Chapter 893 - 892: No Reason To Lie

Tarvak pushed the door open and entered with three guards behind him.

The room felt smaller once they were inside. Two took positions beside the doorway, while the third moved far enough to keep Simon’s sword in view. All three were Two-Horned Demons with Minor Forged Hearts.

Minor Greater Demons.

Tarvak’s Prime Forged Heart was stronger than theirs. His gaze moved over Simon’s bloodstained clothes, then settled on the hand resting beside the Chaos Blade.

"It’s been a while," Simon said calmly.

Tarvak did not return the greeting.

"What happened? Why are you here instead of with the invasion force?"

Simon looked at the three guards. One still had his hand on his weapon. Another examined the dried blood beneath Simon’s nose as though trying to decide whether he could stand.

"Close the door."

Tarvak hesitated, then nodded to the guard behind him.

The latch clicked.

"We took Ironcrest Watchtower ," Simon began. "My assault core completed its assignment before the others. The tower was ours."

Tarvak listened with his arms at his sides.

"Akaza was injured. We should have been holding the position and recovering, but Marek ordered us to support Ammor’s core and take Frostveil Watchtower."

Simon adjusted his fingers against his knee. Beneath the wraps, a repaired tendon pulled tight.

"I told him about Akaza’s condition. I asked who would protect Ironcrest. He reminded me of our oath and made it clear that refusing was not an option."

Tarvak’s brows drew together. The guard watching the sword shifted his attention toward Simon’s face.

"We reached Ammor. Most of his core was already dead or badly injured. Then two humans arrived. Twins. Elara and Darius."

A thin current of demonic energy passed through Simon’s shoulder. He guided it around a tender section instead of forcing it through.

Unholy Regeneration had not stopped working once.

"I assigned Sonya and Akaza to Elara, with Virella and Rellis supporting them. I took Darius away from the others."

He spoke evenly. No anger entered his voice when he mentioned the order or the injuries. That seemed to make Tarvak listen more closely.

"Darius had a fire phoenix. He also became stronger as his anger and excitement increased. The more he enjoyed the fight, the more dangerous he became."

The guard beside the door slowly released his hand from his weapon’s hilt.

"He was still not strong enough. I put my sword through his heart, destroyed his spear, and cut off his head."

Tarvak’s mouth tightened.

"The spear’s name was Solace. He called it a divine weapon."

One of the guards turned toward his commander with a baffled and strange expression.

Simon continued before either spoke.

"After Darius died, I checked the others. Rellis was dead. So were Ammor’s Runemasters and the remaining members of his core. Sonya was inside a shell of earth, advancing. Akaza, Virella, and Ammor were inside another."

His gaze lowered briefly toward the floor.

"I intended to reach them. Then a god descended into Darius’s corpse."

The room went still.

"The God of War."

Tarvak’s eyes widened. Behind him, a guard’s lips parted, but he made no sound.

Simon watched them absorb it while the damaged muscle beneath his right shoulder slowly joined.

"The body restored itself. He questioned me, took an interest in my weapons, and decided they should belong to him. When I refused, he nearly cut me in half."

His torn clothing left little room to dismiss that part.

"He tried to take the sword anyway, but he lost a forearm."

Tarvak glanced at the black blade.

This time, the guard nearest it moved away.

"I recovered enough to escape, but he caught me at the rift and dragged me back. I had to use a sword technique that damaged my body to injure his vessel and open another route."

Simon flexed two fingers. They moved without the spasm that had accompanied them earlier.

"That time, I crossed."

Nobody interrupted.

"Marek and his vice commanders were waiting on this side. Instead of helping, they told me I should have died on Earth. Marek intended to send me back."

Tarvak’s expression had become difficult to read.

"Then the White Crown arrived with his Seven Seats. He offered protection in exchange for an eternal oath. Mine, and every generation descended from me."

Simon’s lips curved faintly.

"I refused. The God of War crossed before the prince could convince me."

The guard by the door swallowed.

"Varen tried to reason with him. He mentioned the realm’s suppression, Darius’s body, and the number of Demon Lords present."

A quiet breath escaped Tarvak.

"The god killed all seven Seats with one attack."

The guard nearest the wall took a step backward and struck it with his shoulder.

"Varen survived through an artifact. The weapons of the God of War continued into the army below. I teleported away before they could kill me."

Simon looked directly at Tarvak.

"Yes. Teleported. I possess a spatial affinity."

The commander’s attention sharpened, but Simon was not finished.

"He found me again. A being calling himself Lord Enigma intervened before the god killed me."

Even Tarvak’s breathing changed.

"They began fighting. I spent most of it trying not to be buried beneath the mountains they destroyed. When my body could endure the journey, and the space around me settled enough, I teleported here."

Simon let his hand rest on his knee.

"Now I’m healing."

For several breaths, the only sound came from the corridor beyond the door.

Tarvak studied the seated demon.

The account was outrageous. Yet the injuries were real, the reports of his sudden appearance agreed with the teleportation, and Simon had supplied names and events that could be checked.

What troubled him was how willingly he had supplied them.

"Why are you telling me all this?"

Simon raised a brow.

"You asked."

"You know what I mean."

Tarvak’s gaze moved toward the closed door.

"Usually, I have to separate what you say from what you want me to believe. You avoid questions. Mix truth with whatever answer serves you. Now you explain all of this without making me ask twice?"

Simon regarded him quietly.

Beneath the wrappings, the last damaged section he had been tending held against a slightly stronger current of demonic energy.

It was not fully healed, but it was enough for this.

He nodded.

"You’re right."

Tarvak waited.

"There’s no point lying to a dead man."

The commander stared.

"What do you mean?"

Simon lifted two fingers and swept them sideways.

Three narrow wind blades flashed past Tarvak.

They struck beneath the guards’ jaws before any of them could raise a defence. Armour collars split. Deep wounds opened across all three necks, and blood struck the door and wall behind them.

Splash!

The nearest guard remained standing for an instant, his hand still moving toward his weapon. Then his knees folded.

Another pressed both palms against his throat. Blood escaped between them as he stumbled into the third guard, and both fell.

Tarvak turned.

One body struck his boot.

The demon beneath it looked up at him, trying to speak through a mouth filling with blood. Beside him, another guard’s heel scraped weakly against the floor.

Their struggles faded.

Then stopped.

All three lay still. Their hearts had been spared by the blades, but none drew another breath.

"BLACKMOON!"

Tarvak’s demonic energy surged. Shock gave way to fury as he faced Simon again.

"What the fuck are you doing?!"

Simon remained seated.

"You’ve finished asking questions," he said indifferently. "Now you can be useful."

Tarvak reached for his weapon.

Two more wind blades crossed the room.

One cut through his right arm above the elbow. The other passed through his left at nearly the same height, slicing apart the reinforcement gathering beneath his armour.

Puchi!

Both arms fell.

Tarvak’s roar broke into a scream. He staggered backward, struck the door, then collapsed beside his guards.

Simon exhaled through a brief stab of pain in his shoulder. He had used only the movement and power required. Even so, the newly repaired flesh protested.

Tarvak tried to rise without hands. Blood spread beneath him.

A flow of demonic energy tightened around the severed ends of his arms, slowing the loss. He looked up at Simon, the anger in his eyes giving way to something far less certain.

Fear.

Simon studied his two horns.

A Prime Greater Demon. Stronger than the minimum Lilith had required.

He glanced at the three bodies, then returned his attention to their commander.

"I needed a living vessel to absorb the impurities from my bloodline."

His voice remained calm.

"You’ll do."