DKIE CH20: Sales Pitch

The flowing clouds across the whole sky were frozen into crystals by the frost chill. Looking up from below, they overlapped like the scales of a carp.

The law enforcement squad formed ranks, weaving a magical “net” in midair to create a protective shield.

But they knew clearly: if the dragon attacked with full strength, that shield wouldn’t last long. The squad captain glanced around quickly — such an uproar, yet none of the high-ranking figures had appeared. What was the meaning of this?

Just as he was still considering his next move, a human Archmage’s voice transmitted into his mind: “Fall back.”

Before the captain could react, a massive vortex appeared above his head, sucking in surrounding magic particles like a tidal wave.

He hurriedly pulled his subordinates back.

Within the storm, Luka shielded part of his face with his arm, squinting, trying to see what was happening inside the hurricane.

His feather quill hung at his waist. Somehow, Luka only stepped back a little.

Those around him weren’t so lucky—blown to the ground one by one.

It wasn’t anyone’s direct attack—just the violent ripple produced when space itself was torn apart.

Finally, Luka managed to glimpse what was above.

The sky was dyed a terrifying crimson.

Red hair was common among demons. Alec’s hair was red too, though far lighter than the dark, blood‑tinged crimson that floated above them now.

It was wrong to call him “a man.” Around the strands of his red hair lingered a faint, bloody mist.

“The Demon King.”

Luka had imagined the scene of the Ten‑Thousand Realms Assembly countless times, but he never thought it would be like this—before all eyes, the Demon King tore open space to rush to his son’s rescue.

“Heh.”

What had he just said? Ah yes—men’s worst flaw: other people’s children always seem more pleasing the longer you keep them.

The feather quill spoke suddenly: “Strange.”

Few noticed that the Demon King’s hand had actually been slashed by the frost dragon’s ice blade—a small cut.

The Demon King’s bloodline was immensely powerful, its aura perceptible even from afar. Yet, in terms of sheer purity, it was actually slightly inferior to Luka’s own.

“What is it?” Luka asked.

The feather quill suppressed its doubt and gave no reply.

High above, Alec had long lost the calm he had when first arriving at the plaza. The joy of surviving certain death made him lift his gaze eagerly toward the tall figure in front of him. “Fath—”

“Lord Berlanie.” The Demon King interrupted him directly, turning instead toward the ice‑blue form that was practically blending into the sky. “Since when did a mighty dragon enjoy quibbling with a junior?”

With a wave of his hand, the freezing cold that could freeze all things was scattered.

The Demon King’s tone was calm, neither heavy nor light, but it made everyone’s hearts tremble.

Had this been any normal opponent, they would have already submitted under such close pressure. But unfortunately, his opposite was a dragon.

The frost dragon’s tail swept lightly, and the demonic qi that devoured all things was shoved aside as though gelatinous.

“A junior?” boomed the ice dragon, its voice filled with ridicule. “The one you call ‘junior’ was just teaching our dragon clan how to spend money.”

Across all races, the first reaction to those words was the same—

Alec is insane, isn’t he?

No wonder he was smacked into the sky. Even the Demon King himself would not casually lecture dragons; what gave him the right?

Knowing this was a moment he absolutely couldn’t remain silent, Alec hurriedly braced against the extreme cold, struggling to get back on his feet.

Facing a supreme being, he dared not embellish or distort—bowing his head, he related every detail of what had just happened below.

His voice strained so badly, even his vocal cords twisted.

People said demons were eccentric in temper—yet in truth, weren’t dragons the ones truly unreasonable?

To show respect and keep the matter hidden, sparing dragons from others’ schemes, he had deliberately used a water wall to block outside probing.

Who could have thought that after the evidence was secretly recorded, the dragons would instead turn on him?

This baffling injustice left Alec stifling his anger, forcing himself not to let his face twist with resentment, lest it further provoke the dragon.

When he finished, Alec furtively checked the Demon King’s expression.

Demons weren’t known for cherishing family ties, but this was his only blood son. If Luka had any place in the Demon King’s heart, Alec would be in serious danger.

Yet the Demon King only stood calm, as though listening to an ordinary report.

“So Father truly doesn’t care about the life or death of his first son,” Alec thought with secret relief, suppressing the urge for a triumphant smile.

After hearing everything, the Demon King lowered his lashes slightly, glancing down at the sea of tens of thousands of heads below.

The will of a King was everywhere.

One faintly detached glance from above, and everyone felt whom that gaze fell upon.

The silver mask on someone’s face was instantly seen through.

Unlike during the opening ceremony, when he had ignored a small figure entirely, the Demon King did not turn away this time. Nor did he give him true attention.

His gaze stopped instead on the display board beside a stall.

Each featured work came with an introduction board—race, work, details—Luka’s stall was no exception.

After glancing lightly at the word “Human” written in the race column, the Demon King’s oppressive voice finally sounded:

“Iliad… since when did my son become a human?”

When he said my son, he stated it with the pure emptiness of fact, no sentiment attached.

The Demon King looked down with detached calm, no emotion at all.

Silence tore through the plaza. For several heartbeats, thought simply stopped.

Then, countless stunned eyes turned toward Luka.

My son… the Demon King’s son!

Compared to the towering crimson figure in the sky, the boy nearby was frail, low in magic, and even trembling under the unrestrained pressure in the Demon King’s words.

Others could at least resist demonic qi somewhat; Luka stood right at the storm’s center, shadowed by his father’s overwhelming aura.

He looked dimmed and fragile, standing next to a stall full of cute and useless merchandise. The contrast was absurd and ridiculous.

“Not so much demon,” people thought instinctively, “as some disgraced noble.”

Shock, rejection, complexity swirled across every face. Who could have imagined—the controversial “group‑pet author” was in truth the Demon Prince of the abyss?

The revelation dwarfed all the headlines of a year combined!

Of all present, Cullen was the most shaken. The mystery of Luka’s existence was laid bare—the truth more fantastic than he ever imagined.

At last he understood why Luka’s family had been extinguished.

‘Iliad.’

That name was even more famous than Luka himself. Nearly everyone on the continent knew the story—that the Demon King and the Holy Maiden once bore a child, whom they named Iliad.

Perhaps the union of human and demon was destined to be cursed. Despite having the blood of two supreme beings, the child was born with almost no magic sense—the elements themselves rejected him.

After the Demon King and Holy Maiden parted ways, news of their son dwindled. Later the Demon King installed a new crown prince. Public opinion held that the first child had long since perished.

Who would have thought—he hadn’t died, but instead was writing novels in the Holy City.

The Rhein Chamber’s steward, standing at Luka’s booth, was stunned despite himself. “You…”

“I’ll handle the sales myself,” Luka replied, glancing at him. He never once looked to acknowledge the Demon King in the sky—just turned to set upright the promotion board that had been blown over.

So much spectacle. A pity the whole family reunion wasn’t here.

The Holy Maiden, his mother, usually never attended such secular gatherings, only presiding at sacred rituals. That was why she wasn’t present today.

The enormous plaza fell utterly silent for two whole minutes.

For perhaps the first time, Luka’s feather quill stood as a bystander, watching tens of thousands of pupils dilate at the same time.

“No wonder this kid writes so much about pupils contracting, expanding, dilating.”

Truly, this was an earthquake of eyes.

In the heavy silence, the looming battle also found pause. The Demon King and Berlanie did not truly clash. Had they fought in earnest, the entire plaza would already be in ruins.

This was Holy ground, human domain. Human powers could never allow it. Continuing was pointless.

Alec wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, descending behind the Demon King.

As his gaze brushed across the inconspicuous figure, gloom flickered in his eyes.

That discarded half‑breed had still stirred up a storm in the Holy City.

“A brief, withering bloom,” Alec thought.

The audience and market for Luka’s works were small to begin with. Dragons were fickle: intrigued one second, turning on you the next.

But as if oblivious to all the malice, once his body slightly adjusted to the pressure, Luka spoke again.

“Thank you all for your support of my novel Beloved Three and a Half Years Old.”

The freshest billboard reflected rows of finely dressed nobles. Luka glimpsed a hem of his father’s robe in the mirror surface.

Everyone thought he was about to capitalize on the heat, to sell merchandise, or try to befriend dragons.

But instead, Luka only swept the crowd with a calm glance.

“My new book, Group-Pet Three-and-a-Half-Years-Old, Part II, as well as My Demon-King Father, will soon be released. I hope you will all continue to support me.”

The words crashed like thunder.

Even Alec, trailing behind the Demon King, staggered at the announcement, nearly twisting his ankle.

“Little Monster Part II, projected at two hundred thousand words. Unlike the first book, this one will include…”

Yet almost no one heard his book statistics. All ears strained for what came next.

“The other book will gather confidential accounts—dark family secrets and the like—bringing readers a different side of the Demon King.”

A searing blast of fire shot toward Luka.

But Alice scattered the flames casually, laughing. “Since when did demons enjoy bickering with juniors?”

She had thrown the Demon King’s own words right back at him.

Her grin was eerie, and none dared answer. Yet when her gaze landed on Luka, her eyes softened. “Go on, continue.”

True to her nature, Alice found Luka deeply appealing. Never in centuries had she seen anyone openly “ult” the Demon King to his face. It struck right into her heart.

With a dragon shielding him, Luka murmured thanks.

So polite.

Alice’s eyes grew even fonder.

Luka had prepared well. He produced a new magical billboard from his storage ring. Its screen blazed with lines of text scrolling rapidly.

The childish font danced wildly. The opening line was plain—

【The greatest reason a mother might not love her child… sometimes comes from the child’s father.
The Holy Maiden, revered by millions, braved hardship and crossed all barriers, just to be with the Demon King.】

He had convinced the feather quill to make this billboard; the latter delighted in chaos and was more than happy to cooperate.

Suspended aloft, the words were visible to all.

【For him, she fell from her lofty heights. For him, she abandoned her noble status. For him, she chose to settle in the Demon Realm.
At that time, the Demon King’s mother, Isabella, was growing bitter with age. His sister was malicious, scheming against her constantly.】

At first, eyes merely skimmed the line. But quickly they were riveted.

Scandalous secrets!

Everyone stared unblinking, even the enforcers and hidden human elites straining for a look.

Isabella—the famed iron general of the demons, feared for cruelty and rigidity, unseen for decades. Most assumed her dead.

The Demon Princess—once touted as the continent’s second beauty, overshadowed completely when the Holy Maiden emerged. Forgotten.

Who would believe that after marrying the Demon King, the Holy Maiden endured both mother‑in‑law and sister‑in‑law’s torment?

Explosive. Juicy. Impossible to look away.

The words scrolled on—

【The Holy Maiden was born serene and indifferent, asking nothing of the world. She ignored all of it.
She thought her life would go on peacefully.
Until one day, she accidentally overheard her mother‑in‑law and sister‑in‑law’s conversation. Then she realized the Demon King’s reason for marrying her—
was nothing but…】

And then it cut off.

Replaced with cold recommendation text—

Coming soon: My Demon-King Father

Followed by a disclaimer: “Artistic creation—do not take literally. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.”

Coincidence? Hardly.

But what? What was the reason? Write it out! thought all.

Yet, with the subject himself present, who would dare actually ask?

Someone risked glancing at the Demon King, but their soul screamed as unbearable pain split through them. The warning was deadly clear.

Safe to say—his mood had already reached absolute zero. The temperature itself was falling by degrees.

Alice only laughed on, beckoning Luka closer protectively, then asked with curiosity: “But isn’t your book called My Demon-King Father? Why does it read like a tale of the Holy Maiden?”

“Because the man was absent, as always, when it came to marriage,” Luka replied.

“…”

More than a few ladies on the plaza suddenly felt a sting in their hearts.

Even some noblewomen who had scorned Luka a moment ago now pictured their own domestic grievances. Their faces darkened.

A row of men in the line behind glared daggers.

You’re a man too! How dare you attack indiscriminately!

While they fumed, Leo suddenly stiffened. “Careful.”

The air trembled violently—space itself tearing open.

Few creatures could rival the speed of dragons, yet in short distances, overwhelming power could match or suppress them.

The Demon King had chosen his strike.

Seeing it firsthand, Alec was beside himself with excitement.

Power—this was true absolute power!

Even three dragons nearby could not shield Iliad from death.

The move wasn’t to hurt dragons, but to catch weaker prey in its edges—and Luka would be the first victim.

As the killing wind descended, Luka had already prepared.

He came today for two purposes: to use the Demon King to advertise his new books with maximum exposure, and to leave a deep impression on dragons. Both achieved. From the moment he answered Alice’s question, Luka was ready to flee.

He measured his chance, the quill whispering a single word: “Run.”

At once, Luka took out the space scroll.

But at that very brink, a gentle force fell instead.

The cracks of space miraculously sealed. White motes of light floated across the air.

When its source appeared, every human heart jolted.

From within the clouds—

“Saint…” thousands bowed in reverence. “Saint, my lord.”

The Saint.

The true guardian of the Holy City. Humanity’s supreme protector.

The clear winds soothed like balm, neither domineering like dragons nor invasive like demons.

Above Luka, the dread vortex dissolved. Only white clouds remained.

“I told you long ago, such formalities were unnecessary.”

It was a young voice, unexpectedly gentle.

All the turmoil that had boiled since the Demon King appeared was instantly pacified.

Luka lifted his gaze, unable to see the Saint’s face clearly through the clouds, yet strangely, he felt a sense of reality—as if this was someone you could actually talk to. Not awe from afar, but something like equals.

In universal reverence, the Saint simply repeated the rules of the Assembly—addressing them to the Demon King.

The Demon King’s reply was only a sneer.

“There has long been agreement between our races—not to slander each other’s side in writing.”

“…And further, by your own ‘rules’—Iliad’s registration remains under the Demon clan. What standing does the Holy City have to protect him?”

The Saint did not reply immediately.

Instead, her gaze drifted down.

Now that Luka’s identity was exposed, guests all around had drawn back—leaving him conspicuous, standing alone.

His long black hair lay smoothly against soft fabric. His aura was rare, calm.

Unlike his Demon King father, unlike his Holy Maiden mother.

After that one look, the Saint finally answered the Demon King—her tone soft:

“He is still only a child.”

A great Demon King, bickering with a child?

“…”

Author’s Note:

Excerpts from Luka’s Diary:
We are all children.

The Saint passed by, left a like.
The Demon King passed by, stomped once.
The dragons flew past—tipped ten million.

Luka: Don’t randomly enter people’s diaries!