Ch.184Flame (1)

# The End of the Demon Realm’s Renaissance

As the era of the Demon Realm’s resurgence drew to a close.

Caldragore, who had led his army with unstoppable momentum to drive out all the celestial invasion forces, was entering the final years of his reign.

His body, broken by war, could no longer lead the legion, so he spent most of his time in the Demon King’s castle.

“I hear Durin has engaged in battle with the celestial detachment again.”

Instead, the king delegated military authority to his most trusted general. He divined the future of the demon realm by relying on the victory reports brought back.

“With each victory, I wish to rest easy. But as you all know, the situation at the border is not favorable.”

“We will quickly organize reinforcements to support the border forces.”

“That’s what we did last time, and the time before. While Durin continues to fight, all we do is assemble and send troops.”

Caldragore spoke with a voice full of concern.

“Without achieving our ultimate goal.”

Everyone knew the future. The lament of one who could only watch, unable to break free from fate, continued.

“The central region prepares for the hero’s invasion while the border suffers at the hands of the celestials. They refuse to engage in all-out war, instead trying to wear down our demon realm. Can we endure this continued attrition?”

“The legion can overcome it. They will repay us with victory.”

“We cannot do so forever.”

No one could answer this statement.

The Red Horn and Green Horn dynasties had passed, but the aura of decline had not easily recovered. Even the central region, once the core of military conscription, was in ruins due to the hero’s attacks.

A wound that could not speak of hope.

Caldragore understood them but could not hide his growing frustration.

“Do you see any possibility of destroying the northwestern border crossing and reclaiming our ancestral lands?”

It was because he carried the burden of the Green Horn.

Istria, which had implemented a dynastic change hoping for a new phase but failed to achieve its goals just like the Red Horn. Their last chance. Having once achieved great results that gave them hope that they could succeed, they found it difficult to endure the reality of decline that had arrived.

Though they maintained the throne somehow with the magic of domination that replaced the symbolism of primordial bloodline, they only ruled over lower demons. To those who followed the law of the strong, the Demon King was no longer a ruler. He was no different from a petty figure who only managed the weak.

“I asked what has become of the aspirations our demon realm once sought to achieve.”

“I will speak frankly, Your Majesty.”

A deep voice resonated through the king’s hall. The foremost among the high demons stepped forward.

One with deep ties to Caldragore. It was Killahal, the leader of the Red Horn.

“You once were responsible for the frontier. You seem qualified to answer. Speak your mind.”

“The wounds are too great to defeat the celestials while upholding the will of our ancestors. Having endured countless wars, we’ve suffered more depletion than recovery, which is only natural.”

A fact they had ignored while enjoying the period of resurgence. Killahal spoke firmly about the reality of the central region.

“Moreover, with the hero’s intrusion, the central region has also suffered damage from holy power.”

Caldragore heaved a deep sigh. A thick sense of helplessness enveloped the hall, felt without needing to be spoken. Facing such a king, Killahal still held his head stiffly high.

“Then we must focus on maintenance rather than strengthening our forces. The legion stationed on the northwestern front numbers about fifty thousand. Insufficient to defeat the endlessly replenished celestial army, but enough to attempt a counterattack. Moreover, they are led by Durin, the strongest in the Demon King’s castle, so let us take a gamble.”

“You’re saying it’s time to make a decision?”

“Do not hesitate, but proceed with firm resolve.”

For victory, only one option remained.

To raise the sword in place of Durin, who was struggling on the battlefield. It was the traditional solution to overcome difficulties and the breakthrough most idealized by demons.

“Killahal. Do you think I can overcome this?”

“Your Majesty has led countless wars to victory. I have no doubt you will do the same in this war.”

The history of victory recorded in the scriptures had always been thus. Even the primordial Demon King personally commanded wars and shattered angel commanders, establishing the authority of the demon realm.

It was the only way to lighten the burden on Durin, who fully carried the king’s duty.

The timing was also appropriate, as the celestial realm was watching closely and gathering forces once more. The sense of war, acquired through more battles than anyone else in this world, told him the closest day was approaching.

If his physical condition had been sound, he would have shown his determination immediately, but the decline that prevented this brought great sorrow.

In this situation, Killahal once again instilled courage in the hesitating Caldragore.

“Your Majesty. Though it will be difficult, you must rise. Our demon realm’s legion will support you from behind, so please rise. Step forward and defeat the vicious white wings.”

Killahal and the subordinate demons knelt. They bowed their heads and pleaded.

“So it must come to this.”

Caldragore smiled bitterly. Their outcry might appear as loyalty when recorded in scripture, but those witnessing it firsthand saw a different aspect.

They were sending the king to his death.

Just as the Red Horn had fallen due to disastrous war results, they intended to pull down Caldragore using the failure of the conquest war as justification.

There was no reason to comply. He could simply continue his reign by delegating the war to Durin as he had been doing.

But.

“Prepare the sword.”

Destiny called to him.

If he won here, it would silence the Red Horn, more vicious than the celestials.

Caldragore was one who overcame trials. Though much of his youthful vigor had faded, his soul still retained a small flame of heat.

“I shall depart for battle soon.”

He would prove everything through victory.

Caldragore clenched his fist firmly.

#

The beginning of another war.

The demon realm endlessly craved blood. For demons, battle was glory, a wellspring of joy, but this war felt distinctly different.

“Great Mother, please divine the future for me.”

In a place where all courtiers had departed.

Caldragore, accompanied only by a small guard detail, sought out the sorceress.

“If my weakened body cannot withstand the war, I must know. I need to know the moment my life’s thread ends so I can prepare my heart and lead the war.”

The pillar of Caldragore and Istria.

The Demon King pleaded with the sorceress Azmosa.

“Please help me fulfill my duty as king.”

“Is it death, or what comes after that you fear?”

“Living through war after war, I haven’t even designated a successor. My body deteriorates daily while the situation worsens. No one supports me, so my worries can only grow.”

Caldragore had grown old.

His youthful vigor had faded with his whitened body, and in its place, worry about an uncertain future filled him.

“If I fall, who will succeed me?”

“Another Green Horn will appear, I suppose.”

“Great Mother. The Red Horn is eyeing this position. Aren’t they trying to use the demon realm’s troubles as an opportunity to usurp the throne? They wouldn’t care even if angels pushed into the central region. They’re the kind who would gladly welcome destruction if it meant reclaiming the throne!”

His voice grew intense. Caldragore grabbed Azmosa and implored once more.

“So please, tell me something of the future.”

“……”

“Will the Green Horn still sit on the throne after my death?”

He revealed his inner thoughts—that if the Red Horn couldn’t usurp power, at least they couldn’t act up, which would be reassuring.

“Yes. I see the Green Horn beyond the king’s death.”

Azmosa answered with cloudy eyes. They were the eyes of a sorceress seeing the distant future. Seeing this, Caldragore’s expression softened for the first time.

“So it seems we haven’t been usurped yet.”

“……”

“That’s a relief. It appears the demon realm’s fate isn’t sealed in this war.”

Caldragore now had the strength to move in another direction. With his greatest concern gone, he resolved to fully fulfill his duty as king.

“I shall withdraw now to organize the army, Great Mother.”

“Do so. A great war approaches, so there must not be even a small blemish.”

“It will be the most glorious moment of my life.”

Azmosa gazed steadily at Caldragore.

“Indeed it will.”

She fixed her gaze on the demon realm sky beyond his shoulder.

“It will be like a flame that no king has ever reached.”

A whisper divining the future until the end.

Azmosa did not convey the final outcome to Caldragore.

It was her duty as a sorceress, but she was also the Great Mother of Istria.

Not wanting to fill the end of a dynasty with despair, she swallowed the approaching future within herself.