Choosing Submission

The chief's eyes lit up. “Labor? Lord Leopold, do you mean...”

“But those are thirty demons!”

“Yeah, that's a village-destroying force!”

“Turning them into labor? I can't believe he even thought of that...”

“It's hard to say, but I think he can do it.”

Standing at the village entrance, the chief shielded his eyes with his hand and peered toward the eastern forest, ignoring the chatter of the villagers behind him.

Perhaps a new era was about to begin.

Deep in the forest, thirty demon soldiers marched in a grand procession. They were well-equipped, and their weapons shimmered with magical light.

Leading them was an officer clad in half-plate armor, a one-handed sword with dark red patterns hanging from his waist.

“Devon, the fact that they could wipe out our scout patrol means the main human force must be just ahead,” the lieutenant said, riding his horse close behind Devon.

“According to our intelligence, only one person in these villages can use a Martial Skill. Since they were able to wipe out the scout patrol, that human must be hiding in the village ahead.” Devon did not underestimate his enemy. He narrowed his eyes, carefully scanning his surroundings as his gaze slowly swept across the edge of the forest.

Suddenly, he reined in his mount and raised his right hand. Behind him, the thirty demon soldiers halted in perfect unison.

“Who's there? Show yourself! Stop hiding in the bushes!”

Leopold didn't move, but beside him, Oliver was so terrified that he squatted on the ground, clutching his head tightly.

Leopold glanced at Oliver, who was curled up on the ground holding his head, sighed softly, and then stood up from behind the bushes.

“Hello. I just heard the person next to you call you Devon, right?” Leopold asked as he walked into the middle of the path.

Devon narrowed his eyes, his gaze quickly sweeping over Leopold. A human, wearing ordinary clothes, with no weapons, no armor, and not even a decent piece of protective gear.

But something was wrong. Devon suddenly detected a trace of incomprehensible power within those golden eyes.

“You guessed right. I did indeed run into your scout patrol.”

Devon held his reins, looking down at him from atop his horse. “...Did you kill them?”

“Not exactly,” Leopold said. “They're doing quite well right now.”

“Liar! The noble Demon Race would never surrender to humans!” one of the soldiers shouted, drawing his sword.

“Commander Devon, let me slaughter this brat!” The soldier strode toward Leopold.

“Stop! Don't do anything foolish!” Devon's gaze remained locked on Leopold. The soldier who had drawn his sword froze in place, caught in a dilemma.

“...Who on earth are you?” Devon finally spoke, his voice dropping a pitch. “An ordinary human wouldn't be this calm when facing thirty demon soldiers.”

“I'm indeed no ordinary human,” Leopold admitted frankly. “But you don't need to be nervous. I didn't come here to fight today.”

“Then what are you here for?”

“To negotiate,” Leopold said.

Devon fell silent for a few seconds before letting out a short laugh. “Negotiate? You, alone? Standing before my army, telling me you want to negotiate?”

“If one person isn't enough—” Leopold tilted his head, glancing toward the forest. “Actually, I brought backup.”

The moment his voice fell, Blake darted out from the edge of the forest, and countless frost flowers instantly exploded in the midst of the demon army.

Devon's pupils contracted sharply. Before he could even issue an order, three demon soldiers had their legs frozen solid. They stumbled and fell to the ground, their weapons flying from their hands.

Almost simultaneously, the remaining soldiers drew their weapons. Someone slashed toward where the icy mist was erupting, but only shattered a cloud of dispersing frost.

Blake stood on a branch of a nearby tree with his arms crossed, looking down at the chaotic formation below.

“Yo, not a bad reaction. Just a bit too slow.”

Devon pulled tight on his reins as his mount shifted uneasily. He looked up at Blake standing on the branch, then down at Leopold, who still maintained a calm expression.

“...You are not human,” Devon finally said, the condescending tone in his voice mostly gone.

“Figured it out?” Leopold smiled. He took a step forward and extended his right hand.

“You now have only two choices. Death, or submission!”

Devon was stunned for a moment, then burst into laughter. “Hahaha! I have thirty soldiers, and there are only two of you! Even if you can fight ten of us each, we still have ten soldiers left!”

“Oh, so you're that naive?” Leopold chuckled helplessly, his gaze suddenly becoming incredibly sharp.

Whoosh!

A shadow spear shot out from beneath him, instantly piercing the skull of a demon soldier. Blood splattered everywhere, before Devon could even react.

“Th-this is...!” Devon touched the blood of his comrade on his face in disbelief, staring at Leopold in sheer terror.

“If you insist on believing you still have the upper hand in numbers, well, we actually aren't just two people either!”

The moment Leopold finished speaking, a soft rustle of footsteps echoed from the shadows on the other side of the forest.

Isabella stepped out from the shadows of the trees. She carried no weapon, but the moment she appeared, Devon's mount snorted loudly, its hooves shifting back half a step in unease.

The warhorse—a demon-blood warhorse that had been rigorously trained and had accompanied Devon in battles for years—actually did not dare to look directly at Isabella the moment she walked out of the forest.

“...Who on earth are you?”

“Like I said: death, or submission!” Leopold raised his head, his golden slit pupils shining even brighter in the shadows of the forest. An endless, suffocating pressure washed over Devon, making it hard for him to breathe.

Devon opened his mouth, but the words caught in his throat. He couldn't help but tighten his grip on the reins as his horse continued to snort anxiously.

“You have ten seconds to consider,” Leopold said. His voice wasn't loud, but it was clear enough to reach the ears of every demon soldier. “After ten seconds, my patience runs out.”

“One.”

The demon soldiers behind Devon began to stir. Some gripped their hilts tighter, while others instinctively took half a step back.

“Two.”

Devon's gaze swept from Leopold to Blake up in the tree, whose hands were already starting to condense countless icicles.

“...Three.”

“Wait!” Devon called out hastily, his voice incredibly dry. “You... you want us to submit to you, and then what? What do you want us to do?”

“Four,” Leopold continued without pausing. “...Five.”

Damn it! Devon knew the other party was a master at playing with people's minds. But their strength was unfathomable; attacking blindly was not a good option.

“Six.”

Devon's fingers turned white from gripping the reins so tightly. Behind him, his lieutenant had already placed a hand on his sword hilt, his eyes darting back and forth between Devon and Leopold.

“Seven.”

“Commander Devon!” the lieutenant whispered. “We can't wait any longer—”

“Eight.”

Devon finally spoke, his voice hoarse. “Wait... If I submit, can you guarantee my soldiers will live?”

“Nine!” Leopold's gaze was ice-cold. There wasn't a single change in his expression as the chilling countdown continued.

“Ten—!”

“We submit!” Devon finally threw himself off his horse and knelt on one knee. He was so panicked that his sword clattered to the ground. Behind him, the thirty demon soldiers fell into a deathly silence.

Fear, unease, and despair—this was exactly what Devon read from that icy face. At the final moment of the countdown, a bone-deep shudder pierced his mind, and his body's instincts made the choice for him!

The lieutenant stood behind him, his hand still on his sword hilt. He stared at Devon's back for two seconds before slowly releasing his grip and kneeling down as well.

Then came the second, the third, the fourth—like falling dominoes, the thirty demon soldiers knelt on one knee one after another, placing their weapons on the ground.

Leopold stood in place, only slowly lowering his raised hand after the last demon had knelt.

“...Very well.”

He walked over to Devon and looked down at him, the cold light in his eyes undiminished.

“You should be glad you made a wise choice.”