Richard Woz

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Jem Woz frowned deeply as he looked at the underground cellar's hidden door, solid as a fortress.

After a not particularly intense battle, their side, holding an absolute advantage in numbers, had already cleared out all the Cultists guarding the outskirts of the Beast Arena and followed the trail to discover this underground cellar.

This metal door, forged from special metal, had become the greatest obstacle blocking their path.

The terrain was narrow, and they were more than ten meters underground. Having too many people would only get in the way.

Even after several Great Knights hammered at it with all their strength, they had been unable to inflict any damage.

Other than knocking a little dust from the cracks around the door, they had not even left a dent.

Judging from the sound produced by the hammer blows, this metal door was likely close to ten centimeters thick. Forcing it open with brute strength was practically impossible.

After thinking for a moment, Jem looked at the dust shaken loose onto the ground and suddenly wondered—since they could not smash it apart, could they simply dismantle it?

He immediately ordered the Great Knights to put down their hammers and use crowbars and hoes to pry apart the stone bricks along the iron door's edges, loosening the earth on both sides...

Watching the dust continuously rise, Shire glanced at the crowd behind them and quietly asked Jem Woz with some concern, "We're more than ten meters underground. Are you sure this won't cause the tunnel to collapse and bury all of us alive?"

Jem, who had not considered that problem before, drew in a sharp breath and shook his head. "...I'm not sure, but this is the only way. I can't think of any way to break in within a short time otherwise. We can only hope whoever built this cellar did a good enough job preventing cave-ins."

"Damn!"

Whether the cellar had been well built or Jem's group had simply been lucky, they did not know.

Until the door had been completely removed, dust had flown everywhere, making Jem Woz's heart pound wildly, but no major cracks appeared. The tunnel remained extremely stable.

Jem Woz and Shire both breathed a sigh of relief and silently gave its sturdiness their approval.

After opening the hidden door and walking onward for some distance, they saw a vast, spacious chamber amid waves of chanting in an unknown language.

The most conspicuous thing within was a massive altar surrounded by dozens of black-robed figures.

Countless streams of blood flowed across it. At a glance, at least several hundred corpses lay at its center. Judging by their features and clothing, they were likely the slaves who should have been imprisoned within the Beast Arena.

Their original fate should have been to die in some future duel, but now all of their deaths had come early.

Wounds covered their throats.

From the signs of struggle all around them, they had likely still been alive when their blood was drained.

Jem Woz paid little attention to those corpses. Instead, he looked at someone standing atop the altar and asked in confusion, "My dear uncle, why are you doing such a thing?"

The man had made no attempt to disguise either his appearance or his clothing. Unlike the others, he did not conceal his face.

That man was Jem's biological uncle, Richard Woz, a member of the royal family with an excellent reputation and considerable ability.

As far as Jem knew, Richard should not have had much ambition. He was the sort who neither fought nor contended, content with a peaceful life.

Jem could not understand it. Could he have hidden it so deeply, keeping it concealed for decades?

Facing his question, Richard Woz merely wore his usual gentle smile. "Jem, this is my last hope."

Seeing the smile on his face, Jem thought of a possibility and asked sternly, "...Did you do all this because of Sena?"

Richard's smile vanished, replaced by a trace of helplessness. "...So I couldn't hide it from you after all.

"You know that because of an inherited bloodline problem, my daughter Sena was born weak and sickly, just like her mother. I have tried every method, yet I cannot cure her. Over the last two years, I have even been able to feel her illness growing worse and worse. If she is not treated soon, she may only have a few years left to live. She is only eleven!

"I promised her mother that I would let her grow up healthy like an ordinary person. So even if I must rely on a Demon, I will find a way to cure her. This is my responsibility as a father!"

After hearing that, Jem opened his mouth, wanting to say something, yet unable to find the words. He knew Richard had already reached the point of smashing his cauldron and sinking his boats, willing to pay any price.

But Richard's identity still made him offer one final warning.

"You should know very well what Demons are like. No matter what book you read, none of them describe Demons as doctors... If you give up now, I promise what happened here will not affect your or Sena's lives in any way."

"And then what? Let me watch my daughter Sena die with my own eyes?"

Richard shook his head gently, wholly unmoved. Pointing at the Summoning Ritual already successfully activated on the ground, he looked calmly at Jem and tried to persuade him in turn. "Jem, the Summoning Ritual has already begun. You can no longer stop it. If you leave, I will use the temporary Control Authority granted to me by the ritual to make the Demon cure Sena, then drive him into another country!

"What do you think?"

The moment Jem Woz heard that, he wanted to refuse at once.

But after giving it some careful thought, he suddenly felt Richard's words made a little sense. Wouldn't it be wonderful to let the Demon ravage some other country...

Hesitation immediately appeared on his face.

Safi, who had not spoken because he did not want to interfere in their family affairs and had chosen to watch quietly from the sidelines, was dumbfounded.

He truly had not expected this trash teammate, after failing to persuade someone in just a few words, to instead be persuaded himself!

This alliance was as flimsy as paper!

If they really join forces, won't the Church become the side facing two against one?

He hurriedly interjected with a stern expression, "Prince Jem, I do not think Demons are so obedient. Every history book describes them as cruel and insane. Treating such madmen as something to be used is far too irrational. If it were truly that simple, why would there have been so many Magic Disasters?"

At those words, Jem immediately thought of Orsaga. For a moment, he felt as though Orsaga were watching him, making his scalp tingle.

The wavering on his face instantly turned into resolve.

Those things really were enormous trouble. He could barely withstand one; if another one started wandering around at will, Mardon would not be far from destruction.

So he shook his head and rejected the proposal. "Uncle Richard, Demons are simply too dangerous. The chance of them losing control is too great."

Richard Woz smiled casually at his answer. "Then that is truly regrettable."

The next moment, a cloud of Pale White mist spread through the altar. A monster nearly three meters tall, with a goat's head, a human body, a serpent's tail, and black fur covering its entire body, slowly emerged from within.

"Familiar world, I, Karlra, have returned."

Though it was not a familiar language, everyone present understood its meaning.

Looking at the Demon before him, Jem did not know whether it was an illusion, but although he could still sense the other party's power, he did not feel from this Demon the overwhelming despair Orsaga inspired—the kind that made one feel like a mantis trying to stop a chariot.

After comparing him with Orsaga, he easily reached a conclusion. This one is not as strong as Orsaga.

Not merely in terms of power!

Even in appearance and bearing, he could not compare to Orsaga.

Orsaga's true form was the kind that looked immensely powerful at a single glance. Merely standing there was enough to make people tremble in fear, while his gaze could terrify soldiers hardened by a hundred battles.

Scarlet golden eyes, curved twin horns, a powerful body, savage scales, broad wings—anyone who saw him could recognize his identity as a Demon at first glance. He perfectly matched people's imagination of a Demon, more like terror condensed from fantasy itself.

The one before them was entirely different. If Jem Woz encountered him elsewhere, he might have taken him for some other kind of Demonic Beast.

Unaware that someone was criticizing him inwardly, the goat-headed Demon took a deep breath after emerging and murmured in intoxication, "A scent full of the weak. Still my favorite playground."

Before he could indulge himself for long, he sensed another smell. His brows immediately rose as he said in great displeasure, "Why is there a scent that disgusts me?"

Following the scent, he saw an old man.

The man's strength could only be considered high-grade trash, and Karlra did not take him seriously.

What Karlra cared about was the item the old man carried.

Bar ing his teeth, he said with utter disgust, "A Holy Item? The Church of this world again? You are as disgusting as maggots. Are you about to pull out that thing and make some grand righteous speech?"

The next moment, without making him wait long, Safi pulled out a palm-sized badge. "Demon, leave this world! Otherwise, we shepherds of the gods will strike you with our fiercest blow!"

Ignoring Safi's nonsense, the goat-headed Demon spat on the ground with a disgusted expression. "Disgusting..."

The moment that thing was taken out, he felt the suppressive force of the surrounding world intensify. His strength, already suppressed by seventy or eighty percent, was reduced further still.

In his eyes, these shameless little insects, whether centuries ago or now, always used tedious little tricks to lower his level before ganging up on him.

Not one of them was a true opponent worthy of his attention!

At this moment, although his strength had been reduced to a certain extent, he was not panicked in the slightest.

When he had just been summoned here, Richard Woz had provided him with quite a few sacrifices. As long as he ate those sacrifices, part of his strength would immediately recover!

By then, even if he could not casually crush the few little insects before him, protecting himself would be effortless.

With that thought, he reached toward the area behind him.

The souls of several hundred sacrifices had already been gathered there, condensed into a mass of souls that he could grab at any moment for easy consumption!

He reached out and grabbed.

Nothing.

He grabbed again!

Still nothing!

Seeing Safi and the others in the distance staring at him with puzzled faces, unable to understand what he was doing, Karlra felt slightly awkward.

Tilting his head a little, he looked behind him, where there was nothing at all.

He thought in confusion, Where the hell are my sacrifices??

Where is that huge pile of sacrifices??

Meanwhile, Orsaga, lying atop a cloud above the Beast Arena, stuffed the thing he had just obtained into his mouth and chewed twice before satisfiedly turning his gaze back toward Safi and the others.

A Priest, a Warlock, an ambitious man, and a whole crowd of cannon fodder playing supporting roles—such a hero lineup was truly rare. He was quite looking forward to what came next.