Why had demons yet to conquer the continent?

After all, as Midnight had said some months ago, taking down the weakest of them required at least a well-seasoned team of gold to platinum ranked adventurers. In other words, a team of elites.

With such a power disparity, demons should have crushed the humans ages ago, should they not have?

So how, then, did the alliance of races still stand against such overwhelming strength?

There were a few explanations for this.

The first, and simplest, was the sheer difference in population size. If one counted humans, demi-humans, and all allied sentient species, there was approximately a one to ten difference between demons and humanity.

Still, even taking that into account, a Mono, the weakest demon, could kill ten ordinary humans with a swipe of its claws, so that was not the main reason. And when it came to the elites, the difference dropped to only about one to two or three.

Moreover, Midnight's statement only applied to a Mono, or at most, a Duos, and did not account for the seven ranks above. By all means, if a platinum-ranked adventurer was the apex of power the demons were up against, the alliance would have been swallowed long ago.

But it was not, far from it.

In the alliance too, there existed ranks far above that of a platinum-ranked adventurer, and that was where the main problem lay for the demons.

A single Grandmaster level human was equivalent to a Demon Lord, or a Septis, and among the demons who had reached this world, there were not many Demon Lords.

And there could not be more, as the world would not allow for it.

Indeed, the demon's numbers were restricted by the world itself or rather, by the mana. To understand this, one had to understand what exactly it meant for demon kind to invade a world.

Simply by existing, demons constantly converted mana into miasma, a substance toxic to humans, but a source of power for the demons.

The mana was converted within their cores, and each time a demon would use its abilities, that newly formed miasma would be released into the air, pushing out the mana, and corrupting the lands.

This was a crucial process to their advance, as great amounts of mana intrinsically resisted the miasma that existed within demons.

One could think of it as the demons acting as a sort of vaccine. The principle went as such:

Weaker demons would be sent first so that the innate response of the ambient mana would not be too overbearing. Then, they would corrupt the mana, expand demon territory, which would weaken the mana's response, and allow stronger demons to arrive without the risk of instant rejection. These stronger demons would increase the rate of corruption, allowing for stronger demons to descend even faster, and so on and so on.

This process would be repeated until one of the nine Demon Kings would be permitted to descend, and at that point, the world would be considered as good as conquered.

Everywhere else, that had been the case.

However, a demon king had already descended upon the continent, and yet, it had not been conquered.

This had happened because the demons had made a miscalculation. Usually, except for the truly mighty realms, Grandmaster was generally the peak of power that the demons encountered, but this place… as unassuming as it seemed, it was strange.

There were way too many above that rank, way too many transcendentals!

Unkillable, invincible beings that completely halted the demonic crusade. Beings that, at the very least, a Demon Prince, an Octa, needed to face for any hope of victory.

In short, the story was that demon kind and the alliance of races was at a stalemate. The demons could not expand their territory any further, and because of the restrictions, they were unable to bring forth more demons. Their numbers were stagnating.

Of course, there existed many other variables, such as the purification abilities of priests, the ability of mages to prevent demons from connecting to mana, and even the monsters and beasts of the continent which, although not necessarily intelligent, actively opposed demon kind.

And… many other less-known truths as well, but these were inconsequential to the current situation.

What mattered was that the demons needed a way to break the stalemate, and to do this, they concluded that there was only one solution.

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The Grandmasters and the Transcendentals had to be exterminated. With them out of the picture, the alliance's loss was all but guaranteed.

And so—

A demon with a golden heptagram on its forehead spoke to the wind. "Power flows through you. Begin the operation."

When a black mass of energy entered him, his own sigil's golden radiance increased to levels he had never experienced before, and he let a wicked smile curl his lips.

Throughout the entire world, the same was happening with others of his kind. Some bore the golden heptagram, some an octagram, and a single one bore an enneagram, a nine-pointed golden star.

—

In a dark, damp cave near the Forest of Dreams sat a bald man with two sickles in hand. His clothes were tattered, and he appeared to be a beggar, but he stroked the poorly groomed beard hanging from his chin with a serious, yet strangely dignified expression. "Ah. No matter how many you send–"

Two beings with long white hair and horns protruding from their foreheads crossed their arms. One of them spoke. "Silence"

The man was shocked to see that even for just a moment, he could no longer open his mouth.

—

One of the two demons had lost an arm, and black blood seeped from a wound that refused to close on his chest. He coughed more blood, and he fell to his knees. He lowered himself and retrieved seven broken cores from the ground.

He pulled his remaining arm upward and looked at the head of the bald man.

That was all that was left of the man. Just a head. The demon spit in his face. "Ah… even if just a halfling… to think we were able to kill a Transcendental… All that preparation was worth it after all…"

—

At the very summit of an unknown mountain, a bronze-skinned man stood, black blood smeared over his mouth, hands, feet, chest, and face. He crushed seven broken cores in his palm and ingested the powder that resulted.

Soon, another demon landed on the mountain peak. He looked around, and noticed the broken cores of a Hexen still on the ground. He clicked his tongue. "You defeated an empowered Septis and a Hexen… What a monster. Our intel was wrong."

The man smiled, his blackened teeth showing. "Are you here to play with me too?"

The demon clicked his tongue again, and he retreated. He understood what the man's abilities were. "...I urge you to savor this victory for as long as you can… more will come in due time."

The man waved goodbye and he turned his back to the demon who promptly took flight. "Hmm… would my disciple have scolded me if she had seen this….?"

—

Near the sea, an old man fishing by the dock laughed as an obscured figure with a golden eight pointed star on its head approached him. "Haha!" he laughed. "You think too highly of me!"

—

At the bottom of a volcano…

In the middle of a desert….

Sitting atop a cloud….

In a small remote village….

In an affluent mansion….

Centuries worth of intel, preparation, and planning, the demon's plan was in full motion. Of course, this could have been done sooner, but if before their chances would have been even, now, simply because of the massacre caused by Aurelius, the demons held the slight advantage, which was more than enough.

All they needed to do was break the balance.

All they needed was to obtain more victories than losses.

Not too far from the Dreadmoore Duchy, Irina of Dreadmoore fell to the ground, her sword in her mouth and her breaths heavy. Both of her arms had been broken beyond repair and one of her legs was missing.

"Heh… my Lady, it seems I've glimpsed into the next realm. Now, perhaps I can be of more use to–"

Behind her, a being with long black hair shook her head. "Anything below a Septis really is useless. But still, they managed to bring her to this point," she said as her claws cleaved through Irina's neck.

She licked the crimson blood seeping from them and she smiled. "Instead of facing my assigned target… Should I just go and finish off the ones who survived?"

She liked her own suggestion and took flight.

—

Back at Collosseo, Evangelina grew irritated with the prolonged battle. "Just how many of these things are there….?"

Because hundreds of thousands of people stood behind her in Colosseo, Evangelina could not stop vanquishing the monsters.

Yet, every time she disposed of one, dark energy would escape its body, flying to who knew where.

She did not like it at all, but what could she do? The monsters had to be killed, and without her, the city would be overrun. She was well aware that she was being used as a puppet, and yet she had no other choice but to act as one for now.

She grit her teeth and pierced through a hundred goblins at once.

Anger was bubbling within her.

—

Within Colosseo, all citizens and participants of the Tournament had been instructed to evacuate through the northern gate and to leave the monster extermination to the soldiers.

Verity frowned. "...Why would they attack this place knowing the strongest people in the world would be here, and…" He looked around him, puzzled. "Where did that archer guy suddenly run off to?"

There was something off about this entire situation, but Verity could not put his finger on what exactly.

Beside him, Felicia unsheathed her sword. "Well, this could be fun too," she said, a smile on her lips.

Hoshino sat on her staff and rose into the air. "Shall we join the battle, my Knights?" she exclaimed.

Verity wanted to interject, but before he could, a soldier in golden armor appeared before them.

"You all are absolutely forbidden from participating in the battle." He bowed courteously. "I, the fifth blade of the Emperor, will personally escort you to safety. Promising talents must be nurtured, not thrown to the wolves."

Felciia raised an eyebrow. "What? Is the Emperor seriously telling us to stand down? We're probably among the stro–"

Without even letting her finish, the soldier let out a long, exasperated sigh. The sheer annoyance in his voice gave even Felicia, who had worked in customer service for years, pause.

He scratched his head. "Listen, what do you think you can do?" His eyes looked tired, as if saying 'why am I the one who has to take care of these brats'

He pointed toward Felicia. "You're strong, sure, but every Knight within Colosseo could give you a run for your money. Don't underestimate the Crown, kiddo. Even if you go out there, you'll be nothing more than a drop in the bucket, and with the Transcendentals out there too, you're probably less than a drop!"

Felicia wasn't sure what to say.

He threw his arms into the air. "His Majesty told me to bring you to safety because you were the future of the continent or whatever, but if you can't even understand why you need to run right now, then our future is dim!"

Felicia stepped back, and she slowly sheathed her sword. "A-Alright, I get i–"

"Ahh! Seriously! You give a sword to a kid with a little talent and they suddenly think they're the Heavenly Sword! Just sit tight, train, and join the fight when you're ready! Why are you all so eager to throw your lives away!?"

Felicia's voice could barely be heard. "O-Okay, sir Knight. I under—"

"You think I want to do this!? You think I don't want to be out there protecting my birthplace, huh!? But NO, I'm here! Escorting a bunch of kids instead!"

"I GET IT!!" Felicia shouted.

There was silence. Verity, Ifedolapo, and even Hoshino, who had been slowly lowering herself to the ground, could not find the words to retort.

Midnight had since long slipped out, of course, and Marco was nowhere to be seen either.

Afraid to trigger another outburst out of the Imperial Knight, the three trailed behind him silently, watching the man drag his feet as though he'd been forced to do this.

As they rushed toward the evacuation site, Verity, for some reason, couldn't help but feel uneasy.

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