After announcing his name, Lucifer’s pitch-black eyes stared intently at Andura as an invisible pressure permeated the air.
He spoke again, his voice carrying a demand for answers that brooked no evasion:
“I have already informed you of my name and origin.
Now, it is your turn to answer me.
Why did Warrior Chief Andura attack without cause?”
As he spoke, the black wings behind his back adjusted their angle slightly, his body maintaining a posture that seemed relaxed but was, in fact, ready to explode into action at any moment.
His gaze swept over Andura’s hand as it withdrew the longsword, his vigilance never wavering.
An advantage of a thousand in Combat Class was not enough to make him let down his guard.
The unknown properties of the opponent’s weapon—which could deliver such a sharp slash and was suspected to be a “Divine Artifact”—were the greatest variable.
Hearing this, a trace of a nonchalant smile appeared on Andura’s handsome face.
He spread his hands elegantly, as if the lethal strike from just now was merely a friendly greeting.
“Why so tense, Lord Lucifer?
I merely wanted to…
test the general level of the Demon Realm’s ‘local residents.'” His ice-blue eyes curved, his tone relaxed and even slightly joyful.
“Looking at it now, the results are satisfying.
Given your status as a ‘Primordial Demon God,’ your strength is indeed extraordinary, but it seems it won’t be difficult for my Vampire Clan to establish a foothold in this realm.”
The logic in his words was clear and arrogant: he viewed Lucifer as the benchmark for the top-tier combat power in the current stage of the Demon Realm.
Since he could contend with this “Primordial” and even nearly succeed, the prospect of the entire Vampire Clan migrating to the Demon Realm and occupying a place was naturally bright.
He hadn’t considered at all what kind of terrifying existences still slumbered in this ancient land of the Demon Realm.
Lucifer caught the subtext in his words and couldn’t help but shake his head, a complex expression appearing on his face—part self-deprecation, part pity for the other’s ignorance.
“Local top-tier?
Heh…” He pointed to himself, his tone flat but carrying the weight of indisputable fact.
“Someone like me is merely struggling to survive in this Demon Realm, possessing only a slim chance of staying alive.”
This was the truth, even if admitting it stung his pride.
What was a Combat Class of 12,000 in front of a true titan?
The Demon King went without saying—that was a starry sky one had to look up to.
Belial’s Combat Class of 210,000 was like a mountain hanging overhead.
Even those adult Indura following their instincts in the depths of the Demon Realm had a Combat Class as high as 200,000, which was enough to easily crush him several times over like swatting a fly. This chapter was copied from NovelPing without permission.
He, Lucifer, was indeed just a slightly larger, perhaps sturdier, piece of “cannon fodder” at this moment.
The smile on Andura’s face stiffened slightly.
His ice-blue eyes carefully scrutinized Lucifer’s expression, trying to discern how much of it was modesty, how much was intimidation, and how much was unsettling fact.
“Are you not a ‘Primordial Demon God’?” Andura pressed, his tone carrying a trace of imperceptible urgency and doubt.
“That title should mean you are one of the first and most powerful individuals.
Does your entire ‘Demon Clan’ have an average strength that is far removed from yours?”
He still harbored a sliver of hope that Lucifer was just being alarmist or that there was a severe power gap within his race.
Otherwise, if there were individuals in the Demon Realm who generally far surpassed Lucifer, the Vampire Clan’s migration plan would be cast under a massive shadow, perhaps even becoming a total disaster.
“Heh…
Hahaha!!”
Looking at Andura’s expression—a mix of frustration and probing—Lucifer suddenly burst into loud laughter.
The laughter echoed through the desolate mountain cliffs, filled with undisguised absurdity and irony.
Andura’s brow furrowed, a hint of anger creeping onto his face.
“What is so funny?” His voice turned a few degrees colder; his dignity as Warrior Chief made him feel insulted.
Lucifer’s laughter gradually subsided, but a mocking curve remained at the corner of his mouth.
He didn’t directly answer Andura’s question about the overall strength of the Demon Clan, but instead threw out another question:
“Warrior Chief Andura, in your view, how strong is…
my strength exactly?
Just speak truthfully.”
Andura was silent for a moment.
Despite his displeasure, he gave an objective evaluation based on their previous exchange: “Very strong.
Speed, reaction, and power are all top-notch.
Especially being able to dodge my prepared strike shows you are extraordinary.”
This was the truth.
If Lucifer hadn’t shown sufficient strength, he wouldn’t be wasting his breath here.
“Very strong?” Lucifer repeated the words, that mocking look on his face gradually turning into a deep, almost cold calm.
He slowly turned around, his gaze casting toward the darkness and chaos in the depths of the Demon Realm that seemed capable of swallowing everything.
His voice lowered, carrying the indifference of one stating a cruel, epic truth:
are everywhere.”
He paused, like a mentor revealing the cruel laws of the world to an ignorant apprentice:
“In this Demon Realm, the lowest-level magic creatures have a Combat Class hovering around three hundred; they are true dust.
And those existences known as ‘Demon Beasts’ have a Combat Class that fluctuates between one thousand and three thousand in their juvenile stage alone.”
He withdrew his gaze from the abyss and looked back at Andura.
There was no emotion in his pitch-black eyes as he calmly asked:
“So, Warrior Chief Andura, based on your knowledge and logic…
what would you estimate the Combat Class of the adult forms of these Demon Beasts to be?”
Andura’s heart sank slightly.
He had indeed vaguely felt intense magical collisions in the distance earlier, but he hadn’t looked into it.
Now that Lucifer had pointed it out, combined with the description of the “juvenile” strength, he made a quick estimate.
If a juvenile is three thousand, no matter how the adult grows, several times that should be the limit…
“In accordance with common sense…” Andura cautiously gave a number he thought was already exaggerated enough, “Perhaps…
close to ten thousand?”
“Ten thousand?
Hahaha!!” Lucifer laughed again, this time the laughter was short and sharp, filled with complete mockery for the words “common sense.”
He stared at Andura, and word by word, with absolute clarity, he threw that suffocating number at him:
“It is two hundred thousand.”
“Two hundred…
thousand?” The composure and elegance on Andura’s face instantly froze.
His ice-blue pupils shrank suddenly, as if he had heard the most absurd and terrifying tall tale.
Ten thousand was already the boundary of his imagination, but two hundred thousand…
that was twenty times his own!
It was a power akin to a natural disaster, sufficient to easily wipe out him, the vanguard he led, and even a small legion of the Vampire Clan!
This word was like a heavy hammer, ruthlessly smashing all his preconceptions about the power structure of the Demon Realm, as well as his fantasy of the Vampire Clan easily “establishing a foothold.”
The desolate wind blew across his silver-white wings, bringing a bone-chilling coldness.