TBR CH211

A crimson moon hung in the sky, and Kriesmeier was close enough that it felt as though he could cleave it with the scythe in his hand.

“O Demon King, O Demon King.”

Under the intimidation of his power, the moonlight trembled like water. The Demon King heard the whispers of nature, “There is nothing on the moon that belongs to you, proud Demon King, why do you linger? Angry Demon King, what do you seek?”

After “Nova” appeared, there was silence for a few seconds.

Kriesmeier indifferently gripped his scythe, hearing the cracking of his knuckles in the silence. He knew how much the spirits of nature looked down on the lowly Abyss demons, so he didn’t harbor the same fantasy as the Archmage of sitting down quietly with them for a cup of tea.

“I need it repaired,” the Demon King commanded concisely.

“That’s impossible… a unique treasure… if a great price is paid… at least let its master… host another tea party?… Let the Archmage come himself.”

Fragmented whispers arose, unable to form complete sentences.

“He won’t come,” Kriesmeier said. The moonlight dimmed for a moment, as if the Archmage’s refusal to invite them for “tea” was a depressing matter. The Archmage’s popularity—if it could be called popularity—was truly astonishing. That ancient moon in the night sky hung coldly and forlornly.

The Demon King found this scene particularly irksome.

“What did Roland use as a wager for his tea parties with you?” The demon with wings spread in the night sky lowered his voice. “Let me guess… he didn’t really care much for his life back then. Trading the risk of losing his life for the strongest light gem in history, he must have been eager to make that deal. Since he survived, that’s good, but he won’t take that risk again.”

The silent night confirmed his guess.

A wind blew from the west. His Majesty the Demon King disliked negotiation and detested drawn-out conversations. He swept his silvery-gray long hair behind him, then said lightly and arrogantly:

“How much will I have to pay after all?”

“It won’t do without Roland, it won’t do without Roland, it won’t do without Roland…”

Kriesmeier’s scythe burst into flames, almost touching the full moon. The moonlight turned crimson, and the voices in his ears instantly vanished without a trace. After a long moment, whispers like a transaction began to resurface:

“The Essence of the Moon is already shattered; a second gem cannot be formed.”

The Demon King stared at his fingertips.

“Use my heart.”

These words were clearly audible beneath the sky, then dissipated. Even Kriesmeier’s target of threat—the moon—was clearly shaken by his declaration. The heart of an Abyss demon contained immense demonic power; calculated this way, their Lord Majesty clearly possessed the most precious magical material in this world.

Honestly, this was far more significant than Roland’s life back then.

The spirits in his ears were, in the end, merely the will of nature. With the Demon King’s offer, the wind, laden with a magical contract, roared past his ears, and anomalies flickered in the night sky.

“Since you are so determined… why don’t you give him your heart directly?”

The Demon King lowered his eyes, unsurprised, as he heard this question.

If he were to directly use his heart as a magical material, the power embedded in “Nova” would be equally magnificent. However, this staff, symbolizing radiance, would probably have to change its name, as Kriesmeier’s heart carried the dark magic of the Abyss demons, a pure symbol of gloom. But that was not how a human should be.

He still remembered the countless starlight, like snow, when they first met.

“I have no intention of conversing with inanimate objects,” Kriesmeier said. “Nor do I intend to make a pact with you now. Remember my words, I will return.”

Having said that, the ruler of the Demon Realm slowly turned on his heel and walked away.

As he moved away from the moon, the moonlight became light, as if purified, regaining its original soft silver hue. He walked step by step back to his palace on the Milal Continent.

The moment the Demon King’s footsteps grew close enough for the human to hear, he was reading a book.

Roland stopped turning the page, casually picked up a bookmark, and slipped it in. He carefully set aside the ink-filled pen.

Just then, Kriesmeier pushed open the door. The human had just finished tidying up his things when Kriesmeier unlocked the cage again, sweeping in like a hurricane.

“My dear,” Roland tilted his head, “do you need a hug?”

His Majesty the Demon King gladly indulged in this privilege shared with his companion. The human reached out, finding him cold, likely having just taken a stroll outside, covered in dew and dust. The Demon King realized this and quickly unclasped his greatcloak. As he rested his chin on Roland’s shoulder, his wings incidentally enveloped him completely.

Roland opened his arms, barely managing to embrace him fully—barely, because Kriesmeier’s wings really took up a lot of space.

“We’ve only been apart for one night…”

Embracing the Demon King was a risky endeavor, as it immediately led to the difficulty of separating.

Kriesmeier was as clingy as superglue; Roland wisely did not voice this metaphor.

He heard the Demon King breathing low and slow near his ear, the demon’s heart beating powerfully against his chest through a thin barrier, as if thrumming within his own ribcage.

When Kriesmeier followed through and tackled the human to the ground, his silvery-gray hair spilling all over Roland’s chest, Roland felt it necessary to remind him. He pushed gently, of course, the Demon King didn’t budge, but the other party’s skin slowly warmed, and those unpredictable dark golden eyes looked at him as if melting.

Roland felt his heart melt. “One night is already a long time.”

“When I wasn’t here,” the Demon King asked, “were you just reading?”

The Abyss demon tried to ask indirectly, but ultimately lacked the talent. This question nakedly led to another.

“Of course, I was thinking of you,” Roland blinked.

This was another one of the human’s sweet words, Kriesmeier thought, otherwise, why would his heart beat so fast, as if encountering a dangerous enemy, even though the other was locked in a cage, stripped of all power.

It had been some time since the Archmage was locked in this cage.

Initially, every time he pushed open the palace doors, a shadow of gloom always lingered in the Demon King’s heart. But Roland consistently honored their agreement; he willingly stayed caged in a corner of the demon palace, clinging to Kriesmeier every day, indulging in theoretical research in his spare time, and never even inquiring about outside events.

Although, in his current state, he couldn’t overstep either.

Kriesmeier had expected the human to grow tired quickly, but Roland’s amber eyes always sparkled when he saw him.

Roland was generous with words of love; if the Demon King wished, he was even happy to talk for an entire night—such a thing had indeed happened, ending with the human kissing the sleeping demon’s eyelashes.

He was also unreserved in expressing affection; at least when those eyes looked at him, Kriesmeier felt he couldn’t help but believe the emotion in them.

One day, two days, three days…

A week, a month, three months, six months…

Time flowed relentlessly, and it seemed that this truly could change something.

The Demon King’s emotions visibly softened with the constant presence, no longer so easily provoked. Although he wasn’t willing to appear so easily placated, the demons of the Demon King’s City could describe their suddenly much gentler Majesty as “radiant.” The story of their liege keeping a human pretty boy also quietly spread.

Kriesmeier didn’t realize that his footsteps became more and more natural, gradually no longer pausing before the door.

It was as if he naturally returned to that period of passionate love.

The Demon King received the satisfying answer, “I was thinking of you.” He raised his golden eyes and stared at the human, seemingly evaluating his sincerity, but soon, maintaining the posture of having tackled the human, he straddled him and nuzzled the human’s neck.

It was like a beast dangerously expressing affection before devouring its prey.

As he greedily kissed Roland’s neck, the human heard a faint, low sound:

“Is everything going according to your plan?”

“What are you saying…” Roland’s amber pupils flickered for a moment, but were quickly consumed by the demon’s appearance before him. “Kris.”

The Demon King, of course, was unwilling to be led by the human every time.

Now, he was the one imprisoning Roland. So, he had instinctively learned a new posture.

The Demon King’s eyes were tinged with crimson as he straddled the human. In this position, his sharp horn would occasionally brush against the human’s neck, pricking it. Though it never actually pierced the human’s throat, it inexplicably added a sense of impending danger. And, after each time, the human felt a little heartache for the expensive rug.

However, he certainly had no time to consider that now.

He merely caressed the trembling back of the other as he leaned down to the extreme, and kissed those gold-flecked eyes.

His fingertips were damp. As he gradually smoothed Kriesmeier’s long hair downwards, the other’s body suddenly stiffened, then would always begin to struggle restlessly.

Sometimes the struggle would succeed.

But the discerning Demon King was very displeased with success in such circumstances.

Roland thought, luckily, His Majesty the Demon King had already soundproofed this side chamber very well; he couldn’t cast a silence spell now.

As the chaotic aura gradually faded from the room, Kriesmeier fastened his second to last button.

His eyes still held a lingering satiation, but he suddenly averted his gaze and said to Roland out of the blue, “…But I won’t let you succeed.”

There was something more alarming in the Demon King’s expression, though he immediately fell silent. Kriesmeier fastened his last button, seemingly glancing at the human, seeing his intelligent eyes fall into thought, and then immediately announced, trying to cover up his previous statement: “I have to go.”

“Aren’t you staying?” The human was a little surprised.

Since he had been imprisoned, Kriesmeier had wanted to cling to him day and night, essentially never allowing Roland to experience loneliness.

However, he had been going out frequently lately, perhaps for other matters.

The human tapped the fluffy carpet with his fingertips—it had now been magically replaced by the Demon King, which seemed quite extravagant. Roland had considered how many carpets they would waste in a year at their frequency, but then dismissed the thought.

Was it an internal affair within the Demon King’s City, or had the Kingdom sent another annoying hero?

If he could help…

Roland unconsciously thought too much, then suddenly realized that in his current status, he shouldn’t inquire about external affairs anymore. His pupils rotated slightly; he had simply been unable to resist falling back into old habits.

Kriesmeier stared at him.

Demons didn’t blink, which was sometimes unsettling.

Well, but the Demon King was looking at him like that, as if waiting for him to ask something. Under such a gaze, even knowing it wasn’t quite right, he couldn’t help but ask him a question.

“Kris,” Roland asked, “where did you go last night?”

“I won’t tell you,” the Demon King said, his tone rather condescending.

The other party actually just wanted him to ask that, and then for him to say this prepared answer. The human found it quite adorable for a moment, but subconsciously a gear suddenly clicked, and his mind involuntarily started turning again.

That greatcloak.

He remembered the greatcloak Kriesmeier had voluntarily taken off at first; it had a cold scent, but not one usually found on the Demon King. This scent gave him a very bad feeling, but Roland couldn’t place it. He gradually furrowed his brows in recall, feeling that a dark cloud was hidden behind this matter.

If he could follow Kriesmeier out—

Roland, at the moment the thought appeared, wisely dismissed it.

No, he absolutely did not want to see the other party disappointed again.

He thought for a moment, then stood on tiptoe and reached over the Demon King’s shoulder. The silvery-gray hair was divided into two by his wings. He tidied the hair behind the Demon King’s back, then clapped his hands in satisfaction.

“Then I’ll wait for you here,” he said.

But Kriesmeier interrupted him.

“Sometimes I don’t understand,” the Demon King stared at him. “Archmage, are you truly satisfied with being able to do nothing now, or are you just pretending not to care in front of me?”

Abyss demons possessed extraordinary regenerative abilities. Given the intensity of the chaotic things they had just done, another person might already be unable to walk.

But the tyrant of the Demon Realm had already composed himself, covering his skin with clothes, then gazing with an intimidating, oppressive stare—perhaps not so perfectly, for Kriesmeier probably didn’t mind walking around with red marks on his neck, nor did he intend to conceal the fact that he was subservient.

Anyway, no demon dared to look.

Roland paused at these words: “Because it’s you, so everything—”

But Kriesmeier still didn’t let him finish.

This ruler of the demon realm, after imprisoning Archmage Roland for several months, had his emotions increasingly stabilized, yet for some unknown reason, he noticeably began to go mad again.

Kriesmeier said coldly, mockingly, “But I can’t help but wonder what I’m doing. Just locking you up and keeping you by my side, and thinking this is the best way. The weak always deceive themselves like this. But what if the chains were to break one day? If I walked into this palace and didn’t see you, the nightmare would return again.”

“The key to the chains is in your hand,” Roland said.

“Yes,” the Demon King lowered his eyes slightly, “that’s what I’m worried about.”

He reached out and grabbed the chain on the human. The thin silver chain was incredibly strong, flowing through his fingertips like a spring. The look in Kriesmeier’s eyes as he gazed at the chain made the human’s heart suddenly quicken.

“Where did you go last night?” Roland blurted out, even though he had resolved not to ask again.

“No comment.”

“Then tonight?”

Kriesmeier said nothing.

But in a moment, Roland stumbled forward two steps, pulled by the force of the chain. The Demon King was able to raise his hand and caress the grown-out hair of the human he had caged.

The pale gold gave a strange sensation, like cold, burning flames. The human’s hair was much softer, not as coarse as a demon’s. He no longer restrained his emotions, biting the human’s lip once more.

The atmosphere between them at this moment should not have included a kiss.

But there was such a kiss.

Roland felt a spark of fire suddenly shoot up from his fingertips, his arm melting like a candle.

His pupils constricted slightly, and he suddenly grabbed the Demon King’s greatcloak, desperately pulling him closer. The kiss was as awkward as his first kiss on the other’s cold lips, unaccustomed to gentle affection, almost a bite, leaving a bitter aftertaste.

“No matter where you want to go,” Roland demanded breathlessly, “don’t go anywhere tonight.”

“What can you use to stop me?” Kriesmeier sneered, black flames burning in his eyes. “Handcuffs, leg irons, or a cage made of mithril and pure gold. You can’t do anything now.”

Revenge.

The word flashed through Roland’s mind like lightning.

The fierce entanglement just now, the intimacy without a single crack, it was like that then too, until the last moment before things happened, everything took a sharp turn for the worse. It was like that then too.

“If you can understand this, you’ll know what I want to do now.”

The human’s hand, gripping the Demon King, involuntarily loosened. But his mind was filled with terrifying fantasies, his gaze seemingly seeing a scarlet galaxy, where the stars were like blood. He had tricked Kriesmeier into an illusion, and the stars had transformed into shackles, binding the demon’s limbs, rendering even struggling futile.

If this was revenge, what would Kriesmeier do?

The long imprisonment had not truly made the human forget how to think. He abruptly closed his eyes: “Today is the full moon.”

He had a terrible suspicion—

“After tonight, I’ll give you a gift,” the demon’s lips still bore a vivid crimson stain. He said, “Now it’s your turn to find yourself powerless to stop it, forced to watch.”

The Demon King’s dark golden pupils turned into beast-like slits with excitement.

He rarely saw the human in such a terrified state.

At this moment, Roland would agree to anything, make any wild promise. He spoke incoherently, just wanting him to stay, not to sacrifice himself or engage in any dangerous schemes.

If just now the human only felt his two arms turn to candles, now his entire body was like a piece of burning wood.

“I just asked you if you were satisfied,” Kriesmeier said imperiously, even a little childishly. “But, no matter how you answer. I’m not satisfied. I don’t want to hear your apologies, nor do I want everything to go according to your plan. You shouldn’t have provoked the ruler of the Abyss demons. I will return things to you in the exact same way. I told you I would make you regret it.”

“I regret it,” Roland felt a great unease for the first time regarding his past actions, as if a knife from the past cut into his body, exposing scars that wouldn’t bleed. He numbly shook his head. “Don’t go.”

But his fingertips were forced to pull away from Kriesmeier’s greatcloak.

Kriesmeier held his scythe horizontally. His rib, presented as a past crime, emitted demonic energy that prevented him from getting closer. He whispered:

“Why didn’t you take it back then? You clearly said you wanted my heart as your gift.”

Roland struggled desperately. For the first time, the human found that the shackles, which had no impact on his movement, were so unbreakable, and outside the cage bars, so unattainable. The Demon King mercilessly walked out of the cage. He looked back at Roland, his dark golden eyes as brilliant as a god’s.

Roland strained his fingertips, but only managed to pluck one of his feathers.

If he had the power to stop all this—

The black feather floated lightly to the ground.

The human’s pupils could only reflect that retreating figure.

He didn’t know what Kriesmeier was going to do, but he could generally predict it, and thus felt an indescribable palpitation. His heart pounded like a drum. The Archmage, always fearless, was now helpless. He was confined within a sweet cage, once complacent within it, without worry.

So he couldn’t see, couldn’t hear.

“Do you know?” the Demon King, standing before the door that was about to close, suddenly spoke again. “Roland. I stayed in the Abyss for a long time, never deigning to associate with light, and especially loathing humans who called themselves light. But the first time I saw you, the stars behind you were very beautiful. That was almost despicable to me, because in that instant, I began to see only you.”

“No, don’t go,” Roland murmured, knowing he couldn’t stop it.

“Only a pure and powerful you is worthy of standing beside me, that’s what I initially thought,” the Demon King stated calmly. “Then you disappeared, after teaching me what love was. I blamed everything on your sudden departure. You made me forget, and I thought I could never forgive you. I considered pulling out your nails, breaking your wings, and caging you. I found that I actually didn’t care if you had power; every day you stayed here made me feel… happy. If this continues, I’ll overlook the old scars between us, so I always have to bring up old grievances one day.”

“You can do anything to me,” Roland’s voice sounded wet. “If you want to see ‘Nova’ rekindle its brilliance, I can try to pick the moon myself again.”

Kriesmeier sounded as if he’d heard something amusing, speaking airily, his mood even more unfathomable. “Archmage Roland, you are the most self-sacrificing human under heaven, and now you’re even stopping others from trying your hobby.”

“I truly,” Roland bit his tongue, a rust-like taste spreading, “feel very, very, very regretful. I don’t want to see you in danger; I just need you to promise me this one thing.”

“Did you ever consider others before you acted?” The human hung his head like a child who had done wrong, his amber eyes also dimmed. He hesitated for a long moment before calling out pitifully, “Kris…”

The Demon King’s face was stern. “Now you know regret, why did you do it back then?”

“Why? Because, because…” The human’s voice suddenly lost control. Roland could not escape the cage he was in no matter what. His arm wavered, then finally dropped, covering his eyes. “I love you too much, Kris. But I did terribly. I understand now. I understand that what you’re doing is completely justified revenge, but if I can still use this despicable love to beg you, then…”

“…Don’t sacrifice yourself for me.”

“Is that so?” Kriesmeier said coldly, but the Archmage, whose eyes were covered, did not notice his slightly softened gaze. “Perhaps we can still understand each other on some thoughts.”

Humans and Demon Kings were inherently similar: arrogant because of their power, and autocratic because of their arrogance, doing equally terrible things.

In fact, he knew Roland loved him; the Archmage had physically embodied the word “love.” There was probably no other lover in the world who could inspire more confidence than him, and some past events could not be blamed on him.

But the Demon King held a grudge against the human and had no intention of repenting. Under the other’s indulgence, he stripped him of his brilliance, restricted his freedom, and perhaps one day would cut his throat with his scythe.

If all this could be settled—

The Archmage still couldn’t calm down. He trembled, waiting in fear for his judgment.

“But I am different from you,” however, after a subtle pause, Kriesmeier suddenly said slowly and solemnly: “For example, I’m not childish enough to actually have to repeat the mistakes you made.”

“If you can stop me, then come over here.”

Before the words had even fully fallen, the Demon King directly locked the door, cutting off his voice.

Being called childish by Kriesmeier was a first for the human.

Roland stared blankly at the closed door, chewing on the Demon King’s last words. He suddenly realized something, his pupils constricting slightly. Through the bars, the human quickly looked at the limited space within the room not designated as part of the cage, and saw that the black feather still lay on the ground; the Demon King had not let it dissipate.

Had he forgotten, or… was it intentional?

The human fumbled, then picked up the feather.

This was his only chance. He had to leave here and catch up with Kriesmeier.

A quarter of an hour later.

The Demon King stood in a space filled with starlight. Across from him, a brilliant orb of light emitted a dazzling radiance. It was about to make a pact with the cold-faced Kriesmeier, to forge the Demon King’s heart into a bright gem.

Kriesmeier had already reached for his chest.

Just then, a loud crash suddenly echoed from the surrounding walls. The non-objective walls began to collapse; some force had directly blasted a large hole in their exterior, causing stardust to drift everywhere under the violent impact.

His Majesty the Demon King’s expression remained unchanged as he released the hand pressing against his chest.

The orb of light before him, unusually, showed a joyful emotion. Tiny voices again rose from all directions: “Roland, Roland, Roland…” Kriesmeier coldly glanced at it.

Emerging from the hole in the wall, there was no other presence but the human.

Standing amidst the explosion site of a ruin, Roland looked a little dishevelled. He had somehow gotten his handcuffs off; a mark still remained on his wrist, but his ankle shackles were still locked.

A black feather hung from his earlobe, sharply dangling near his neck, contrasting with his pale skin, like an unconventional ornament.

Seeing Kriesmeier unharmed, the human scanned him three times over before finally relaxing.

Ignoring the moon’s voice, he smiled at Kriesmeier: “I’m here.”

“Faster than I expected,” the Demon King with dark golden eyes, watched by the human’s fervent gaze, couldn’t help but offer a compliment.

He held out his hand to Roland. Roland obediently came closer, stepping on the scattered stardust and sitting beside the Demon King. The nature spirits opposite them sensed the human’s poor condition and seemed very concerned, their whispers growing clearer.

“Are you referring to this?” The human speculated about his current appearance, then said with a proud expression, “No need to worry, this is just a bit of fun between Kris and me.”

Kriesmeier sometimes admired the human’s way with words.

For instance, he hadn’t noticed how the noisy moon could become so quiet in an instant.

However, now that Roland was here, and sitting in a room originally meant for a two-sided gamble—the situation had subtly shifted, and the Demon King suddenly felt a flicker of anticipation regarding when the other party would realize this cruel reality.

The Archmage, whom it had eagerly awaited, was now sitting here,

not only not bringing a soul it coveted for a transaction, but also here to trick it.