How to Make the Perfect Demon Lord

Gulliver Area 1, House K, Room 2

Greg was upstairs, lights off, fast asleep. He was snoring, sealed tight in his blanket, while the world around him felt like it was crumbling into rubble.

Suddenly, the sound of a TV echoed in his head — an interview between a presenter and a woman. They exchanged opinions on clashing ideals. At first, he thought it was just a dream, but the louder it grew, the clearer it became: this was real.

He sat up, long hair messy, and slowly descended the stairs.

Is it the boys? No — they wouldn't make that much noise. Maybe Bray and Alexander, sure… but Jamie would never let them. As Greg got closer to the stairway, light spilled across the corridor, crunching sounds filling the air with a wave of mana .

All those signs pointed to one person he knew far too well.

"Shit. Not her again!"

He rushed forward, abandoning stealth for a head-on approach.

"Did you have to make it that loud?" he snapped, stomping down the stairs.

"Bought you a TV. Wanted to try it out," she replied.

"There's one at headquarters. Why come here?"

"I know, but sometimes it's good to change the scenery, you know?" she said lightly.

Greg took a deep breath, his hand resting on the white flat-screen TV, swallowing back the retort that almost left his mouth.

"How did the captain even allow you to come at this hour?" he demanded.

"Easy. He didn't," she said, still chewing popcorn from a red paper bag.

"If he hears you're here, you'll be in trouble!"

"Leave him to me. Change back. Blow off some steam," she said, tapping the empty seat beside her.

Greg barely looked at her, sleep still clinging to his eyes.

"You'll go if I sit, right?" he bargained.

She nodded.

"Huh…" He gasped.

Beep. Beep.

His system screen appeared. This time, only he could see it.

[Deactivate Special Skill > Face warp<]

Suddenly Greg's face began to disintegrate, like a mask being pulled away — fading bit by bit into pixels. His hair changed too, shedding like a snake's skin.

What emerged beneath was a glowing face, angelic, soft like a newborn. His eyes shone golden, spherical like marbles, bright as diamonds against the sun. Golden lashes framed them, thick and heavy. His hair too transformed — soft as cotton, straight, cared for, growing longer, pure gold in color.

He had become something entirely new.

"I've missed this look," she whispered.

Greg walked into the kitchen, poured himself a mug of warm milk, then returned and sat across from her.

"Well, you won't be seeing it again soon," he said, sipping casually.

Silence settled over them. Only the soft sounds of his sipping filled the room.

"They told me not to say this," she finally broke the quiet, "but…"

Greg lifted his head, curiosity piqued.

"They missed you."

"Don't try to make me feel good."

"I'm not lying. We missed you… our vice captain," she finished. Her voice carried no deception. She meant it.

Greg rested his arms lazily on the couch, the cup of milk balanced loosely in his hand. He tilted his head back, eyes tracing the ceiling as though it held the answers he didn't want to face.

"Why did you have to say that?" His voice was low, almost cracking. "You'll make me homesick."

The woman only smirked,proud, tossing another handful of popcorn into her mouth, the crunch echoing louder than it should have.

…

CENTRAL GYM

Aaah!!

A blade sliced through the air.

Ding!

Caster parried it with his bangle, shoving the attacker back. Two clones appeared, weapons raised.

Hit!

Hit!

He punched them away — they vanished in a puff of smoke.

Bray launched his chain high, aiming to bind him. Caster raised his arm, letting the chain coil around it. In an instant, he yanked it down, dragging Bray toward him. He lashed out with a low kick, aiming to break his stance.

But then he bent impossibly low, bones and body stretching in ways no normal human could. Caster had read their plan from start to finish. He stepped down hard, pinning Bray beneath his weight.

Blood and spit burst from Bray's mouth, agony flooding his stomach as rubble scattered across the floor, proof of the damage inflicted.

Jamie charged in, exchanging furious blows with Caster while his leg still pinned Bray.

"Get off him!" Jamie snarled, striking harder, his gaze torn between his foe and his fallen friend.

"Make me," Caster replied coldly.

"Aaah!!"

Alexander joined in, leaping into the fray. Now it was three against one, a desperate brawl.

Pow!

Caster shoved Alexander away.

Pow!

He drove a fist into Jamie's chest, sending him flying. Resilient, Jamie caught himself midair, then rocketed back like a bullet, spearing into Caster, pushing with everything he had.

"Get him out!" Jamie shouted. But no matter how much force he used, Caster wouldn't budge.

"If you want to save him that badly… replace him," Caster hissed.

He flicked his fingers against Jamie's back, slamming him into the ground. Kicking Bray aside, he stomped Jamie's head into the floor.

"Aaah!" Jamie groaned. It felt like a mountain had crashed onto him, crushing yet somehow not enough to shatter him completely.

Alexander knelt, bruised and battered from earlier blows.

"I know you're hurt," he shouted at Bray, "but we have to help him!"

Bray was still frozen, his body reeling from the punishment he'd endured.

"Aah!!" Jamie cried again as Caster ground his heel deeper, feeding him more pain.

"Bray!!" Alexander yelled, desperation in his voice.

Shaking, Bray forced himself to rise.

"Go. I'll cover you," Alexander said, voice ragged. He was clearly injured, in no shape to fight — but a man had to do what a man had to do.

Spark!!

Alexander's blade clashed once more against Caster's bangle. In his mind, it didn't make sense — such a small ornament fending off strike after strike like it was nothing.

Caster countered, but Bray joined in, the two attacking together. Still, it wasn't enough. Too many of Caster's blows connected. They were falling apart, unable to keep up.

Tears blurred Jamie's eyes. The truth hit him hard: the gap between them was too wide. At his current level, he couldn't even dream of meeting the creators of Midgard, let alone challenging them.

It was time. Time to start the journey toward true strength.

[Special Skill > Yellow Sun <]