Chapter 51
The Demon Realm
The air in the Demon Realm was heavier than usual—thick, humid, and suffocating with the stench of old blood. The dark sky bled with streaks of crimson lightning, cracking silently like angry veins across a dying world. Strange winged creatures screeched as they flew overhead, circling endlessly, feeding on souls that had been discarded from previous battles.
Deep within the heart of this realm, past the rivers of black fire and the pits where lesser demons clawed at the walls, stood the throne hall.
And on that throne—made entirely from the skulls of the innocent, the guilty, warriors, children, ancient beings, and anyone unfortunate enough to fall under his rage—sat Roosevelt, Demon King, unmoving like an eternal nightmare carved into existence.
His eyes glowed with a cold, ancient hatred that never dimmed.
The hall was silent until footsteps echoed—hesitant, slow, fearful.
Devyani, one of the five demons Roosevelt held closest to his heart, bowed deeply. Even though fear trembled inside him, he kept his expression blank. Showing weakness here was the quickest way to die.
"My Lord," Devyani began, his voice shaking despite his effort to appear calm. "We… have returned with news. The battle in the Werewolf Realm did not end in our favor."
Roosevelt's emotionless voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"Did not end in your favor?"
His voice was soft. Too soft. The kind of softness that meant someone was going to die soon.
Devyani swallowed. "The three races… they fought together. Werewolves, elves, vampires. Their combined strength overwhelmed the soldiers. We were not prepared for their unity."
Roosevelt leaned forward slightly, resting his chin on his claw-tipped fingers.
"Three races," he murmured, almost sounding amused. "So they have finally learned to stand together again. How nostalgic."
His crimson eyes flickered.
"Tell me something, Devyani… do you know why they gathered the first time?"
Before Devyani could answer, Roosevelt turned his gaze to Jyra, another of the elite five.
"Jyra," he said, "remind him."
Jyra bowed his head. "Yes, my Lord. Last time they united, it was because you were falsely accused of taking advantage of the princess of elven realm, Princess Eloise."
Roosevelt let out a dark chuckle, one without joy or warmth.
"Correct. They banded together, against me not knowing what the real truth was, the werewolves in particular killed my Queen, they killed her , I thought of forgiving them, until they killed beth .
But now they have done it again, they joined their forces together—this time out of necessity."
His laughter faded immediately.
"And now… they have killed two of the ones I hold dear."
The temperature in the room dropped so drastically the stone floor cracked with frost. Every demon in the hall stiffened, too afraid to breathe.
Roosevelt slowly rose from his throne—each step shaking the entire chamber.
He was tall. Far taller than any demon. His aura alone could suffocate the strongest generals. His shadow swallowed the hall, stretching like a living creature.
Devyani lowered his gaze, trembling.
Roosevelt circled him like a predator studying prey.
"You and your brothers," Roosevelt continued, "wish to retaliate quickly. To tear them apart while your blood is still hot."
He paused.
"But we will not attack now."
Shock rippled through the hall. Even the walls seemed surprised.
Devyani dared to lift his head slightly.
"But my Lord… why?"
Roosevelt's voice deepened, ancient and monstrous.
"Because attacking while they expect us accomplishes nothing. They are prepared. They are alert. They are united."
He leaned close, his breath cold enough to freeze bone.
"No… they must suffer. They must feel the loss of breath. The trembling of fear. The uncertainty. Their dread must grow. Their hope must crumble. And when they finally believe they are safe—"
He smiled.
"—that is when we destroy them,crush them like dust."
Silence.
A trembling voice came from Daksha, the third of Roosevelt's treasured demons.
"My Lord… I saw the ones who killed them."
Roosevelt turned his head sharply.
"Describe them."
Daksha bowed. "It was not one. There were three—an elf, a vampire, and a wolf. It took all three to kill only two."
Roosevelt's laughter returned—sharp, dangerous.
"Oh, how interesting. So it took three to defeat two of mine. Then let us make this simple—when I return the favor, it will be one against one. And they will crumble."
If only Roosevelt knew the truth… but the Demon King was lost in his own rising fury.
Jyra spoke again, his voice unsteady.
"My Lord… about the soldiers you commanded me to prepare. They have been complaining. They say it is harder to find free souls in the human realm. Without souls, their strength is weakening at a very fast rate."
Roosevelt's smile spread wider, unnaturally wide.
"How wonderful."
The demons looked very confused.
Roosevelt's eyes glowed a deeper red as he stepped back toward his throne.
"So the problem is souls, hm?"
He tapped a claw on the skull armrest.
"They can't find enough souls to feed on?"
Jyra nodded quickly. "Y-yes my Lord."
Roosevelt's grin was terrifying.
"Then go to the Werewolf Realm."
A collective gasp filled the hall.
"Take," Roosevelt said, "any soul you want. Anyone who catches your eye. Drag them here. Devour them. Strengthen yourselves. Prepare."
His voice thundered like the roar of hell itself.
"This is for killing your beloved brothers."
The hall trembled violently. The skulls on the throne rattled. Darkness crawled along the walls like living ink.
Roosevelt's aura expanded until the demons were pushed to their knees.
"Begin today, do it discreetly" he commanded. "Take everything. When we attack next… their cries will echo for centuries."
His final words chilled even the strongest demons.
"Next time—they will not live long enough to regret what they have done."
The room darkened.
Shadows thickened.
The Demon King's rage burned like an unending storm.
War had begun.
Whether the werewolves were aware or not, the war already begun and it was going to crush them.
Because Roosevelt Fury would be too unbearable for them.