บททั้งหมดของ Demon's Evolution: บทที่ 611 - บทที่ 620

I chuckled, a dark and menacing sound, as I surveyed the unconscious form of Lucifer at my feet. "Weak," I muttered, shaking my head in disdain. These mages, once so proud and powerful, were no match for the sheer force of my will.Turning my gaze to the remaining mages, I could see the toll my aura had taken on them. Their faces were pale, their bodies trembling, as they teetered on the edge of consciousness. The pressure I exerted was too much for them to bear."My mana is running a little low," I mused a hint of amusement in my voice. With a casual flick of my wrist, I unleashed one final, devastating wave of pressure, watching as the mages succumbed to the overwhelming force, their bodies crumpling to the ground in a lifeless heap.Of course, they were still alive. They were just unconscious.The air was thick with the scent of fear and defeat, a testament to the sheer power I had wielded. I stood tall, my eyes scanning the scene with a sense of grim satisfaction. These mages had

As I stepped out into the bustling streets of the capital, I couldn't help but feel a prickle of awareness at the back of my neck. It was as if unseen eyes were watching my every move, cataloging my presence for some unknown purpose.Sure enough, as I wove through the throngs of people, I caught glimpses of figures lurking in the shadows, their gazes fixed intently upon me. These were no ordinary citizens, but rather a network of informants, each one beholden to their respective masters within the city's intricate web of power.While their curiosity was understandable, given the rarity of a carriage entering the capital, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease. Were they simply gathering information, or did they harbor more sinister intentions? The thought of unwanted complications arising from my presence here weighed lightly on my mind.I quickened my pace, my senses heightened as I navigated the labyrinthine streets, ever mindful of the unseen eyes that followed my every step.

Horn had, in effect, saved the man from a catastrophic outcome, and yet, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of fear. Had he really done the right thing by intervening?Would Ethan turned his anger to him?Ethan despised such frivolous displays of power and privilege more than anything else. Some may have labelled him a demon or a devil, but the truth was far more nuanced. It wasn't that Ethan engaged in outright evil acts; he wasn't like many nobles who toyed with the lives of commoners, nor did he indulge in the vices of women or drugs.No, Ethan's vice lay in his propensity for destruction. When the urge to demolish took hold, he would become consumed by it, losing himself in the throes of his compulsion. In one such episode, he had accidentally taken the lives of several nobles, his mind clouded by the red mist of rage.It was a burden Ethan carried, a dark self that haunted his every waking moment. He knew that his actions, though unintentional, had caused immeasurable pain and s

Yet, as I observed Lance's measured movements and the subtle intensity that seemed to emanate from him, I couldn't help but wonder what lay beneath the surface. Was this merely a facade, a carefully crafted persona designed to captivate the assembled guests? Or was there a deeper, more complex individual hidden within – one who had earned his place among the elite through more than just the accident of his birth?A wry smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I recalled the memory of a time long past – a moment when I had, quite literally, put Lance Ironwing in his place. It seemed that the little "beating" I had administered back then had indeed set him on the right path, forging him into the formidable figure that now commanded the attention of the assembled nobles.As the accolades and praise rained down upon Lance, the nobles marveling at his unblemished record of victories along the northwestern border, I couldn't help but feel a twinge of satisfaction. "Not a single defeat, huh

Gislain's features shifted, the momentary levity giving way to a more serious expression as he posed his question. "Anyway, do you think he will come?" he asked, his voice tinged with a hint of anticipation.Duke Ifrit's mood had soured, the once-jovial atmosphere now tinged with a palpable tension. For some reason, he no longer wished to partake in the festivities, his gaze growing distant and his posture stiffening."Don't you already see him?" Duke Ifrit finally replied, his words laced with a hint of cold disdain.Gislain, his son, was immediately taken aback, his eyes sweeping across the crowd and the tables surrounding them, searching in vain for the elusive figure. "Not there," Duke Ifrit muttered, his tone clipped and unyielding, "he's at the corner of the round table."Why had this bastard come, Ifrit wondered, his jaw tightening with barely contained frustration. Was it to once again embarrass their family, to sully the Ifrit name with his reckless actions? True, he had miss