Imp to Demon King: A Journey of Conquest

The air trembled as Mab's magic hummed. Golden strands glinted and swirled in the dark energy as her voice thundered.

"Turned undead against your will, you suffered for three thousand years. Firm of heart and spirit, you endured valiantly for a chance at redemption."

Her palm met an invisible resistance as though the world itself opposed her actions. The air became thick, almost suffocating. The musty scent of the dead and dust swirled to obscure her figure in Adam's trembling eyes.

But she continued, her voice not wavering in the slightest.

"Today, I free you from your past torments and mistakes in the name of Adam. Walk! Walk the realms as an elf once again, little soul, and show Mab's fickle moments of benevolence to its inhabitants."

With her words, her palms shattered the world's resistance. The air cracked and wailed as they spun upwards. Decay and rot stirred, then disintegrated into particles before Adam's stunned eyes.

A bewildered yelp and the thud of someone collapsing to the ground followed before loud cries pierced through the ceiling. Hearing relief and delighted surprise in them, he sighed and nodded at Mab.

Meanwhile, the fairy queen blew the remnants of mana wafting through her palm playfully. Then, she planted her fists on her hips and winked.

"You owe me a living throne. The wood from Yggdrasil should support my back well." Her eyes narrowed into slits. "Or you can raise an army to obliterate that traitorous and petty Oberon and give me my fairy forest back. Here are the intentions you wanted to uncover, my dear Adam."

Adam's eyes rolled at the ludicrous demand before he scratched his cheeks.

'Why does it feel like most gods are on bad terms with their children? Mab resents Oberon for his betrayal, while Tiamat's killed her. Zeus murdered his father, too.' He shook his head. 'Doesn't matter since I'll conquer all the realms for Tiamat anyway, so her demands won't make me stray from my goal.'

Mab nodded at his thoughts and snapped her fingers.

Before his rising lips, a golden chest appeared behind her throne—a well-deserved reward for conquering the crypt and its dangers.

Then, his eyes widened as she grew smaller with each passing second. By the time she was done, she could fit in his pocket.

Her wings fluttered as she drew closer and sat on his pauldron.

"We can't make your little friends wait any longer, right? Let's leave."

Dazed but agreeing about not worrying Karna, he locked the heavy chest under his arm and climbed the staircase.

Upon emerging, he smiled at Sylvie's rosy lips and supple skin. Gone was her spectral frame and back was her seventeen-year-old body. Yet, her hair and eyes remained silver—an indelible mark left by her life as a banshee.

As he observed her hug her ample chest and shudder, she leapt to her feet. Her long ears trembled, and her tears flew as she lunged at his chest and cried her heart out.

"Thank you! Thank you for doing much more than what I requested. You're my savior, my hero." She buried her face in his chest. "The emotions of the dead. I can't feel them anymore! I'm free from their regrets!"

He dropped the chest, pulled her back to gaze into her sparkling eyes, and patted her head.

"Live your life how you want. My territory welcomes you, but if you want to travel the realm after years of imprisonment, I'll understand your choice."

A tender sigh escaped his lips. It wasn't because she attracted him, or because his pants tightened by the second, of course. Instead, he felt a sense of accomplishment in a realm where he felt no guilt when he took other people's lives.

His moral compass held true despite the last war. Though John and his three hundred underlings had perished by his judgment, he had spared many more.

And now that he had set a precedent with humans, he wouldn't need to convince them anymore. Instead, happy citizens would do it for him without his asking. That's what he meant by maximising their satisfaction and why he opposed the other lords' methods.

He clicked his tongue and snorted.

If they brought better results than his, he would have gritted his teeth and accepted it reluctantly. But in reality? They were shallow, amateurish solutions that would yield minimal benefits with maximum problems. No! Once again, political strife and daily troubles didn't interest him. Not because he couldn't cope with them but because they would waste his valuable time.

A grin split his face as he picked up the chest and walked towards the exit.

'I'll set everything the best I can and let trustworthy individuals manage them. My end goal? It never changed: to become the number one.'

As he retraced his steps through the crypt, Sylvie told him about the elves in the south. He nodded when she shared her desire to visit them and promised her food for her trip. After all, she could slide a few good words about his territory and perhaps become a bridge between them.

Though she could also become an enemy, he shrugged off the concern, and his eyes sparkled as the fresh scent of the forest washed the decay lingering in his nostrils.

The evening sun's rays kissed his skin the second he left the crypt, their gentleness making him smile.

'She won't have enough time to develop even if she turns hostile. No matter what she chooses, the elves in the south will only have the same two choices I offered the surrounding lords: submit or die.'

However, Mab chuckled on his shoulder, and his pupils constricted the next second.

Before him stood Wukong, holding his Ruyi Jingu Bang; Achilles, ready to charge on his chariot behind his two divine horses; Muramasa, his forging hammer resting on his shoulder; and Ozymandias, arms crossed over his broad chest and eyes sparkling with the golden color of sand. Finally, Karna stood behind them, his Vijaya bow drawn to his cheek.