Shortly after Zereth disappeared down the hall to summon the other demons, my thoughts drifted to one unfinished business
Celes's body.
A hero of her caliber shouldn't be left to rot.
Such a body could be invaluable material—whether for research, experiments, or weapons.
I called out a name.
"Nysha."
From the shadow of a pillar, a slender figure stepped out with graceful movements, her purple eyes glowing faintly in the darkness.
"Yes, My Lord," she said, bowing respectfully.
I stared at her intently. "Where are you taking Celes's body?"
Nysha lifted her face slightly, a faint smile forming on her lips.
"I have taken the body to the laboratory, My Lord. It is kept in stasis, intact. We are separating the light element from her body for analysis."
I nodded slowly, satisfied.
Of course—I wouldn't let the hero's memories disappear so easily.
"Good. Make sure no one touches it before I decide how to dismember it."
Nysha's smile widened.
"With pleasure, My Lord."
Upon hearing my command, Nysha vanished into the shadows—so quickly and silently, as if she had never even been there.
I paused for a moment.
Then, slowly, I rose from my throne. My footsteps echoed in the silent hall as I walked to the castle balcony.
My eyes gazed outside.
The expanse of burned rocky ground, the towering spires of spikes, and the thick mist that hung in the air. This world was still wild, still harsh.
This realm wasn't yet worthy of being held.
It wasn't powerful enough to be called the kingdom of a Demon King.
But that would change.
I turned, without a word, and stepped away from the throne.
My destination was clear.
The laboratory.
The place where the body of the holy hero was kept. A place where magic and curses could be created.
After walking through a long, winding corridor covered in ancient curse carvings, I finally arrived at a large room I never expected.
The laboratory.
But no ordinary laboratory.
This room was grand, magnificent—the ceiling was high, decorated with ancient magical symbols that swirled slowly in the air, emitting a bluish-red glow. Obsidian pillars towered in every corner, binding dark energy like prison bars for rebellious spirits.
Shadows flowed along the walls. A thin vapor filled the air, creating a powerful scent of metal and blood.
It was impossible to call this place simply a laboratory.
It was more like a temple of demonic research.
A place where the line between knowledge and curses vanished.
I stepped inside.
In the center of the room stood a black basalt table, surrounded by five dark-robed demons. They stood in ritual formation, each holding a magical tool or scroll.
On the table—
Celes's body.
Laid silently. Her body was intact, but the holy light that once shone from her was now confined within the demonic seals that bound her wrists and neck. The aura of light was still present, but it was nearly extinguished, like a candle flame that had been gently blown out but had not yet died out.
The five demons were busy analyzing her body, reciting spells, recording the last pulses of holy power that once shook hell.
I simply stood in the doorway and smiled faintly.
"Interesting."
One of the demons surrounding the experiment table seemed to notice my presence. His eyes widened immediately, and without a second thought, he rushed over to me and knelt deeply before me.
"Welcome, My Lord! I apologize, we didn't know you would come here in person," he said in a trembling voice, bowing his head until it touched the floor.
I stared at him intently, silent for a moment.
"You… what is your name?" I asked, calmly but with pressure.
The demon swallowed slowly before answering.
"Forgive my insolence. My name is Algor, My Lord."
I didn't respond immediately. My gaze shifted to Celes's body, still lying on the stone table, encased in layers of seals and a faint, dying light. The former glory of a hero is now nothing more than a research object.
I slowly advanced, approaching the table.
I stared at her peaceful face—too peaceful for someone who had been a thorn in the dark side for so long.
"Algor," I called without turning.
"Yes, My Lord?" he replied quickly.
"Cut off her head."
Instantly, the room grew quieter. The other demons stopped moving, staring at me for a moment with a mixture of awe and respect.
I continued in a flat voice:
"Start there. We shall see what we can still build from a hero who has lost her crown."
Wasting no time, Algor rushed to the table where Celes's body lay. With a swift and reverent movement, he drew a sword from beneath his robes—a black, carved blade, sharp, and cursed with demon blood.
Without hesitation, he raised his sword high and swung it down at Celes's neck.
CLANK!
There was the sound of metal striking something invisible. The sword was knocked violently to the side, barely escaping his grasp.
Not a scratch. Not even a speck.
Celes's body remained intact, as if protected by an invisible force that refused to be destroyed
even in death.
I smiled faintly and stepped forward, my steps calm but radiating pressure.
"Even after death, a hero's body… can still fight," I muttered, my tone laced with irony.
My hand reached out into the air. In an instant, the air around me trembled and cracked—a sword slowly formed from the vortex of dark energy that enveloped the room. Its blade was long, jet-black, with fiery red veins that pulsed like veins.
The Demon King's Sword.
As I grasped it, a hellish aura spread from my hand to the sword. The temperature dropped dramatically, and even the demons around me took a half step back reflexively.
Without a word, I raised the sword and in one clean, absolute swing—
SHRRAAKK!
Celes's head separated from her body.
The remaining blood in her body gushed out slowly, but the holy aura that had once protected her vanished completely, as if surrendering to the will of darkness.
Her head fell and rolled onto the table. Her eyes closed. Calm. But now, she was no longer a symbol of hope.
Just a material.
Algor immediately rushed over, picking Celes's still-warm head off the stone table. He bowed deeply, then carefully held it out to me, as if handing an upside-down holy relic into the hands of a dark god.
"Here it is, My Lord," he said in a low, reverent voice.
Without answering, I took the head in one hand.
Cold and Heavy.
Her silver hair still glistened, and her face still held the calm of a hero, even though her soul had long been ripped away.
This face... once dared to challenge me. Now, only memories remained.
Without a word, I turned and walked out of the laboratory, letting the oppressive silence hang behind me.
Before leaving the room, I paused and turned my head slightly.
"Algor," I said flatly. "Use her body."
"Use all of Celes to evolve our demons. A hero's body is too precious to be wasted."
Algor bowed deeply. "Yes, My Lord. We will use it to the last drop."
I resumed my steady pace through the dark corridors of the castle.
In my hand, Celes' head hung, swaying gently with her flowing silver hair.