How to Make the Perfect Demon Lord

The trio stood firmly, tension high, weapons in hand, eyes locked on Caster. This was their chance—a simple way to get the relic. Their opponent stood still, unmoving, the cross dangling from the bangle on his arm catching the light, a detail that stood out against his attire.

They leaned close, whispering in each other's ears—strategies, plans, desperate ideas on how to bring him down. But it was easier said than done. The man was a mystery, and the only thing clear about him was this: he was strong enough to oversee Midgard itself. Strong enough to be respected by the very creators of Midworld.

"Let's see what your made of,"Jamie thought. If he wanted to become the strongest, he needed to witness the strongest in action.

"Wait too long," Caster mocked, his voice sharp, "and you'll lose your edge."

"That crap won't work on us," Bray shot back, more to convince himself than anyone else.

"What crap?"

"Your mind games!" Bray continued.

Alexander muttered as he laid out the plan he'd prepared for this exact scenario.

"We don't know his power level. Not even his skills."

"In that case… two rounds. First, test him. Second, finish him."

The others nodded. It was solid. At least, on paper.

"Don't hold back," Caster goaded, his smirk unshaken.

"We won't!" Bray snapped.

"It'd be smart to use that other golden point," Caster advised mockingly.

Bray scoffed, shrugging it off as the trio spread out—careful, calculated.

"We don't need two skills to beat you," Jamie murmured under his breath.

Caster smirked wider. "Even Jamie's trash talking now. This should be fun."

The three surrounded him—Bray and Jamie on the flanks, Alexander holding the center. The empty arena stood witness, waiting for violence.

Suddenly—

Bray lunged. Jamie followed.

Bray's blade struck first, chain tied around his arm for defense—a trick improvised on the spot.

Pow!

Caster's hand moved in a blur. He parried the strike before it even landed. Bray's eyes widened—he could feel it. Caster wasn't even going all out.

Caster lifted his palm toward Bray's face, fingers spread. In that moment, Bray's confidence shattered. Every skill he thought he had meant nothing. His head moved closer and closer to that waiting grip—

Ching!

The chain snapped taut, saving him at the last moment. He'd planted the other end into the floor earlier as a backup. It held—barely—and bought him a breath.

From the right, Jamie came charging in, eyes sharp as a hawk's, kali sticks clutched tight. He swung with all the force he could muster, hoping to capitalize on Bray's distraction.

"You idiot," Caster sneered. "You think sticks can hurt me?"

Jamie leapt high, bounding away with ease, like prey mocking its predator. His eyes tracked Jamie mid-air, curiosity flickering.

What's he planning?

But then—his senses flared.

Another attack.

Alexander came from the middle, twin blades slicing clean through the air—precise, sharp, the opposite of Bray's reckless swing.

"I see it now," Caster murmured, his smirk returning. His focus shifted. He had his answer.

"Not a good plan." he muttered.

His left heel lifted slowly, like a runner bracing at the starting line.

Then—

Ding!!

He stomped. Metal rang out.

Jamie froze mid-air. This was the demonstration of power he'd been waiting for.

The floor cracked beneath them, a chain reaction tearing the ground apart—stone shattering, pieces collapsing like falling dominoes.

Phu! Phu! Phu!

The ground caved in three layers deep, pushing the two ground fighters back, rubble scattering beneath their feet.

"What the hell—?!" Alexander shouted, stumbling.

Jamie, still airborne, felt it—the heat rising, pressure bursting upward like a furnace. The rebound was coming straight for him.

Boom!!

The force struck him, hurling him into the ceiling.

"Arghh!!" he screamed.

Debris rained down. His body crumpled against the ground, blood spraying from his mouth like a burst pipe.

Boooom!!

The impact flattened him, the floor cracking further under his fall. Blood pooled beneath him, his wounds too many to count.

"Khh—Khh—" he coughed violently.

Caster walked forward calmly, his expression unreadable. He grabbed Jamie by the shirt, lifting him like dead weight, then tossed him effortlessly toward the others.

"I told you not to hold back," he said coldly. This time, there was no hint of playfulness in his tone.

The others rushed to Jamie's side, lifting him carefully, terrified of making his wounds worse.

"You've already given up?" Caster asked.

"Not a damn chance," Jamie rasped, forcing himself upright, one leg buckling beneath him. The landing had wrecked his body, but his spirit didn't break. He had to push Caster—no matter what.

"Use your golden points. It's the only way," Caster pressed. He wasn't lying. After what they'd just seen, it was doubtful they could even scratch him otherwise.

"You okay?" Alexander asked.

"Never better," Jamie lied, blood staining his lips.

"We need those relics," Bray growled, tightening his grip.

Alexander's eyes scanned the wrecked battlefield, the uneven terrain, the impossible gap in strength. The truth was simple: they couldn't win. Not like this.

"Guys," he said grimly, "we only have one choice. Fight with everything we've got."

[Special skill>One man army]

A surge of aura roared around him.

Bray's eyes widened—he could see it clearly. Alexander knew they were outmatched, but surrender wasn't an option. That wasn't how you grew stronger.

[Special skill>Elastic potential]

Jamie froze, hesitation gripping him.

"If I use Yellow Sun, they'll know something's off."

"If I don't, they'll suspect me anyway…"

He was caught in his own mind—until Caster's voice snapped him back.

"That's more like it!"

"You asked for this," Alexander warned him.

Caster just smirked. "Relax. I can handle myself."

"Tell me," he suddenly asked, tilting his head. "What do you think the limit is for a single attribute upgrade?"

The trio exchanged uneasy glances.

"Why the hell does that matter?" Bray shot back.

"Just answer."

"Fine. A thousand," Alexander said flatly, sarcasm dripping.

Caster laughed. Hard.

"You're way off," he said, eyes gleaming. "The limit is one hundred thousand."

"What?!"

The words slammed into them harder than his stomp. A single revelation—and their entire world tilted.

Maybe they weren't just weak.

Maybe they were nothing.