The woman smiled and changed feature ripping, she turned into the woman who had healed him in room eight. "Your memories are...hard to access."
"So you tried to imitate the Demon King? My mother?" Belialthorn raised his brows. He could remember now, that he was still in trial.
The woman shrugged. "What gave me away?"
Belialthorn sighed. "I can count how many times she talked with me about anything."
"You are a Demon..." she frowned at him. "But you are not from Highworld."
"Why should I be in Highworld?" Belialthorn asked. The Demon's history was as cut off as the humans on Earth. Everything began two hundred years ago. Anything before that was lost.
"There...is a Great Clan in Highworld that made an experiment long ago to create effective loyal soldiers but they made them a little too close in their image. Psychological wise. They share a very common trait, hunger for power." The woman continued to look at him.
