The Struggle for Authority

"It feels so lively..."

A voice came from not far away.

Ankela and the black-robed Priests present froze for a moment, then instinctively turned toward the direction of the voice.

A figure was standing there. No one knew when he had appeared.

He was a two-meter-tall Demon wearing a black robe.

He was exceptionally handsome, with striking features and a tall build. An alluring, mysterious charm surrounded him, drawing in everyone nearby like a potent poison.

He stood there now, looking at Ankela with a smile. His expression seemed calm, yet carried a hint of mockery.

"You..."

Ankela paused, a little surprised. "You dare stand in front of me?"

He spoke with ill intent.

The expedition had ended, and now the lesser demons around him mostly didn't dare appear before him.

There was only one reason: they feared he might casually kill them.

Demons were chaotic, warlike creatures, and even the mightiest Demon Lords were no exception.

Under normal circumstances, staying close to a Demon Lord was already extremely dangerous.

And with the Demon Lord injured, it went without saying that the danger was even greater.

Anyone who showed up could easily be attacked. He could find an excuse to kill them right then and there.

This was perfectly ordinary.

After all, in this territory, every lesser demon was, in theory, a potential rival and enemy to the Demon Lord.

Every lesser demon coveted the throne beneath his feet.

So even in ordinary times, Ankela would seek out powerful lesser demons nearby and eliminate them while they were still weak.

That was how things went in normal times, let alone now, when he had suffered a serious injury.

After such an injury, he was far more vulnerable than usual. At this moment, anyone who dared appear before him would be