Dragon King: Throne of Demons and Gods

The faint smell of burnt flowers clung to the wind, and no one moved for a moment.

Airi broke the stillness. Her steps were sharp, and the scrape of her boot on stone made Crest flinch. She drew one of her swords, arm tense, the point leveled at Bel.

"You let her go," she said. The words didn't shake. But her hands did.

Crest shifted behind her, unsure.

"Airi, maybe don't—"

"Stay out of it, now!" she snapped without looking at him.

Her eyes were fixed on Bel, wide with something tangled between betrayal and disbelief.

"Say something. Say you had a reason to let her go."

Bel looked at the sword. He didn't seem bothered.

"That won't change anything," he said. "You can't hurt me with that."

His voice was steady. Not cold. Not cruel. Just flat, like a door that had already closed.

"You don't even care, do you?" she asked, louder now. "You're not with the Demon Lords. You're not with us. So what are you?"

Bel exhaled slowly, like someone tired of repeating himself.

"I told you before," he said. "I'm not on anyone's side. I do what I want."

He stepped closer. Just one step.

Airi didn't move, but her grip tightened. The sword trembled.

Bel raised his hand. The tip of his nail, sharp as a needle, touched her blade. With the lightest push, it tilted away from him.

"If you wanted her dead," he said, quieter now, "you should've done it while she was here."

He looked at her. Not with anger. Almost like disappointment.

"But from how often Morpheus could have killed you, I doubt you would've managed."

Airi froze. Her mouth opened, then closed again. Her shoulders rose like she was ready to shout, but nothing came.

Crest stepped in between them, this time, though, he looked less crushed.

"Stop," he said, louder than before.

She didn't lower her sword right away, but she looked at him. Her eyes searched his face like she wasn't sure who he was siding with.

Crest turned to Bel.

"I think I get it now," he said. "You don't owe us anything. You never did."

Airi frowned.

"You..."

"No," he said, glancing back at her. "Listen. He helps when it helps him. That's all. He helped with the dungeons, with the capital, because it benefited him."

He looked at Bel again.

"Sienna's one of yours now. If you'd saved Dusteria... she would've been yours too."

The words hurt him to say. It showed in how he swallowed after, jaw tight.

"I hate that," he said. "But I think I prefer it."

Airi stared at him like he'd lost his mind.

"At least he's real. Elysia would wear a mask and stab you in the back. Bel would tell you to your face and stab you in the chest."

Crest looked back at Bel.

"I prefer this kind of monster."

He let out a breath, and it sounded like something he'd been holding too long.

"And he doesn't go after humans. That's enough for me. Let him do what he wants. We'll handle the rest."

He paused, holding Bel's gaze.

"And if you were the one who took the throne... maybe that wouldn't be the worst thing."

Airi stepped back like she'd been pushed. Her swords hissed as she shoved them into their sheaths.

"What the hell are you saying?" she asked.

Bel looked at Crest.

"Then that's your wish."

He didn't say it with judgment, just acknowledgment like naming a fact.

Airi's voice cut back in, sharper now.

"It'll never happen. He won't lift a finger until everything burns. He's a vegetable! He'll move when humanity's already wiped out."

Bel turned to her.

"Why only humanity?"

Airi blinked.

"W-What?"

"What about elves? Dwarves? Beastkin? If they were the ones dying, would it matter less?"

Her face twisted.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then say what you meant. You want to be a heroine? Then remember who you're fighting for. All of them. Not just the ones who look like you."

She clenched her jaw to stop shaking, but it didn't help. The words stung more than they should have. She felt exposed, like he'd pulled something out of her she didn't know was there.

"You think you care more than I do? You think that makes you better?"

Bel looked at her for a long moment.

"No. You said it yourself. You're a heroine for your people. I'm about to do the opposite."

Crest went still.

Airi's hands slowly uncurled.

The meaning hung in the air, heavier now. The path Bel had chosen wasn't theory anymore. It had a name.

Mammon.

Airi stared at the horizon as if it might shift again, as if Elysia would walk back through the haze and undo everything that had just been said. But the street held only them now.

"So," Crest said gently, not quite meeting Bel's eyes, "you really plan to kill Mammon?"

Bel's gaze didn't shift.

"It's not want. It's will."

Airi let out a quiet scoff.

"You won't kill Elysia, but you'll kill two others? That's funny. Almost sounds like favoritism. What did they do, offend your pride? Steal your favorite seat?"

Bel didn't answer. He was already thinking past her words. The conversation with the Crimson Bloom lingered in his thoughts. One path would lead to his demise. The other to his death. Her words weren't metaphorical. They were precise.

A trap waiting for a misstep.

He couldn't be reckless. If Mammon had come here willingly, it wasn't to die. And with three Demon Lords gathered in the same city, this wasn't a challenge. It was a design.

"Something about this isn't right," Bel murmured. "If it were just him, I wouldn't be worried. But the presence of others means something's underneath."

Crest nodded slowly.

"You think it's a trap."

"I think I need to be cautious."

Airi crossed her arms, the blade on her back shifting with the motion.

"So you're backing off?"

"I'm choosing the other path first."

She raised a brow.

"The Slumbering King?"

"Yes."

Airi's laugh was dry and humorless.

"Of course. Why face the enemy when you can tiptoe around him first?"

Crest frowned, turning more fully toward her.

"Airi, come on."

But she had already turned, her jaw tight.

"If you're going after the Slumbering King, then I will go after Mammon."

The words hit took them both off guard. Bel actually paused. Crest blinked.

"You want to take Mammon?" Bel frowned, more confused than surprised.

"Yes," Airi said, facing them now. "I'm done waiting for your plan."

Crest stepped forward.

"You're not serious..."

"I am," she snapped. "Because I'm tired of counting on someone who doesn't care. You act like you're doing us a favor by breathing in the same space. You think because you're strong, you can sit still and everything will bend around you. But not all of us can afford to wait for the perfect move."

Bel's gaze didn't change; there was no need to argue or discuss. She was in her right.

Crest shifted uncomfortably, then turned to Bel.

"Can you... can you talk her out of it?"

Airi laughed, sharp and without humor.

"Really, Crest? Going to beg the Demon Lord to save me from myself?"

Bel didn't even blink.

"She's not mine to command. I have no orders to give her."

Crest flinched, and Airi's eyes widened just slightly, caught off guard by how simply he'd agreed to that.

"Why even ask? You're free to do what you want; I've never controlled you. In fact, you forced yourselves into my plans. I never asked you to follow me into the city. If she wants to go, then she can go."

Airi looked back at him, furious but satisfied.

"For once, we agree."

Crest stood between them like the eye of a storm, pulled in both directions, but unable to resist either. He looked at Bel, struggling for words.

"I hate this," he muttered. "But if I let her go alone..."

He didn't finish the thought. Airi was already walking, and after a moment, he followed.

"Then... I'll go with her."

Bel nodded once.

"It might be best."

He turned to leave.

"Wait," Bel said.

She stopped mid-step, her shoulders stiff, irritation turning into something more brittle.

"What?"

"My first encounter with Mammon," he said. "I had the upper hand. Then he did something I didn't see, and I almost died."

The street seemed still. The wind lost its rhythm, as if the world itself had paused to listen.

Crest flinched. The words hit too hard to ignore.

"You... almost died?"

Airi didn't move. Her body was still angled to leave, but her face had turned back, her eyes a little too wide. The anger drained from her voice before it could form.

She hadn't expected that. Not from him.

Bel didn't explain further. He couldn't. Whatever Mammon had done, even he couldn't say clearly what it was. It was so sudden.

Airi paused, her fingers curling at her side. She breathed in through her nose and set her jaw, her eyes steady and cold.

"Good. Then I won't get hit."

Bel didn't nod. His eyes lingered on Airi for a second longer.

"I wish for your survival," he said quietly. "I'm not giving you orders. Just... try not to give him more wins."

Airi looked at him, her mouth parting slightly, as if caught between lashing out and holding something back.

Whatever she saw in his expression held her still for just a moment, not warmth, not concern, but something strange and restrained. Maybe respect. Maybe regret.

Then she scoffed under her breath and turned away without answering.

Bel then looked past her, past Crest, to the city that waited with too many questions.

"One more thing."

He raised his hand.

The street darkened as purple light spread from under Bel's feet, glowing brighter by the second.

It lit up the cracks in the stone, forming three burning symbols in a ring around him. The lines pulsed, clean and sharp.

Then the fire came.

Violet flames rose like smoke turned solid, curling up in thick columns that twisted the air around them.

Airi stepped back, startled, her hand moving to her sword but stopping halfway. Crest flinched, wide-eyed, his fingers brushing his hilt without drawing it.

The ground shook softly.

From the fire, huge shapes moved forward. Slow and heavy. The first drake stepped out, its claws dragging deep grooves into the stone.

Their bodies were thick, their legs thick as tree trunks, and along their backs ran jagged black spines like broken blades. Their scales looked burnt and hammered.

Their heads lifted, one by one, and the eyes that met the air were wild and terrifying.

Airi held her breath. Crest didn't speak.

The fire slowly died down, but the street felt no safer.

"They will go with you," Bel said. "Just in case."