Chapter 334: The Gathering of the Upper Blood

The warden felt it clearly.

Even though he was a demon, the first thought that entered his mind when Yuuta’s crimson eyes met his was something he wasn’t accustomed to feeling toward a chained human.

Fear.

It came suddenly, freezing his body before he could understand why. There was no overwhelming aura coming from Yuuta, no magic filling the cell, and the human could barely even hold his head upright. Yet for those few seconds, the warden’s instincts reacted before his mind could.

Then the feeling disappeared.

The strange intensity within Yuuta’s crimson eyes faded almost as quickly as it had appeared. His eyelids weakened, his head dropped forward again, and whatever small amount of strength had allowed him to look at the warden seemed to leave his body.

The warden finally breathed again.

"What the fuck was that...?"

He tightened his grip around the axe before cautiously approaching the prison bars. He leaned closer, trying to see Yuuta’s face through the darkness while keeping enough distance that the chained human couldn’t possibly reach him.

Yuuta’s lips moved.

"...Water..."

The warden narrowed his eyes.

"Someone... water..."

The words were barely more than a dry murmur. Yuuta’s voice disappeared again immediately afterward, his head remaining lowered as if even speaking those few words had exhausted whatever strength he had recovered.

The warden stared at him.

Then his expression suddenly changed.

"He’s awake."

That was the only confirmation he needed.

He immediately turned away from the cell and hurried down the corridor, the heavy axe bouncing against his back with each step. His orders had been unusually specific: the moment this particular prisoner regained consciousness, the Demon King was to be informed personally.

Whatever meeting was taking place, the message couldn’t wait.

The sound of the warden’s footsteps gradually disappeared into the prison.

Inside the cell, Yuuta’s eyelids trembled again.

This time, they slowly opened.

His vision refused to focus at first. Everything appeared distorted, dark shapes blending into one another while his mind struggled to understand where he was. His body felt impossibly heavy, and the position of his arms sent a dull ache through his shoulders as he hung from the restraints.

But before the prison came into focus, Yuuta saw something else.

A memory.

White hair.

Violet eyes filled with desperation.

A hand reaching toward him.

Erza...

For an instant, Yuuta was back inside Allen’s arms, watching Erza desperately racing toward him as the portal closed between them. He remembered reaching for her too. Their fingers had been so close that another fraction of a second might have been enough.

Then she had disappeared.

Yuuta suddenly gasped.

"Haa...!"

His head jerked upward as consciousness returned completely. He sucked in another breath, only to find the air inside the cell stale and unpleasantly thin. Each breath felt insufficient, forcing him to breathe harder while his eyes rapidly searched the darkness around him.

"Where... am I?"

His voice came out dry and weak.

The cell was almost completely dark. Whatever little light reached this section of the prison came from beyond the bars, leaving most of the interior buried beneath shadow. Strangely, however, after several seconds Yuuta found himself able to distinguish his surroundings far more clearly than he expected.

Stone walls.

A filthy floor.

Iron bars.

Nothing familiar.

Wait...

Yuuta looked toward the darkest corner of the cell.

How can I see that clearly?

He blinked several times, but the darkness remained strangely easy to distinguish.

"What happened to my eyes...?"

Yuuta tried moving his hand.

CLANK.

His wrist stopped instantly.

He looked upward and finally noticed the thick metal restraint locked around it. A heavy chain ran from the cuff toward the wall above him, holding his arm in place. When he instinctively tried his other hand, another metallic rattle answered him.

Both wrists were restrained.

"Seriously...?"

Yuuta shifted his legs next.

CLANK.

His expression immediately darkened.

Those were chained too.

"What the hell?"

He pulled harder, but his exhausted body barely responded. The chains rattled against the stone while the restraints dug painfully against his wrists, forcing him to stop before he wasted what little strength he had recovered.

"Where the hell am I?"

Panic started creeping into his thoughts, but Yuuta forced himself to stop struggling.

"No. Calm down."

He lowered his head and concentrated on breathing.

"First... figure out where I am."

The memories returned gradually.

Zeri.

Raven.

The Shadow Corps.

Elena.

His own body refusing to move while Elena fought in front of him.

Then came fragments he couldn’t properly explain, darkness, pain, something he could barely remember and finally the moment after he had awakened again.

The red-haired demon.

Yuuta’s eyes narrowed.

He remembered that demon standing over him. Red hair, horns, golden eyes... and then being carried away while he was too exhausted to resist.

"The demon..."

Yuuta looked around the cell again.

"Did they capture me?"

The answer seemed obvious now.

"Shit."

He immediately searched the darkness again, but this time he wasn’t looking for an exit.

"Elena...?"

Yuuta leaned as far as the restraints allowed, examining every corner of the cell. Nothing. He looked beyond the bars toward the neighboring section of the corridor, searching desperately for anything familiar.

No small figure.

No white hair.

No frightened crimson eyes.

"Elena?"

Still nothing.

Yuuta remained tense for several seconds before something unexpected happened.

Relief.

His shoulders loosened slightly.

She’s not here.

At least, he couldn’t see her anywhere nearby. It wasn’t proof that Elena was completely safe, but Yuuta remembered the final moments before he had been taken. The red-haired demon had carried him away.

Not Elena.

And the last time Yuuta had seen his daughter, she had still been back there.

Then she should be with them.

With Erza.

With Isvarn.

With the Agency.

Anyone was better than having her trapped inside this place beside him.

Yuuta closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself that single piece of relief before looking at the chains around his wrists again.

"Okay..."

His breathing gradually steadied.

"Elena’s not here. That’s good."

Now he had another problem.

Yuuta pulled once against the restraint, this time not desperately but carefully, testing how much movement the chain allowed. His exhausted muscles immediately protested, confirming that brute force wasn’t going to accomplish anything in his current condition.

His crimson eyes moved from the cuffs to the walls, then toward the bars and the dark corridor beyond them.

"I have to get out of here."

Yuuta pulled against the chains again, desperately trying to free his hands. But no matter how much he struggled, the heavy restraints refused to move. Instead, pain spread through his shoulders, forcing him to stop and catch his breath.

"Shit...!"

He lowered his head, breathing heavily.

What am I supposed to do now?

He had no idea where the demons had taken him, and even if he somehow managed to break free, he didn’t know what was waiting beyond the prison bars.

Yuuta looked around helplessly, searching for anything that might offer him a way out.

That was when something on the ground caught his attention.

His shadow.

Under normal circumstances, a human wouldn’t have been able to distinguish a shadow in such a dark place. Yet Yuuta could somehow see the outline of his own shadow clearly against the stone floor.

He stared at it, confused.

Wait...

Something was strange.

It wasn’t simply that he could see his shadow.

For a brief moment, he could have sworn it had moved.

Yuuta blinked, his crimson eyes fixed on the floor.

"...Huh?"

He hadn’t moved his body.

And the faint light entering the cell hadn’t changed either.

Yet something about the darkness beneath him seemed different.

Yuuta swallowed.

"...Did I just see my shadow move?"

________________________________

Location: Demonic Kingdom — Royal Meeting Hall

At the heart of the Demonic Castle stood the Royal Meeting Hall, one of the few chambers within the kingdom where the Demon King personally gathered his highest-ranking subordinates. Matters concerning invasions, territorial disputes, military operations, and decisions capable of affecting the entire Demonic Kingdom were discussed within these walls.

Today, the hall had been opened for an unusually important gathering.

The summons had been issued before the invasion even began. Upper Blood Demons who had spent years operating throughout different regions of the human world were ordered to abandon their activities and return to the Demonic Kingdom. Such gatherings were rare, especially when those summoned were responsible for maintaining demonic influence across entire countries.

Yet despite the importance of the occasion, the atmosphere inside the hall was strangely quiet.

Gold decorated the enormous chamber, reflecting the warm glow of chandeliers hanging from its towering ceiling. Rare fabrics covered portions of the walls, while precious stones had been embedded into the pillars and the long ceremonial table occupying the center of the room. Even the chairs surrounding it were crafted from materials that would have cost fortunes in the human world.

Anyone who believed demons lived like primitive monsters would have reconsidered that assumption upon entering this place.

The Demonic Kingdom possessed wealth, and an extraordinary amount of it.

But the luxury did little to make the chamber welcoming.

Armored demons guarded every entrance, while others stood silently along the walls, their weapons resting within easy reach. Security within the Royal Meeting Hall was among the strictest in the entire castle, although whether those guards could actually stop the individuals currently seated around the table was another matter entirely.

At the head of the table stood the largest chair.

It remained empty.

That seat belonged to the Demon King.

Three additional chairs had been positioned closest to his, each reserved for a High Demon. All three were currently unoccupied, although none of the gathered demons appeared particularly concerned about their absence.

Beyond them were six seats belonging to the Upper Blood Demons.

The first was occupied by Akuryu Zanki.

Dressed in a dark kimono, Zanki sat with his back perfectly straight, his katana resting beside his right hand. His long black hair framed a face covered with numerous eyes, each possessing an unsettling appearance that made it difficult to tell exactly where he was looking.

He had remained in that position since entering the hall.

Not once had he spoken.

Not once had he reached for the refreshments placed before him.

For someone who had spent years establishing demonic influence throughout Japan, the silence of a royal meeting seemed hardly worth acknowledging.

Beside him sat Xue Longulei, the second Upper Blood Demon.

Unlike Zanki, Longulei had been quietly examining a document placed on the table. A long spear rested against the side of his chair, its polished surface catching the golden light whenever he shifted.

After several moments, he lowered the document.

"Still no sign of His Majesty?"

His question was directed toward no one in particular.

Zanki offered no response.

Longulei glanced toward him before releasing a quiet breath.

"Naturally."

He returned his attention to the document.

The third seat belonged to the Jester Demon.

Despite his title, there was nothing particularly amusing about his behavior. He sat with his hands resting together, his attention drifting between the demons gathered around him. Occasionally, his gaze lingered on someone for several seconds longer than necessary, as though he were studying something only he could see.

When Longulei spoke, the Jester turned toward him.

But he said nothing.

A faint smile was his only response.

Longulei ignored him.

These three demons alone represented a considerable portion of the Demonic Kingdom’s influence throughout Asia, Russia, and Mongolia. Their operations had remained hidden from ordinary human society for years, allowing demonic forces to establish themselves in places where most humans never suspected their existence.

Yet even among such individuals, the fourth Upper Blood Demon was difficult to overlook.

Ragnar Graves occupied the largest chair at the table.

Standing nearly eight feet tall, Ragnar possessed an enormous physique covered in dense muscle. Tattoos resembling ancient Viking markings stretched across his arms and chest, while his broad shoulders made the already impressive chair appear almost inadequate.

He leaned backward, crossing his thick arms.

"How much longer are we supposed to wait?"

His deep voice carried across the hall.

Longulei didn’t bother looking up.

"Until His Majesty arrives."

"I know that."

"Then why ask?"

Ragnar’s expression darkened slightly.

"Because I’ve been sitting here long enough."

A faint chuckle came from the opposite side of the table.

"Patience, Lord Ragnar. Surely a man of your stature can endure a little waiting."

The speaker was the Salesman Demon, seated in the sixth and final Upper Blood chair.

Unlike Ragnar, he appeared perfectly comfortable. His posture was relaxed, and a pleasant smile rested on his face as though he were attending an ordinary business meeting rather than a gathering of some of the most dangerous beings in the Demonic Kingdom.

Ragnar turned toward him.

"You find something funny?"

"Not at all."

The Salesman Demon raised his hands slightly.

"I merely believe there are better ways to spend our time than complaining about something neither of us can change."

Ragnar stared at him for a moment.

"Tch."

He looked away.

The Salesman Demon’s smile remained unchanged.

His influence stretched across the Americas, where contracts and carefully arranged bargains had often proven more useful than open violence. Unlike demons who preferred conquering territories through force, he understood how easily human greed could be turned into a weapon.

It was an approach Ragnar had never particularly admired.

But whether he liked it or not, the Salesman Demon had earned his place at the table.

Five Upper Blood Demons were now present.

Only the fifth seat remained empty.

It belonged to Mae-hwa, the Korean Upper Blood Demon known as the Beauty Slaughter.

Longulei glanced toward the vacant chair.

"She’s late."

"Perhaps she’s enjoying herself," the Salesman Demon replied.

Ragnar snorted.

"Wouldn’t surprise me."

The Jester Demon tilted his head slightly, his faint smile widening.

Zanki remained silent.

For several more moments, the hall returned to its earlier quiet. The guards stood motionless, and the gathered demons continued waiting beneath the golden chandeliers.

Then, without warning, the enormous doors opened.

THUD.

The sound echoed throughout the chamber.

Several demons turned toward the entrance.

A woman stood beyond the doors, her long blonde hair falling gracefully over her shoulders. Her pink eyes swept across the gathered demons, and a beautifully decorated folding fan rested lightly between her fingers.

She wore an elegant expression, entirely unconcerned by the attention directed toward her.

Mae-hwa had finally arrived.