Chapter 525: You Called the Wrong Demon

Vaelor Vath’Ironak was seated at a council within the Goethe Empire. The table was vast, and around it sat several demon lords, each bearing a form shaped by their own lineage. The word “demon” itself was broad, misleading even, since countless demonic races existed. Some appeared almost human, others grotesque or monstrous beyond reason. Vaelor, however, was something else entirely: a wraith-demon.

“The great Mephisto still wishes for us to continue the war against Onix,” remarked Barath, a four-meter-tall demon whose hulking, scaled body resembled a humanoid reptile.

“Among the Orc Kings of that universe, it was… peculiar that one of them turned out to be a Son of Onix,” added Gargantua, a demon with skin like blackened coal. His kind thrived in volcanic regions.

Demons loved war much like they loved fine wine, and to Vaelor, war kept the gears of existence turning. He was a smith, after all. Not just any smith, but one capable of forging living, sentient weapons.

He had attained the title of lord ages ago, the moment he became the God of the wraith-Demons, after creating a weapon exclusive to his race. A soul-bound weapon. His talent was so extraordinary that it drew the attention of one of the Demon Emperors themselves, the great Mephisto Pheles.

Then Vaelor felt it. A notification surfaced in his awareness.

Hm. Someone has entered one of my temples.

Not just any temple. He had many built by his followers, scattered across worlds. This one was a legacy temple. Long ago, Vaelor had spread such temples deliberately, each one a chance for recruitment into his Path. It was like casting bottles with messages into an endless sea. He let the system scatter his Legacy Temples across the multiverse at random. In truth, the system itself demanded this of him, if he wished to gain something special in return.

When you desire greatly, you must also give. That was how the system worked. That was how legacies worked. Gods did not create Paths for nothing. Certain knowledge had to be shared, especially by those who sought followers. And Vaelor Vath’Ironak loved the ancient, honest art of the forge.

While the meeting with the demon lords continued, he focused inward, following the connection and allowing a fragment of himself to cross over. His consciousness awakened, now seeing through the statue he had crafted to serve as a physical anchor. Vaelor surveyed the chamber. It had been so long since he had built these temples that, for a fleeting moment, he found himself criticizing the architecture.

What kind of dimension is this one in?

He expanded his perception, letting it flood the entire world, sensing everything and everyone within it.

An oni-type dimension.

Onis were a form of demon. Vaelor had filled this world with them, along with other beasts. Across the multiverse, existence could be reduced to two broad categories: those with intelligence, and those without. Demons, orcs, aquatic beings, humanoids, insectoids, it did not matter. Some were driven by irrational, bestial force. Others possessed reason. The more rational a being was, the more the system favored it, unlocking greater resources and potential.

Vaelor’s gaze sharpened as he focused on the figure standing before the statue.

In appearance… a human?

Humans were a weak and common race across the multiverse, the most widespread among humanoids. What made them special was not strength, but compatibility. They were blank slates, capable of aligning with countless species. They reproduced easily, died quickly, and could be fielded in massive numbers for armies.

But Vaelor sensed something else. He is also a demon, I can feel it. A young one.

Vaelor focused and realized the young demon wasn’t using any illusion or trick to disguise himself. That was his true appearance, which meant he was likely some kind of human-demon hybrid.

“Who dares disturb me…?” Vaelor asked.

“My name is Luke, Demon Blacksmith. I requested your presence,” the young demon replied.

“Hm. Someone bold enough to attempt contact with an ancient demon?” Vaelor muttered to himself. The boy showed no etiquette, didn’t kneel, didn’t even pretend to show reverence.

Foolishness or audacity?

Vaelor leaned toward foolishness.

He rose from his throne.

“You’d better have a good reason, little demon. You are not even my follower,” Vaelor said.

The youth had entered his temple, refused to kneel, and hadn’t even accepted entry into his Order. A reckless fool, Vaelor concluded.

“I do,” Luke replied calmly. “How do I forge a core to obtain a Spectral Beast?”

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A Spectral Beast core?

His greatest masterpiece. A legacy shared only among the chosen of his clan. And this young demon had just asked about it, so casually. When Vaelor looked at him more closely, he froze.

A lord title? How does someone so young, and so low-ranked, possess one? What kind of idiot would name him a lord?

“Where are you from?” Vaelor asked.

“Earth.”

“Earth?”

Vaelor focused inward, querying the system for that dimension’s placement.

“I see. A newly integrated universe. Your universe hasn’t even passed the 51 mark yet.”

That world hadn’t completed the Yggdrasil process yet, and this demon’s dimensional layer was among the most recent additions to the system.

“You summoned me through blood, right beside the reward of my legacy. I’m curious. Why didn’t you accept it?”

“I have no interest in becoming a blacksmith. Much less in inheriting your legacy.”