How to Make the Perfect Demon Lord

Earlier

The Commander vs Greg

Greg charged, spear first. With one flick of the Commander's wrist, he was swatted aside. Another strike followed—relentless, unyielding, never giving Greg a chance to breathe. Without Overhaul, his body simply couldn't keep up.

Each clash painted him redder, his own blood soaking through his clothes, dripping steadily from his lips.

Finally, a hammer strike smashed into his face, snapping his body backward. The impact hurled him across the battlefield, shattering the fence driving him outside. He lay broken and motionless, blood spreading into dark pools beneath him.

The Commander smirked. No doubt Greg was dead. The fight was his.

Greg's body didn't even flinch. His eyes remained shut, bruises glowed across his skin.

The underlings' mocking laughter echoed throughout the residence.

Suddenly, a tall shadow loomed over him. A familiar voice followed.

"You oversold this one!" she said—half wake-up call, half mockery. Her hands rested firmly on her waist, oversized muscles tensing with aura.It was the black girl who ealier quarreled with Greg about the boys.

For a few seconds, no reply came. The silence weighed heavy, but she stood firm, bent forward, intent unwavering.

Then—

His eyes twitched. Not much, but enough for an expert to notice.

"I know you can hear me!" she added, her tone coaxing him out of his self-imposed silence.

His eyes twitched again, wider this time, trying to take in the bigger picture.

"Go away, I'm sleeping," Greg muttered lowly, like a child shrugging off his parents on a Saturday morning.

"Wake up. You still haven't finished the mission," she pressed, trying to push him forward with words.

"Ahhh…" he groaned.

"Is everything in place?" he asked, still half-drowsy in tone.

"Yeah. Our inside source says the system is blind," she replied, her charismatic confidence clashing against his whining mood.

With a few nudges side to side, he finally pushed himself upright, sitting dramatically.

"Tell me, why does he get to glitch again?" Greg asked.

"It's none of our business.Thats what the contract says!" she snapped, forcefully pulling him up, even though his face said otherwise.

"Ahhh… Please don't, please… aaah!"

Jamie's screams echoed through the residence as the Vice Commander broke his arm.

Greg's eyes twitched. The sound pierced his heart—and the thought of who it came from cut deeper still. Regret weighed heavy.

"You sure I shouldn't help him?" he asked, glancing toward the source of the cries.

"The contract warned us about interfering," she replied coldly.

Her shut-down left Greg silent for a few seconds. Anger slowly filled his being, reflected in the dark shadow of his eyes.

Then—

He stepped forward three times, gave her shoulder a quick pat.

"Find me if you need anything," he said, pulling his hand back and walking away, both hands buried deep in his pockets.

"Where are you going?" she called after him.

"To find a place to sleep without distractions," he replied, raising his right arm dismissively.

She stood with hands on her waist, smirking to herself.

"You big softy…" she muttered.

---

NOW

Silence, nailed by curiosity, hung heavy over the discussion. They all suspected that something didn't add up in this world. Questions burned in their minds, yet none voiced them.

Alexander stepped forward, ready with one he had just gathered the courage to ask.

"So you haven't been telling us everything?"

"No," the girl replied without hesitation.

"Why?"

"Because they like it that way," she answered, this time emotionless.

Alexander wanted to ask more, but his instincts warned him. She was growing bored of his questioning—perhaps eager to rush off to that tea party she had bragged about earlier.

"Now let's start!" she proclaimed.

"The integrity of Midgard comes from creating the best heroes in history!" she began, her voice carrying like she was reading from an invisible speech.

"Hercules, Ramayana, Monkey King, Sigurd—"

"Some of the famous products of Midgard!" she continued.

"You've passed the first two games, both requiring teamwork. But as you proceed, you will face challenges designed to tear apart what you've built."

The group exchanged sorrowful glances. They had expected this moment might come, but denial had been easier than acceptance. The system's words confirmed their fears.

And yet, another merciless shock was about to drop.

"Unlike the first two games, from here on out, the time you spend finishing the remaining eight games will reflect in the old world!"

Gasps filled the air. The revelation was crushing—fearful, unexpected, not part of their calculations.

"Is she saying what I think?" Lora whispered to Charlotte.

"Yes. From now on, Midgard is not timeless."

"At what ratio does the time change?" Alexander asked.

The girl went quiet. One hand pressed to her ear, eyes focused as if listening to a silent voice. After a few nods, she raised her finger, commanding attention.

"One month here is one hour in the world of the living," she said cheerfully.

"One month?"

They all exclaimed.

"No way… we'll be here for that long?" Jamie muttered, overwhelmed. He had assumed it would be days, maybe weeks. Months had never crossed his mind.

Bray's eyes widened as the truth struck deep. If he stayed here too long, he would return to a world that had already declared him dead. Pronounced him gone.

A world where mourners gave speeches of gratitude at his funeral, though they had shown him none in life.

"They'll probably say I was a hero…" he thought bitterly. The memory of his death replayed—the boy drowning in the lake, his desperate attempt to save him, the rough waters pulling him under instead. He never even had the chance to ask how the boy had gotten there.

But above all, the thought of returning to find himself buried gnawed the deepest.

"Hmph."

Alexander's smirk broke the heavy silence.

"Forcing us to finish early, huh?" he said, pushing his glasses up with two fingers. "You're truly crazier than all of us."

The girl unbothered continued with her lecture.

"Now, with that out of the way!" the girl said brightly.

Snap!

A squeaking sound echoed behind her. Pixels sparked into existence, multicolored lights bursting outward. At their center, a massive door appeared, taller and grander than before. Its wooden flames bore intricate symbols carved deep into its surface.

With a smile, she gestured at it like a realtor showing off a house.

"Let's go, guys!" Greg said, stepping forward and entering first. The boys followed close behind.

Charlotte cracked her neck as she approached the threshold.

Emily lingered, frozen in thought, until Lora gently touched her shoulder.

"You okay?" Lora asked.

Emily flinched. "Yeah, I'm good."

"What are you waiting for?" Bray shouted from inside.

"Calm down, we're coming!" Charlotte replied casually, her hands hanging behind her neck.

Their conversation echoed, urging Lora and Emily to hurry. They rushed after Charlotte, matching her pace. In seconds, the three of them passed the little girl, ready to cross into the glowing doorway.

But—

Zap!

An electrical spark flared at the doorframe.

"Ow!" they yelped in pain.

Zap!

It flared again, longer this time.

"What's wrong?" Jamie asked, alarmed.

"It's not letting us in!" Lora shouted.

"No way. We just walked through—"

Zap!

The spark burst midair, forcing Bray back as he tried to exit.

"What's happening?" Charlotte demanded, glaring at the little girl.

"Oooh…" she drawled, a wicked grin spreading across her face.

"I forgot to mention something." She raised her finger, one long nail catching the light.

"Only humans with the Broken Shield can progress to the next stage." She added.With a swift motion, she cut a thin line across the melon on her hand.

Their eyes widened—anger, unease, confusion swirling all at once. None of it made sense.

Then—

A whistling sound.

A thread of light streaked across the girls' necks, so fast it demanded focus to even see.

"Wait… what's going on?" Jamie thought, panic rising in his chest. His instincts screamed—something terrible was about to happen.

Their heads tilted slowly to the side, sliding unnaturally across their necks. No blood, no pain—just stillness. The expression on their faces unchanged.

The definition of a painless death.

Phu… phu… phu…

Their heads fell in sequence.

Hearts raced. Fear choked them. None could believe what they had just witnessed.

The girls were dead.