Chapter 10: THE DEMON KING LAUGHS

The final event of Elmsford’s autumn festival was a historical play.

Vael immediately regretted attending.

The title was THE FALL OF THE BLACK DEMON KING.

Lyria bought two tickets before he could object.

"This will be educational," she said.

"It will be slander."

"You haven’t seen it."

"I have seen history."

They sat among a cheerful crowd.

The curtain rose.

A man wearing black armor entered the stage.

He had enormous fake horns.

Vael’s expression became murderous.

Lyria whispered, "You really hate horns."

"I never had horns."

She turned toward him.

Vael stared forward.

"In the books," he added.

The actor playing the Demon King threw his head back.

"FOOLISH HUMANS! I SHALL EAT YOUR BABIES AND BATHE IN BLOOD!"

Vael stood.

"I NEVER SAID THAT."

The entire audience turned.

Lyria dragged him back down.

"Sit."

"This is propaganda."

"It’s theater."

"I did not bathe in blood."

"Good to know."

"I had proper baths."

Lyria covered her face.

The play became worse.

The Demon King lost a duel because he slipped on a banana peel.

Vael gripped the armrest.

The Hero Arthas delivered a twelve-minute speech about friendship.

The real Arthas had sworn constantly and once headbutted Vael during negotiations.

"This is character assassination," Vael whispered.

"Which character?"

"Both."

Then came the final battle.

The fake Demon King summoned a rubber dragon.

The stage rope snapped.

The dragon fell directly onto the actor playing Arthas.

There was a muffled scream from beneath the fabric.

The actor playing Vael panicked, tripped backward, and crashed into a painted castle.

The entire set collapsed.

For three seconds the audience was silent.

Vael stared.

A fake tower rolled across the stage.

The Demon King’s horn fell off.

The Hero crawled from under the dragon and shouted, "This wasn’t in rehearsal!"

Lyria snorted.

Vael tried not to react.

Then the fake Demon King stepped on the banana peel again.

He flew sideways into the orchestra.

Vael laughed.

It escaped before he could stop it.

One sharp sound.

Then another.

He covered his mouth.

Lyria stared at him.

Vael laughed harder.

Not politely.

Not bitterly.

Not the cold amusement of watching an enemy make a fatal mistake.

He laughed until his chest hurt.

Lyria began laughing too.

Soon neither of them could look at the stage without starting again.

The System appeared quietly.

No hearts.

No obnoxious fanfare.

[Hidden Milestone Completed: Genuine Joy]

[Reward: Biological Age -10 Years]

Warmth surged through Vael.

His body changed beneath his clothes.

Muscle returned to his shoulders. His hair darkened from gray to deep charcoal. Fine wrinkles vanished. His face sharpened into something much closer to the man he had been decades ago.

His biological age settled around forty-five.

More importantly, something inside his chest ignited.

His magic core.

A single pulse of demonic mana expanded through the theater.

Every candle flame turned black.

The audience gasped.

Vael immediately suppressed it.

Lyria stopped laughing.

She stared at him.

"You changed."

Vael touched his face.

"...Lighting."

"Your hair changed color."

"Very unusual lighting."

"You look ten years younger."

"Good diet."

"You ate fried dough for lunch."

Vael stood.

"We should leave."

Outside the theater, Lyria caught his sleeve.

"Vale."

He stopped.

Her expression was no longer playful.

"I don’t know what’s happening to you."

Vael said nothing.

"But you saved me. You helped that merchant. And today..." She smiled faintly. "You looked happy."

Happy.

Vael had not thought of himself using that word in a very long time.

The System displayed one final message.

[Magic Core Recovery: 12%]

Far away, beyond mountains and ruined fortresses, something ancient opened its eyes.

In a dark castle abandoned for half a century, a woman with crimson horns dropped a wine glass.

Black mana trembled through the stones.

She whispered one word.

"My King."

In the capital of Asteria, a crystal in the Royal Intelligence Bureau cracked from top to bottom.

Director Halric stared at the black pulse recorded inside it.

His deputy whispered, "Sir... that signature matches archival records."

Halric did not look away.

"Which records?"

The deputy swallowed.

"The Demon King."

Halric closed his eyes.

Then he sighed the sigh of a man whose paperwork had just become historical.

"Of course it does."