Chapter 124: When the King Wakes
Chapter 125: When the King Wakes
Zorathys paused first because, apart from the one who had walked into his place of rest, there were six other demons—each high-ranking. He suspected they were nobles too, because they had all used teleportation magic.
He smiled in delight. His shadows moved in delight as well. He got up from his makeshift bed and snapped his fingers, making everything he had arranged disappear.
He blinked once and appeared at the spot where the captors held the children. There were about twelve of them, the majority belonging to the beast demons.
One thing that was common among them was the fact that all the children looked terrified. Even if they were about a hundred years old, these children didn’t know how to control their powers. They were still dependent on their families. They still needed to be cared for, and they were needy—much like human children at that age.
They were clustered together, bound, guarded by demons who reeked of arrogance and power. They were led by lesser demons.
Demons who reeked of arrogance because they hit the children constantly as they cried for their family members. Zorathys wondered how they had even gotten the chance to take these children from their families, because demons were very possessive of their young—especially since getting a child wasn’t easy for demons.
Most birthed one, and some who were lucky birthed two. Most high demons didn’t even get the chance to have a child due to how rare it was for their kind.
The only demons who could bear children—though it still wasn’t common—were beast demons, and he suspected that was why the trafficking took place in beast demon territory.
Zorathys’s annoyance deepened into something colder. As cruel as their kind were, they did not—and were not expected to—extend that cruelty to children, especially since they were innocent.
After this, Zorathys was going to make it known across all territories that child trafficking was not allowed in the realm. Stealing was allowed. Killing was allowed. Debauchery—yes. And many other vices like lying and laziness, both of which he embodied proudly. But selling their young kind?
That was a no.
And now, Zorathys realized that Elyn was right after all. They had to nip this in the bud. It didn’t matter that he was lazy or that he didn’t want to do the work. If they could find out the real people behind this trafficking ring, then they could stop anything related to child trafficking entirely.
He was glad, though, that he had Ignivar and Naviel. They would be the ones doing most of the work—and they were good at it too.
"You know," Zorathys asked calmly, "I understand bullying the weak, but are we stooping so low as to bully children now?"
The demon jerked back in shock and glared at Zorathys.
"Who are you, and what are you doing here? How did you get in here?" the demon demanded.
Zorathys yawned loudly, not even bothering to cover his mouth. He gave the demon a half-lidded look.
"You are loud," Zorathys informed him, "and I do not like anything loud while I sleep."
The demon scoffed and gave Zorathys a scathing look. "This place isn’t for nobodies like you."
Zorathys looked at him. The one calling him a nobody was an ogre—and quite frankly, ogres were nobodies in the realm. Most of them worked in the mines, after all.
This demon was massive—easily towering over the others. His skin was a mottled gray-green, thick and scarred. Tusks jutted from his lower jaw, cracked and yellowed. One eye was cloudy, the other sharp with violence.
A lesser demon was calling Zorathys a nobody.
Zorathys gave himself a once-over, slightly offended. He didn’t even dress like a nobody.
"The nobody here is you," Zorathys said calmly, "who happens to be bullying children."
The ogre released a disgusted sound and turned to his companions.
"Do you hear this one?" the ogre said, pointing at Zorathys in disbelief. "He claims to be someone."
"Teach him a lesson," the ogre’s companions said, hyping him up.
There were four others holding the children—four demons separate from the six high demons hiding in the shadows.
Shadows that reported to Zorathys.
But Zorathys was focused on the ogre.
"I’m going to do so," the ogre said with a smirk, cracking his fingers.
Zorathys smirked too as the ogre lunged at him, swinging a blow in his direction.
The motion barely even completed before a shadow surged forward. In the blink of an eye, the ogre’s head separated from his body.
It hit the ground with a wet thud.
Silence followed immediately.
The remaining demons froze, staring at Zorathys with wide eyes and mouths ajar. Even the children stopped crying.
"Who—who are you?" one demanded, voice shaking.
"Oh," Zorathys said mildly, as if just remembering, "right. I’m in disguise."
He snapped his fingers, and the illusion shattered immediately.
Darkness rolled outward like a living thing, shadows peeling away to reveal him as he truly was. His black hair flowed freely down his waist, his ruby-red eyes stared from half-lidded calm, and his earrings glistened with movement.
His tunic hung half-open, exposing his chest.
He leaned closer to one of the demons—a beast demon with the head of a crocodile. Scales glistened with sweat as terror seized him.
Zorathys smiled.
"I am the king."
That was enough to send the others into panic. The six high demons present tried to teleport, thinking it was better to flee now—before Zorathys truly noticed them.
They failed.
They remained rooted to the ground, fear creeping up their spines.
Zorathys turned slowly, his gaze sweeping the room.
"Don’t even think about running," he said lazily. "It wouldn’t—"
He didn’t get to finish.
One of the high demons turned and tried to flee anyway.
He didn’t make it three steps before he disintegrated—his body collapsing inward in a violent implosion that echoed like a bomb. The entire establishment shook, and Zorathys knew then that the magic cast to block out sound would no longer hold.
He heard screaming upstairs. He scratched at his ear and glanced back at the remaining demons.
He shrugged. "Don’t say I didn’t warn you."
His eyes then zeroed in on Azerion—who was eating a cake, not even paying attention to what was going on.