The Demon King sat upright upon his throne, his invisible perception spreading like a spiderweb, capturing the energy fluctuations of the two newborn Primordial Demon Gods.
When he perceived the intensity of the magic power flowing within Lucifer, his abyss-like eyes froze for an imperceptible moment.
“So weak?”
He clearly remembered that when he molded the two, the source of the Demon Realm and magic power he had infused into them were nearly equal.
Why did the magic power of this humanoid Primordial Demon God before him appear so… thin?
The Demon King’s gaze shifted imperceptibly toward the centaur, Belial, at his side.
Upon sensing the far more robust, nearly boiling tide of magic power within Belial, that displeasure eased slightly.
At least this one did not make him “run at a loss.”
The source of the Demon Realm and his own power were incomparably precious; if both creations were this “impoverished and weak,” even he, as the Demon King, would feel a trace of wastefulness.
He suppressed that slight feeling of anomaly, and his deep voice resonated through the palace once more:
“I intend to establish the ‘Demon Clan’ in the Demon Realm.
As Primordial Demon Gods, you bear the responsibility of protecting the newborn clan.” His words were unquestionable, like the promulgation of a decree.
“Yes, Lord Demon King.” Belial immediately bent his front hooves with his centaur body, lowered his head, and spoke in a dull, respectful voice.
Beside him, Lucifer was startled upon hearing this.
The Demon Realm… there is no Demon Clan yet?
This meant that in the vast Demon Realm at this moment, there were only three true members of the Demon Clan: the creator Demon King seated high on the throne, and the two of them, the just-born Primordial Demon Gods.
A thought flashed through his mind like lightning, making him almost unable to suppress the curve of his lips.
There was no established massive clan, no “Ten Commandments” with terrifying Combat Class who had long since made a name for themselves… This was a nearly blank canvas!
With his starting status as a Primordial Demon God, as long as he seized the initiative and frantically increased his power before the “Ten Commandments” were born, or even earlier…
Surpassing them was not impossible!
The flame of hope quietly ignited.
He immediately imitated Belial, knelt on one knee, lowered his head, and replied: “Yes, Lord Demon King.”
While responding, his mind stirred, and he attempted to quietly activate the “Magic Eye of Balor” to peek at the “Combat Class” value of this supreme existence before him.
However, when he cast his “gaze” toward the throne, he felt an invisible, vast pressure like a starry sky recoil toward him, which not only instantly blurred the perception of his magic eye but also caused his eyes to sting and his soul to tremble, causing him to subconsciously avert his gaze.
Unable to look directly… and even less able to detect.
Lucifer’s heart chilled, and he gave up the attempt.
Was it because of the absolute rank suppression between the creator and the created?
Or was the Demon King’s own power already so profound that it was enough to block all prying?
In the original work, the Demon King’s peak Combat Class was 920,000… Even if he hadn’t reached his peak now, it was probably over 700,000, right?
He silently estimated in his heart, and a deep sense of powerlessness welled up.
In front of such an existence, what difference was there between his own Combat Class of 12,000 and the dust or ants that could be crushed with a casual wave?
“Go.”
The Demon King said no more, waving his huge palm casually to signal them to leave.
Belial rose first.
He saw that on the back of his sturdy horse body, dense dark magic power quickly gathered and stretched, condensing into a pair of broad black wings with dark purple patterns flowing along the edges.
He kicked with his four hooves, flapped his wings violently, stirred up a wave of air, and shot out of the palace gates like an arrow released from a string.
Lucifer dared not delay and focused his mind.
A cold and powerful magic power surged from his spine to his shoulder blades, and immediately, similar black wings unfolded behind him.
They were a bit more streamlined than Belial’s pair.
He exerted force with his feet, flapped his wings, and his body took to the air, following closely behind.
This pair of black wings, composed of pure magic power, was one of the most basic yet iconic abilities of the Demon Clan.
Even the lowest-ranking Red Demons in the future would be able to manifest them.
The Demon King’s palace was unimaginably vast, resembling a floating giant mountain range.
Even at Lucifer’s current flight speed, it took a full ten minutes to completely fly away from the core area shrouded in endless pressure and leave that pitch-black giant palace behind.
During the flight away, Lucifer’s sharp gaze swept over the giant platforms and corridors on the outskirts of the palace, which looked like extensions of the mountain range.
He saw—some massive, silent white outlines.
They were stone giants, standing towering and still; some were even covered in moss, like sleeping ancient guardians.
Albion… the Demon King’s combat weapons.
Lucifer recognized them.
Finally, he completely left the scope of the palace and was truly under the sky of the Demon Realm.
The sky here was not pure darkness, but a repressive dark red, as if mixed with rust and stagnant blood; thick clouds rolled slowly, and occasionally, pale lightning flashed silently, illuminating the barren, hideous land below.
The air was filled with the smell of sulfur and decay, and turbulent magic power, like invisible knives, occasionally scraped across his skin, bringing a slight stinging sensation.
There was no vegetation, only oddly shaped, jagged stone forests that looked like skeletons, and pitch-black swamps bubbling with high heat.
“This is… the Demon Realm.” Lucifer took a deep breath of this air that was not exactly “fresh,” feeling a sense of emotion in his heart.
Just as he was adapting to this harsh environment, his gaze accidentally swept over the base area on the outskirts of the palace below.
It was not completely empty there; vaguely, some small black shadows were moving slowly.
Lucifer lowered his flight altitude and cautiously approached to observe.
They were some “things” about the size of an ordinary person, with strange shapes.
They had rough shells that looked like rock or hardened mud, and their forms were similar to hunched humanoids or beasts; their movements were slow and stiff, wandering aimlessly in the shadows on the outskirts of the palace, as if searching for something, or perhaps just existing there.
“So they are Indura… larvae.” Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, and he muttered to himself.
He recognized these extremely troublesome “scavengers” and “destroyers” unique to the Demon Realm.
Even as larvae, their Combat Class was generally between one thousand and three thousand, which was already a nightmare for ordinary living beings.
And an adult Indura was even more of a walking natural disaster, with a rumored Combat Class as high as 200,000, enough to easily destroy a town.
The current me absolutely could not afford to provoke an adult form.
Even facing a large number of larvae swarming me would be troublesome.
Lucifer quickly made a judgment.
This place was not suitable for a long stay.
He restrained his aura, flapped his wings, and was about to silently increase his altitude to get away from this area.
“Roar—!”
However, the moment he moved, a low, hoarse roar, like rocks grinding together, suddenly came from below!
The roar was not particularly loud, but it carried a heart-palpitating resonance that instantly broke the surrounding deathly silence.
Lucifer’s figure stalled, and he looked down.
He saw that below, a dozen or so Indura Larvae seemed to have been startled and all stopped their aimless wandering together.
Their “faces,” which had no facial features but only rough holes, slowly lifted, and they all simultaneously “looked” at the air where he was.
A feeling of being locked on, of being watched greedily, suddenly descended.