TBR CH198

Kriesmeier had many dreams.

But he had never imagined a wedding in his dreams.

Guests flocked in, offering blessings to him and his betrothed. The Demon King couldn’t recognize most of the guests’ faces, but he could at least recognize the seven lords of the Abyss—they maintained stiff, festive expressions, and admirably restrained their hostility towards the fragile guests, behaving with utmost politeness.

Kriesmeier stood at the reception table, gazing disdainfully at the seated guests. It was incredibly difficult for him not to appear aloof, but even in his dream, he couldn’t help but be influenced by another emotion in his heart.

It was undoubtedly pure, unadulterated joy.

He felt as if he had waited an eternity, every second a torment. But he finally waited. The person in front of him smiled and extended a hand towards him, allowing him to brand them with a curse from which they would never escape for all eternity. The Demon King felt an incomparable satiety, a cruel, bloodthirsty satisfaction.

He spread his wings and attacked the other party of the wedding in front of all the guests.

The pure chapel suddenly transformed into a bloody ritual, which suited him better.

Amidst screams, he eagerly tore at the other’s chest, blood flowing out, as crimson as the flowers at the wedding scene. He yearned to pull out the other’s ribs alive, and also yearned to merge with them.

The other party did not retaliate.

“Say it,” Kriesmeier heard his own voice urgently sound, “You belong to me.”

In the dream, the Demon King could still feel the sticky touch on his fingertips. He fumbled across the other’s chest, counting his ribs upwards from the heart, but something was missing no matter what.

He suddenly looked at the other’s face.

The human’s amber eyes reflected him, as if he were a fallen god, quietly asking:

“Who am I?”

Kriesmeier suddenly opened his eyes. Subconsciously, his fingertips traced the handle of his scythe “Demoneye” all the way up until they trembled and stopped upon touching the snow-white rib. After about two or three seconds, he slowly loosened his grip on the scythe.

This was how he calmed himself down.

…Though he couldn’t remember when he developed this habit.

From the day he visited the Kingdom’s fountain square, nightmares clung to his heels, following him like a shadow. And he always quickly forgot who he had seen in his dreams, and those intense emotions vanished with them. The Demon King pressed his violently heaving chest, feeling as though his heart was unwillingly trying to leap out of his ribcage.

—He seemed to have golden hair, and also black hair.

—He seemed to be human, and also appeared in the form of other races.

—He seemed to want to kill himself, and also seemed indifferent.

The more he racked his brain, the more blurred the other’s image became. In the end, it was utterly fruitless.

Generally, Kriesmeier was accustomed to solving problems with his scythe; absolute force had never failed before. But this time was different. He was searching for a forgotten shadow, yet he had no idea why.

This time, Kriesmeier decided to approach it from another angle.

Rather than considering what he had forgotten, he considered why he had forgotten. The Abyss Demon Race was not a forgetful race; they simply found it difficult to take anything to heart, just as Kriesmeier’s eyes had never reflected his defeated subordinates. Given his current obsession, this could not have been a natural process.

So, was he forced to forget?

Kriesmeier knew that he now stood at the pinnacle of power he had never reached before.

The continent of Mirrar had been silent for years. Challengers were like ants in his eyes. He was powerful enough to look down on all living beings, capable of unleashing a devastating disaster at any moment. There should be no existence in this world with the power to tamper with his memory.

Though that was only theoretically speaking.

The Demon King lowered his cold eyes. He pulled a book from beside his throne, his gaze indifferently sweeping over the cover, which read, “The Life and Deeds of Archmage Roland Xavier.”

He was definitely the type who hated reading.

And this book wasn’t even well-written—it was entirely a sensationalized account of the late Archmage’s life, written in the tone of a tabloid.

He acquired this book by pure coincidence.

The second time he visited the Kingdom’s fountain square, attempting to find the culprit of his nightmares, this book simply fell at the foot of a statue, becoming the evil Demon King’s trophy.

“…So, when the Royal Knights arrived at that eerie, terrifying cave, they only saw a horrifying scene. Amidst the scattered corpses, the golden-haired boy prayed over and over again, and he was actually praying for the arrival of an evil god. This caused great concern for his moral character when the Archmage first emerged…”

Kriesmeier skipped this part of the content.

It was just like a third-rate adventure novel, fabricating some bizarre and vulgar content, yet desperately trying to appear to be condemning public morals with farsightedness. The Demon King felt not an ounce of pity.

Pitiful person.

Kriesmeier merely thought indifferently that when he encountered difficulties, he actually prayed for external power.

He casually flipped to a random page in the middle and continued reading.

“…But his miraculous fame was still marked by his duel with the Frost Dragon. His power was far inferior to this naturally formidable creature, but Roland’s magic circle, formed from salt piles and ink, achieved miraculous results…”

This record was what initially piqued his interest.

Most battles in this world were decided by absolute power. The only exception, perhaps, was that group of mages. They always preferred to hide behind the battlefield, not engaging in one-on-one combat with their opponents. But if one stepped into their carefully crafted traps, even a weak mage could potentially inflict incredible damage on a strong one.

That is to say,

Since Kriesmeier was unmatched in terms of raw power, he must have been ensnared by magic.

And the Demon King, with absolute arrogance, asserted that it must have been the most powerful mage on the continent of Mirrar who could have exerted this level of influence on him. As for who was granted this honor—

Kriesmeier turned the book to the last page.

“…When the news of Archmage Roland’s death at the hands of the Demon King Kriesmeier spread, the entire continent plunged into deep mourning. Never in human history, and perhaps never again in the future, would such a powerful mage appear. Although he did not become the hero as hoped, his dedication, his loyalty to light, and his pursuit of justice made his soul shine brightly…”

This book recorded that the Demon King had killed this insignificant human.

He had thought so at the time. The so-called genius mage was actually just a pretentious charlatan, who hadn’t even left an impression on him. But now, he did feel doubts.

The other party was very likely the culprit who made him forget something important.

But he couldn’t very well demand an explanation from a dead man.

Kriesmeier casually placed the book aside. It was difficult to glean more useful content from a narrative clearly mixed with personal feelings. This was merely a guess, and he didn’t want to bet too much.

The moment he inverted the book, a piece of paper covered with writing fluttered down from it like a snowflake.

—”Observations on the Demon King · Fragment Seven”

“1. The Demon King likes sweets.”

“2. Many people firmly believe that wearing garlic can ward off evil powers, but I assure you it’s useless against the Demon King. In fact, among the three common seasonings for demon beast meat—black pepper, salt granules, and minced garlic—he will choose the last one.”

“3. Don’t let the Demon King try spicy things, unless you wish to be attacked by a scythe wreathed in furious flames.”

“4. …”

Kriesmeier stared at the paper as if he didn’t understand the words on it.

In the magnificent royal hall, the mercury chandelier reflected the little princess’s crown, making it sparkle.

The atmosphere here, however, was quite tense.

On the left stood the legendary hero, who claimed to be from a distant land, bearing an incredible mission. The legendary sword in his hand proclaimed that he had gained the gods’ recognition. He was exceptionally valiant, his figure tall and straight, his golden hair like the sun.

But his expression wasn’t very good.

Following his gaze, the purple-haired woman elegantly raised her eyes, gracefully curling her crimson lips. The python on her neck also coiled once with a hiss.

“Didn’t expect to meet you here again,” her voice was like a witch’s whisper.

The hero “Bai Mingchen” pointed at the witch opposite him, extremely indignant: “You venomous woman, you almost killed me! I demand the kingdom severely punish this evil woman, otherwise she will surely harm you all and bring disaster to those around her!”

The hero’s accusations were exceptionally sharp.

He, who had always appeared refined, suddenly showed a hint of ferocity on his face the moment he saw the witch. For seven-year-old Debbie, no matter how much she liked this sunny older brother, seeing him brandish his sword in the grand hall as if to fight someone to the death on the spot, she was still frightened and immediately hid behind Hilda.

“Calm down.”

Facing his accusation, Hilda merely calmly curved her lips, then stroked the little princess’s soft hair. “There’s a child here. Whatever grievances we have, you shouldn’t scare her.”

The King and Queen sat on their thrones, looking left and then right, unsure for a moment which side to support.

The hall was utterly silent. Debbie shrank further behind Hilda.

Through the screen, Bai Shi’s urge to confront his enemy again rapidly erupted, but thankfully, he quickly regained his composure. No, he couldn’t fall for this viperous woman’s trick again and lose face.

If he revealed that she had buried him alive, Hilda might just expose his own mountains of dark secrets.

Judging by her attitude, she probably wouldn’t want to discuss these matters openly either.

“I…” The hero’s voice softened. The fleeting malice from just now seemed like mere illusion. He quickly put on a gentle, sunny smile, took a few steps forward until the little princess could see him, “No, I apologize, I lost my composure. This is merely some communication issue between Madame Hilda and me privately. I hope Your Majesty won’t mind—”

He sheathed the sword in his hand.

The situation just now was incredible. The legendary divine artifact was swung within the palace, its sharp tip, capable of cutting through anything, aimed not only at Hilda but also at Princess Debbie behind her.

This scene made the Queen’s nerves tense, almost suffocating her.

It wasn’t until the hero repeatedly assured them that he had merely acted on impulse that Debbie timidly peeked out. Bai Shi brought up the favorability interface and, with a sigh of relief, found that except for a slight decrease in the Queen’s favorability, the princess’s favorability had not changed.

Young Debbie had clearly not yet learned how to blame someone.

Although she still clung to Hilda’s sleeve reluctantly, she had quickly forgiven the hero brother who had scared her.

The King and Queen looked at the two people in the palace who were silently smiling, feeling a sense of helplessness. The two of them had clearly decided to act as if nothing had happened, yet they were secretly vying for who would stay by Debbie’s side. Originally, the King had only intended to have one of them protect Debbie closely, but at this moment, he was undecided.

“Debbie,” the hero smiled brightly and extended his hand to her, “Don’t be afraid, I will protect you well. Come here.”

However, the python silently slithered down, affectionately rubbing its head against Debbie’s hand. The girl’s gaze was instantly filled with delight. Under her parents’ complex gazes, she carefully patted the python with her hand.

“Your Majesty,” Hilda’s voice came out calmly. This was the result she had anticipated. The Chief Witch gracefully curtsied, starlight seemingly flowing on her dark purple robe. “I am happy to protect Debbie.”

The hero glared indignantly at the witch who had stolen a march on him, then immediately vowed, “I also wish to accompany Her Royal Highness the Princess.”

The situation thus smoothly resolved from being tense, and the King and Queen naturally breathed a sigh of relief.

And Debbie, free of any gloom, was happy about it.

She didn’t understand the many concerns of adults, nor could she read the threatening words on the cards. She was still too young; to her, it was simply that she had two more playmates, and her mother no longer had to wear a sad and worried expression. She never knew how many fates of children her age were recorded in the books her father secretly read late at night.

And at this moment, her fate was also reversed—

Bai Shi closed his computer.

For now, he felt he was doing pretty well. The Kingdom was undoubtedly the primary power on the continent of Mirrar. Although humans did not have innate magic, the backing of the church and their tenacious vitality still made them the most active race.

Now, he had openly gained support by virtue of his hero status.

In addition to spending time with the princess day and night, the King and Queen would also introduce him to the Saintess of the Papacy and the Holy Knight Legion. Bai Shi had long heard of the Saintess’s reputation. If he could win her favor, a mere witch Hilda certainly couldn’t lay a hand on him.

He contentedly examined the favorability interface.

At this moment, the system’s electronic voice hissed again.

“Congratulations,” it said, then urged, “Although the previous mission failed. But as long as you gain the kingdom’s fortune value, our plan can be realized. After the kingdom, there’s also the Abyss…”

“You will really keep your promise then, right?”

Bai Shi somewhat uneasily turned off the screen interface in front of him, and the Mirrar continent disappeared from his sight. Even across a screen, Bai Shi couldn’t deny that he was often completely immersed in the game world, completely losing his perception of reality, as if it were truly a tangible place.

“Yes,” the system said, “the world integration plan is already underway.”

The characters in the game were completely different from his real-life self. Sometimes Bai Shi felt an extreme imbalance, but then he relaxed when he thought that when the worlds merged, the handsome, dashing hero, adored by all, would truly become him.

Bai Shi closed his computer and looked at the sky outside the dorm.

As he walked out for dinner, he accidentally bumped into someone. The person hurried past him, their khaki trench coat stirring up a few fallen leaves underfoot. Bai Shi wasn’t watching where he was going, absorbed in his phone, and almost knocked the other person over.

The other person looked up; they had a pair of bright amber eyes.

“Sorry,” the person who was bumped said politely, “I’m in a hurry to get to the library.”

Bai Shi’s bangs covered his eyes, making him look sullen. He didn’t intend to apologize to the other person, but fortunately, the other person also quickly got up and rushed away. He seemed to be in a real hurry and quickly disappeared at the end of the road.

It wasn’t until the person had left that Bai Shi silently walked to where the person had fallen, squatted down, and picked up a small white box.

These were very expensive Bluetooth headphones, the latest model from a certain brand.

It was already evening, there was no one around, and no surveillance. As Bai Shi picked up the headphones, he told himself that this was just a stranger he had met by chance, unlikely to be seen again, and that finding him would be very difficult and time-consuming. Instead of doing that, why not just—

He quickly looked around.

No one noticed him.

He slipped the Bluetooth headphones into his pocket and walked into the cafeteria without changing his expression.

After being summoned by Kriesmeier, about fifteen minutes later, the Lord of Gluttony awkwardly knocked on the Demon Palace door.

He cautiously carried a tray with steaming hot roasted demon beast meat, absolutely fresh, even the ferocious teeth of the beast were clearly visible. On one side of the snow-white plate were three condiments.

Their sovereign had suddenly decided to try cooked meat again.

This had never happened since the legendary human left.

Salt granules could enhance the original flavor of the food, black pepper provided a special aroma to the meat, and garlic complemented the complex texture of the ingredients themselves. These three condiments were artistically arranged, after undergoing multiple strict checks, they appeared before the Demon King.

“No chili?” Kriesmeier’s voice was cold, seemingly just a normal inquiry.

“Although you requested it,” the Lord of Gluttony said euphemistically, “in my territory, chili and similar ingredients that might offend you are never stored. Therefore, it’s impossible to find them on short notice. I hope Your Majesty will pardon me for my inadequate preparation.”

The Demon King quickly fell silent again.

Only the soft rustling of his wings rubbing against each other remained in the air. He expressionlessly cut the demon beast meat into three pieces with a dining knife, then dipped each piece into the three different sauces and slowly chewed them.

The Lord of Gluttony watched the eating process before him with trepidation.

However, Kriesmeier’s expression never changed from beginning to end. The Demon King solemnly tasted each piece, as if he were carefully trying finely cooked meat for the first time. It wasn’t until the fork was placed back on the plate, making a harsh sound.

He raised his dark golden eyes, which instilled fear in all demons, his voice filled with a low anger:

“You read it.”

“Your Majesty, this… do you mean… I don’t quite understand…”

“Archmage Roland Xavier, you have all read the book written by that human.”

Of course, they had read it. The Lord of Gluttony couldn’t help but blurt out in his mind.

It was practically essential reading for all high-ranking demons in the Demon City.

Although Kriesmeier was very picky, most demons were not significant enough to capture his attention or be devoured by the Demon Lord. However, to avoid accidentally provoking the tyrant’s bad temper, everyone had read Roland’s advice countless times.

…Although this human ultimately died by their sovereign’s hand.

But it was better than nothing.

Even if the Lord of Gluttony usually ate anything in his territory and preferred heavily flavored condiments. He still pretended otherwise in front of Kriesmeier.

Think of the scythe wreathed in flames!

He didn’t want to become a well-done demon beast meat.

Kriesmeier stared at him for a few seconds.

Those cruel and indifferent dark golden eyes were like the eyes of a deity, capable of coldly piercing through one’s inner thoughts.

Then he averted his gaze. Beneath his dark cloak, sharp feathers resembled countless blades, capable of impaling any object that displeased the Demon King. But fortunately, the Demon King had no such intention at the moment. Kriesmeier simply left without looking back. His long boots made clear tapping sounds on the hollow obsidian floor.

The last thing to disappear was his long, silver-gray hair, as dim as moonlight.

The Lord of Gluttony gazed at his sovereign, not daring to ask the presumptuous question of where he was going.

As the feeling of surviving a disaster welled up in his heart, he also felt that the Demon King’s retreating figure possessed an inexplicable aura.

The Abyss Demon Race’s capacity for empathy was always approximately zero.

Aside from obvious rage, what else was there? It thought and thought but still couldn’t understand this emotion.

But for some reason, a word from Archmage Roland’s handwritten notes suddenly sprang to the Lord’s tongue.

—”Loneliness.”