"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Jem Woz's brow furrowed deeply as he stared at the impenetrable underground vault door before him.
After a relatively mild skirmish, their numerically superior forces had cleared all the cultists defending the Beast Fighting Arena's perimeter and followed the trail to this underground chamber.
This special metal door now stood as their greatest obstacle.
The narrow underground space, buried more than ten meters deep, made large numbers counterproductive.
Even several Grand Knights wielding sledgehammers with full strength couldn't dent it. Beyond some dust shaken loose from the seams, not even a dent appeared.
Judging by the ringing impact sounds, the metal door was nearly ten centimeters thick - making brute force breaching nearly impossible.
Noticing the disturbed dust on the ground, Jem had an epiphany: if they couldn't break it, could they dismantle it?
He urgently ordered the Grand Knights to switch from hammers to crowbars and picks, directing them to pry apart the surrounding brickwork and loosen the earth around the door's edges...
Watching the rising dust clouds, Shar glanced nervously at their companions behind them and whispered to Jem Woz, "We're over ten meters underground. Are you sure this won't collapse the tunnel and bury us all?"
Jem inhaled sharply, having not considered this. He shook his head and murmured, "...Not certain. But it's our only option. I can't think of any faster way inside. We'll have to hope whoever built this place did proper anti-collapse reinforcement."
"Dammit!"
Whether due to excellent construction or sheer luck, as the door was finally dismantled, though dust filled the passage and made Jem's heart race, no major cracks appeared. The structure remained remarkably stable.
Jem Woz and Shar exchanged relieved glances, silently appreciating the builders' handiwork.
Passing through the vault door and advancing further, they heard eerie chanting before entering a vast chamber.
Most striking was the massive altar surrounded by dozens of black-robed figures.
Fresh blood flowed across its surface, with hundreds of corpses piled at its center - identifiable by their features and clothing as the arena's enslaved fighters.
Their fate, originally to die in future combat, had been accelerated.
Their throats bore precise cuts.
Judging by the struggle marks around them, they'd been bled while still conscious.
Jem barely glanced at the bodies, his attention fixed on a figure standing atop the altar.
"Why would you do this, dear uncle?" he asked in bewilderment.
Unlike the masked others, this man wore no disguise - Richard Woz, Jem's own uncle.
A respected and capable member of the royal family.
From what he knew, this person shouldn't have any ambitions—the type who neither strives nor competes, content with a peaceful life.
He was utterly puzzled: 'Could it be that he's hidden it so deeply, concealing it for decades?'
Facing his inquiry, Richard Woz merely maintained his usual calm demeanor and offered a gentle smile: "Jem, this is my last hope."
Seeing that smile, Jem thought of one possibility and asked with a serious expression: "...Are you doing all this because of Saina?"
The smile vanished from Richard's face, replaced by a trace of helplessness: "...I knew I couldn't hide it from you.
You know, my daughter Saina inherited her mother's bloodline issues—frail and sickly since birth. I've tried every method to cure her, but nothing worked. Over the last two years, I could even feel her condition worsening. If we don't act soon, she might not have many years left... She's only eleven!
I promised her mother I'd let her grow up healthy like any ordinary child. So even if I have to rely on a Demon, I'll find a way to heal her. That's my duty as a father!"
After hearing this, Jem opened his mouth but found no words to say. He knew Richard was already in a do-or-die state, willing to pay any price.
Yet, given the other's identity, he still offered one last plea:
"You must know very well what Demons are. No matter which book you read, they're never described as healers... If you give up now, I promise none of this will affect you or Saina's lives."
"And then what? Watch my daughter Siena die before my eyes?"
Shaking his head lightly, Richard remained unmoved. He pointed at the already activated Summoning Ritual on the ground and calmly countered: "Jem, the Summoning Ritual has already begun. You can't stop it now. If you leave, I'll use the brief control granted by the ritual to command the Demon to heal Siena, then banish it to another country!
How does that sound?"
Jem Woz immediately wanted to refuse.
But upon reconsidering, he found the idea somewhat reasonable—letting the Demon wreak havoc in another country sounded rather appealing...
His face immediately showed hesitation!
This left Saffie, who had been silently observing to avoid interfering in their family matters, utterly dumbfounded.
He never expected this useless ally to fail in persuading the other party and instead be swayed in just a few sentences!
This alliance was as flimsy as paper!
'If they really join forces, won't our church be the ones facing a two-against-one situation?'
He hastily interjected with a grave expression: "Your Highness Jem, I don't believe Demons are so obedient. Every historical record describes them as cruel and insane. Treating such madmen as tools to exploit is far too reckless. If it were that simple, why would there have been so many Demon calamities?"
Hearing this, Jem immediately thought of Olthagia. For a fleeting moment, he felt as if the Demon was watching him, sending chills down his spine.
The hesitation on his face instantly turned into resolve.
That kind of thing was indeed a major problem. Even one was hard to handle, and if another were to roam freely, Madun would undoubtedly be on the verge of collapse.
Shaking his head, he firmly denied, "Uncle Richard, Demons are simply too dangerous. The risk of them going out of control is far too great."
In response to his answer, Richard Woz casually smiled. "What a pity then."
The next moment, a pale mist began to swirl within the altar. A monstrous figure, about three meters tall, slowly emerged from it—a creature with a goat's head, a human torso, a serpent's tail, and a body covered in thick black fur.
"Ah, the familiar world. I, Karla, have returned."
Though the language was unfamiliar, everyone present understood his words.
Looking at the Demon before him, Jem wasn't sure if it was just his imagination. While he could still sense the creature's immense power, he didn't feel the same overwhelming despair that Olthagia had instilled—the kind that made one feel like an ant trying to stop a chariot.
After comparing the two, he quickly reached a conclusion: 'This one isn't as strong as Olthagia.'
Not just in terms of raw power!
Even in appearance and aura, this one paled in comparison to Olthagia.
Olthagia's true form was the kind that radiated overwhelming might at a single glance. Just standing there, he could chill one's bones, and his gaze alone could terrify battle-hardened soldiers.
Crimson-gold eyes, curved horns, a powerful frame, fearsome scaled armor, and vast wings—anyone who saw him would instantly recognize him as a Demon, perfectly embodying humanity's darkest imaginings, as if he were fear itself condensed from nightmares.
But the one before him now was entirely different. If Jem.Woz had encountered it elsewhere, he might have mistaken it for some other kind of Demonic Creature.
Unaware of the silent criticism, the goat-headed Demon took a deep breath after emerging, murmuring with intoxicated relish, "Ah, the scent of the weak. Still my favorite playground."
But before he could indulge for long, another scent caught his attention. His brows furrowed in displeasure as he spat, "Ugh, what's that disgusting stench?"
Following the smell, his eyes landed on an old man.
The man's strength was nothing more than high-tier trash, hardly worth Karla's attention.
What bothered him was what the old man carried.
Baring his teeth, he sneered with disgust, "Sacred artifacts? The Church of this world again? Like roaches, always so revolting. Are you about to pull that thing out and start spouting righteous nonsense?"
True to his words, the next moment, Safi produced a palm-sized emblem. "Demon, leave this world! Or we, the shepherds of the gods, shall strike you down with divine wrath!"
Ignoring Safi's bluster, the goat-headed Demon spat on the ground in disgust. "Disgusting…"
As soon as the artifact appeared, he felt the world's suppression intensify. Already weakened to a fraction of his power, he was now further diminished.
In his eyes, these shameless little insects—whether hundreds of years ago or now—always resorted to petty tricks to drag him down to their level, ganging up on him in numbers.
Not a single one among them was worthy of his respect as a true opponent!
Even now, though his power had been suppressed to a certain degree, he felt no panic whatsoever.
When he had just been summoned, Richard Woz had offered him plenty of sacrifices. As long as he consumed them, his strength would immediately recover to some extent!
By then, if nothing else, he could at least defend himself with ease, if not outright crush the few insects before him.
With that thought, he reached behind him.
The souls of hundreds of sacrifices had been gathered there, condensed into a mass he could grasp at will—ready to be devoured!
He reached out.
Nothing.
He tried again.
Still nothing.
Glancing at Safi and the others nearby, who looked utterly confused about what he was doing, Karla felt a faint twinge of embarrassment.
Turning his head slightly, he peered at the empty space behind him.
Bewildered, he thought, Where the hell are my sacrifices??
Where's that huge lump of offerings??
Meanwhile, Olthagia, lounging on a cloud above the Beast Fighting Arena, stuffed the freshly acquired prize into his mouth, chewing twice with satisfaction before turning his gaze back to Safi and the others.
A priest, an Evil Sorcerer, a schemer, and a bunch of cannon-fodder extras—this was one rare "hero party" lineup. He was quite looking forward to how things would unfold.