Chapter 26: BECOME THE DEMON KING AGAIN

The Final Quest expanded across Vael’s vision until it covered the inn wall.

[FINAL PHASE UNLOCKED]

[MAIN QUEST]

[RETURN TO THE OBSIDIAN THRONE.]

A second line appeared.

[For final evaluation, Host must confront the life he abandoned at full capacity.]

Vael narrowed his eyes.

"What does that mean?"

[Temporary Restoration Protocol initiated.]

"No."

Warmth detonated through him.

Vael grabbed the edge of the table.

Thirteen biological years vanished in seconds.

Thirty-eight became twenty-five.

His shoulders broadened. His face sharpened. Every strand of gray disappeared from his hair. Old scars remained, but weakness did not. His lungs filled without effort. His heartbeat struck like a war drum.

Then his mana core opened another layer.

Black light crawled across the floorboards.

The inn windows rattled.

Morrigan fell to one knee.

Not theatrically this time.

Instinctively.

"My King."

Seraphina dropped her book.

Lyria stared.

Vael looked at his hands.

Young.

Strong.

Familiar.

Too familiar.

He had worn this body when he conquered Ragnor.

He had worn it when he signed Ashfield’s death order.

The System had not made him look young for vanity.

It had put him back inside the version of himself he trusted least.

Morrigan wiped tears from her eyes.

"My King, you look exactly like the day you executed Duke Malvern."

Vael paused.

"That was not where I expected that sentence to go."

Seraphina recovered her book.

"Twenty-five-year-old Vael. Living primary source. I need ink."

Lyria walked around him once.

"This is unfair."

"What?"

"I spent weeks adjusting to forty-five. Then forty. Then thirty-eight. Now this?"

Vael folded his arms.

"You preferred older?"

Lyria smiled dangerously.

"I preferred when your joints could be used against you."

The System displayed:

[Flirting detected.]

Vael ignored it.

Morrigan was already packing maps.

"Excellent. We leave before dawn. I shall summon the surviving generals, activate the old routes, restore—"

"No."

She froze.

"We travel normally."

"My King."

"No invasion columns. No banners. No scouts intimidating farmers. No abducting horses because they ’look strategically useful.’"

Morrigan slowly put down a black crown-shaped standard.

"What am I allowed to do?"

"Walk."

She looked devastated.

The journey to the Obsidian Crown took five days.

It should have taken seven.

Morrigan cheated by arranging replacement carriages at every town.

On the second day, they were stopped by fifty Royal Intelligence riders.

Director Halric himself waited in the road.

He was a thin man in his fifties with gray at his temples, an immaculate coat, and the exhausted expression of someone who had spent a month reading reports about eggs, picnics, cat ears, and possible regime change.

His eyes settled on Vael.

For a long moment neither spoke.

Halric finally said, "You’re shorter than the records."

Vael’s expression became murderous.

Seraphina covered her mouth.

"I am one hundred eighty-eight centimeters."

"The Third Royal Chronicle says one ninety."

"That book is garbage."

Halric looked at Seraphina.

She nodded solemnly.

"On this point, unfortunately, he is correct."

Halric took a breath.

"Are you going to restart the Demon Kingdom?"

"I don’t know."

Every soldier behind Halric tensed.

Lyria glanced at Vael.

It was the honest answer.

Halric noticed too.

"That is not reassuring."

"I am not trying to reassure you."

"Then what are you trying to do?"

Vael looked toward the black mountains on the horizon.

"Find out why I still care whether I could."

Halric studied him.

Then stepped aside.

His deputy whispered, "Director?"

Halric did not take his eyes off Vael.

"If he wanted a war, fifty riders would not stop him."

"That isn’t comforting either, sir."

"No."

Vael walked past.

Halric called after him.

"Demon King."

Vael stopped.

"If you come back with an army, I will oppose you."

Vael nodded.

"That is your job."

"And if you come back without one?"

Vael considered it.

"Recommend a good carpenter."

Halric blinked.

"For what?"

"An inn."

Lyria laughed.

Halric looked at Seraphina.

"Is he serious?"

She sighed.

"Disturbingly."

They continued toward the mountains.

That night, Vael slept poorly.

The System offered no quest.

He dreamed of a throne.

For the first time, he did not know whether the dream was a nightmare.