades, fixed on the doorway as if ready to strike at any second.
When Deroville pushed the door open, he felt a very thick killing intent and an unshakable resentment.
He swept a smiling gaze over those seated and said, “I didn’t expect everyone to value me so much, arriving so early.”
“This lineup almost made me think you were going to present me with some great gift. I was just wondering if I could afford to accept it.”
Despite his words, his actions were far from polite. He strode forward a few steps and sat grandly on the highest throne in the center.
He tilted his chin slightly, signaling the group to speak.
“I assume you all came with something to say to me. Now that I am here, feel free to speak your minds.”
It was quiet below. Deroville showed no sign of rushing them, leisurely playing with an object in his hand, waiting for someone to break the deadlock. His gaze first went to the very back, guessing who would be the first unlucky soul to provoke him today.
A raspy voice rang out. An elderly man at the far end stood up shakily, leaning on a cane. He took a deep breath before speaking and then began to cough earth-shatteringly.
Deroville understood—they had found the oldest person to act as the spearhead, using seniority to pressure him. He propped his chin up, watching the man’s artificial performance with amusement, not even bothering to offer a word of concern.
The old man coughed for several minutes. Perhaps feeling awkward, the coughing grew quieter toward the end, finally turning into a few weak grunts. He looked up carefully at Deroville, finally realizing the King had no intention of giving him an out. He had to stop on his own and said through gritted teeth, “Thank you for waiting, Your Highness. My health has been poor in recent years. To attend this meeting, I had to use many methods to nurture my body. It was only today that I felt slightly better. I ask for Your Highness’s forgiveness.”
Deroville raised an eyebrow and gave a faint “Mm,” replying flatly, “It’s fine. I won’t punish you for losing your composure in court.”
“However, since your health is so poor, there is no need to come next time. Just find someone to represent you.”
The old man choked. His fake cough almost turned into a real one. Seeing that Deroville was about to tell him to sit down, he hurriedly said, “I came this time to tell Your Highness that the appointment of a Godson is a matter of utmost importance, tied to the very future of the Demon Race. I ask Your Highness to consider it carefully. Do not act on impulse and regret it for the rest of your life.”
Deroville waved his hand, a similarly hypocritical smile appearing on his face. He nodded in agreement and said warmly, “I also believe the choice of Godson is very important.”
The old man’s eyes lit up. Was it really this easy to persuade the stubborn and arrogant Demon King? He opened his mouth to shout “Your Highness is wise,” but before he could, Deroville’s next sentence cut him off.
“That is why I didn’t pick randomly; I chose meticulously.”
He said slowly, “I can guarantee that he has no private relations with any of you. Therefore, he will not be biased toward anyone. See? How fair. You don’t even have to worry about being targeted if a dispute arises later.”
One man sitting closer to Deroville couldn’t take it anymore. He shot the old man a fierce glare, seemingly cursing his uselessness, then stood up and bowed calmly.
“Your Highness, we are not questioning your vision. However, a Godson holds extraordinary significance for the entire Demon Race. Such a hasty decision is truly improper—especially since the person in question isn’t even a Demon. We cannot be certain of his intentions. If he is an undercover agent sent by another race, the Demon Race will fall into dire straits.”
Deroville gave a light “Oh.” He clasped his hands and gave a hearty round of applause, his tone full of interest: “What you say makes perfect sense. But right now, I want to choose a godson. Since you think my choice is no good, who do you think is suitable?”
the man’s expression remained calm. He kept his head bowed, never looking Deroville in the eye, and answered respectfully: “Perhaps Your Highness could select a talent from within the Demon Realm. Your subordinate is of limited ability and finds it difficult to recommend someone you would be satisfied with. As long as you find them acceptable, your subordinate has no objection.”
“I see plenty of objections from you.” Deroville told him to sit. The object in his palm spun again as his cold gaze swept over the crowd. Slowly, he broke into a smile. He said gently, “Of course, I know selecting talent from the Demon Realm is best. But the premise is… you must handle one thing for me first.”
The people below exchanged glances and spoke in unison: “Please instruct us, Your Highness.”
Deroville’s smile deepened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He dropped a few chilly sentences: “Just yesterday, while I was out, I was attacked by demons. Their ambush techniques and power are things only high-level members of the Demon Realm possess. I haven’t found out who it was yet.”
He paused for a moment, and suddenly, a massive boom echoed.
Before the crowd below could react, a powerful force enveloped the entire Demon Palace. Invisible energy surged into everyone’s bodies, firmly locking the mana within them. No matter how they moved, they couldn’t break free.
A small glowing orb appeared at Deroville’s brow—the Authority of Pride emerged from his body, releasing a pressure that suppressed every demon present.
He gave a satisfied smile, stood up leisurely, and looked down at the people below, offering a solution with feigned mercy.
“I see the entire upper echelon of the Demon Race is gathered here. Why don’t you tell me… exactly who wanted my life?”
Silence. Not a single person dared to speak.
Those who had a mountain of opinions just a moment ago now shut their mouths, shrinking their heads like quails. Even eye contact ceased.
They kept their heads down, staring intensely at the hems of their robes, as if they had been struck over the head and suddenly woken up.
Deroville had been cultivating his temperament for years and hadn’t lifted a hand in a long time. They had been worried for so long, and once they finally felt at ease, they selectively forgot Deroville’s past feats. Back then, even with so many demons, there weren’t enough for him to kill. How did they dare to haggle with such a tyrant?
Deroville let out a soft huff, satisfied to see the people below trembling violently. He asked pleasantly, “I’d like to ask one more time: does anyone have any opinions on me appointing a godson?”
No one agreed, but similarly, no one opposed.
Deroville clapped his hands happily and stated the result of the meeting directly. He said, “Since none of you have objections, it is settled. Everyone, raise your heads and see what the person you’ve all approved of looks like.”
With faces full of resistance, they raised their heads.
The door opened again. Celoia, with a serious little face, walked in steadily, step by step.
His expression was haughty and aloof. As his gaze swept over the crowd, there wasn’t a trace of fear; he carried a natural kingly aura.
The people present never expected the new Godson to be such a person. For a moment, they were stunned, muttering inwardly.
Celoia didn’t know what they were thinking. He was actually incredibly nervous—so nervous he was about to walk with his arms and legs in sync. He tried hard to keep a cold face as he walked forward, controlling every nerve in his face. But the more he tried to manage it, the less he could. Just as he reached Deroville’s side, he felt his mouth twitch. Half of his face suddenly flared with sharp pain. At this critical moment, his face had failed him—it had a cramp.
He gritted his teeth, his eyes almost clouding over. He picked up his pace at a speed no one noticed and trotted the last few steps to Deroville’s side. He hid half his body behind Deroville, then raised his hand to vigorously rub his aching cheek.
Deroville noticed his unnaturalness and didn’t force him to the front. Instead, he naturally shifted his position to shield him and announced: “This is my chosen godson—Celoia.”
“Of course, since you do not object, he is also the godson you have acknowledged. I am a man of my word. Celine has already gone to prepare the ceremony on my orders. When the time comes, I will invite you all to participate in Celoia’s investiture. Please all attend; consider it a favor to me.”
The crowd seemed stunned by the Demon King’s “act first, report later” approach. They looked at each other, but no one voiced a protest.
Deroville immediately waved his hand. “I called you here mainly for this matter. Since it’s resolved, there’s no need to keep wasting time here. Go about your business. The meeting is adjourned.”
The man who had spoken earlier finally seemed to regain his senses. He frowned, staring intensely at Celoia, scrutinizing his soft, fluffy golden hair as if trying to see something through his appearance. After a while, he spoke abruptly: “May I ask Your Highness… what exactly is this person’s origin?”
“We can indeed accept a godson who is completely outside the noble network. But that does not mean you can make a child of the Light Faction a godson.”
“We would be extremely concerned for our own lives.”
Deroville put an arm around Celoia, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, before looking at the group. He didn’t seem worried about this accusation at all; instead, he said very calmly:
“That is also the second point I wanted to tell you.”
“Regarding the identity of my chosen godson—as you can see, he originally belonged to the Light Faction. Furthermore… he is an Angel.”
The council chamber suddenly broke into a clamor again. Those who had just gone silent seemed unable to endure it any longer. They frowned, staring at Celoia with scrutinizing eyes, shouting loudly.
“It shouldn’t be this way! Your Highness Deroville, you’ve gone too far. He isn’t just an outsider—my god, he is an Angel! An Angel, the ancestral enemy of the Demon Race!”
“Do you want us all to die by his hand?”
Deroville slammed the desk hard. His voice was heavy: “Finish listening before you judge, everyone.”
“So what if he is an Angel? Haven’t you always known that I, the current Demon King, Deroville, was once an Angel as well? Since you think an Angel joining you will lead to the extinction of the Demon Race, why are you all standing here perfectly fine? Shouldn’t you have died long ago?”
The man took a deep breath. He looked directly at Deroville and said with a frown, “You know perfectly well that isn’t what we mean.”
“We have tolerated you over and over, yet you want to push even further.”
Deroville stared at him for a moment, and the smile on his face finally faded. He said ambiguously, “You are indeed smarter than the others. But sometimes, being smart isn’t necessarily a good thing.”
“You are right about one thing: Celoia—I am definitely making him my godson.”
“And once Celoia officially becomes my godson, I will petition the Authority of Pride to open the Trial of the Path of Authority specifically for him. I believe Celoia, as my godson, should meet the criteria to open this trial.”
“He does meet the criteria,” the man raised his voice, shouting in defiance of his own safety, “But that is under the condition that we all agree! Now that this situation has arisen, I’m sure no one would be willing.”
“I would like to ask Your Highness Deroville: before making such a decision, did you consider that this is unfair to us? No pure-blooded angel has the right to ascend to the throne of the Demon King.”
“Furthermore, I have always believed the Demon Realm already has a prospective successor.”
“By making this decision now, what position does that leave Prince Isal in?”
“I hope Your Highness thinks clearly. Do not acknowledge this person as your godson. Open the Path of Authority for Prince Isal alone.”
“That is the correct path.”