SPELLCRAFT: Reincarnation Of A Magic Scholar

I was initially on the lookout for someone, but I ended up simply watching the landscape—how it changed due to the effects of war.

The conflicting crowd was so lively that they took my attention in no time.

There was no joy to be found in war, but extermination had a certain feel to it. It was difficult to resist enjoying it when you were the one on the winning side.

As I watched the Demons get utterly squashed, a feeling of satisfaction permeated my heart.

'I shouldn't like this, but...'

If I had to dirty my hands, the best way to do it would be to at least take pride in it. It would be incredibly heavy on any person if they couldn't at least enjoy whatever task they undertook.

I was no different.

As I watched the battle, a blade was launched at me from below.

It came from a bloodlusted individual who had been glaring at me for some time.

Using Spellcraft in combination with Sensory Magic, I was well aware of my surroundings. His attack couldn't catch me by surprise.

'I wanted to ignore you if you stayed put, but...'

Fortunately, Gawain was by my side, so it simply took care of the strike for me.

"Master, it seems the Demon King is after your head."

Hearing the noble sound of my Automaton always brought me joy—even though he was literally stating that someone was after my life.

It was at that moment that my eyes caught the person I was searching for.

As expected, he was on the run.

At that moment, I lost interest in whatever else and decided to give chase—if it could be called that.

"You handle him, Gawain. I've found what I'm looking for."

In a flash, I teleported away from the place and moved for my target.

Perhaps if I wasn't so pressed for time, I would have fought with the Demon King a bit. But, I found the whole thing pointless.

After all, I wasn't meant to be his rightful opponent.

'I wonder...'

With a smirk, I made my appearance as space distorted.

With me right in front of the escaping target, he could do nothing but halt in both shock and desperation.

That only served to make things more interesting for me.

"It's been a while... Kyron."

********************

[Moments Earlier]

'I have to get away! I have to get away!'

A certain Shadow Demon was fleeing for his dear life.

If it was a simple soldier, one might have dismissed his fear and understood the cause of his retreat.

However, this wasn't a simple Shadow Demon. He wasn't even a Captain or General.

The fleeing black being was a Demon Lord!

The dark clouds of Miasma at the rear provided Kyron enough cover to slither through the ground like the shadow he was.

Using his semi-tangible form to deflect any attention that came his way, he sped across the battlefield with haste.

'We can't win! It's over! I have to flee!'

Kyron could not understand why Abellion had chosen not to retreat—not that there was any avenue for that in the first place.

In his opinion, it wasn't cowardly to run. Kyron would do whatever it took to win—to survive!

That was what he stood for.

'This wasn't how it was meant to go! Shit! Shit! Shiiittt!!!'

His ambitions. His grand goal of ruling as an absolute dictator. Everything was going down the drain.

For his plan, he intended the Demon Conquest to go according to Abellion's wishes.

Once they conquered everything, it would only be fair that each Demon Lord would be awarded their respective territories.

With his own patch of land assured, Kyron intended to raise an army—using what he had learned from rearing Demon Beasts, as well as his sly intelligence—building enough power to take over the other regions.

Slowly, but certainly, he would finally attain absolute power and become the Demon King.

He knew it was possible, which was why he made sure he dedicated every waking moment to this cause.

But...

"Why did this have to happen? Damn it!"

Everything had gone down the drain.

The Demons were going to be killed here, no doubt.

If Kyron stayed, he would encounter the same fate. That much was obvious. That was why he ran with all his strength.

The only thing keeping him going was the tiny glimmer of hope that still failed to leave him. His darkened mind clung to the inextinguishable desire within him, and Kyron's head began generating scenarios where his grand ambition could still be plausible.

'I have to live! They can't follow us to the Demon Continent. The Miasma there is... yes... they won't be able to stand it!'

If he hurried, he could survive and build his strength.

He could formulate a lie that Abellion left the future of the Demon Race in his care.

No one would suspect a thing since the Demon King would most likely die in the conflict.

'The problem is Desgarion. There's no way he'll let that fly!'

Whether he liked it or not, Kyron knew Desgarion was much stronger than he was. In a direct conflict, he would lose badly against the Crimson Demon Lord.

In fact, which Demon Lord wouldn't?

'I can always handle it by drugging him with that special formula... yes. The one Legris sold to me in exchange for an extra portion of Miasma...'

That was how he had been able to insure his victory against Kahn—his previous subordinate.

In a fair match, it was doubtful if he would win.

What most people didn't understand was that a fight didn't have to be fair for a victor to be decided.

'If I eliminate Desgarion, I'll be the most powerful Demon around. I'll rebuild the Demon Realm. We'll become much stronger than before, and then one day...'

The other Races may have gotten a temporary victory at the moment, but Kyron didn't intend on letting that last forever.

'... I'll lead the Demon Race and take over the world!'

That was Kyron's grand dream—his everything.