How to Make the Perfect Demon Lord

The trio finally arrived inside the oval stadium. It was a tall and crowded structure, its size seeming to grow larger with every new person who entered. The pitch had been replaced by a gigantic screen that usually displayed a bird's-eye view of what transpired below, but for now, it remained dark, showing nothing. In front of the screen stretched a wide patch of tiled ground where the participants would later walk through for the audience to see.

The boys moved through the crowd, twisting and turning as they searched for a perfect spot to sit.

"Excuse me."

"Excuse me."

They repeated softly as they passed through groups of people, their eyes locked on a place that wasn't too close nor too far from the screen.

They finally sat beside a fat man wearing a journalist's cape. In his hand was a notepad, though instead of writing what was happening around him, he scribbled betting numbers and predictions. His focus wasn't on reporting the event but on the outcome of the third game.

After a few glances at what the man was writing, the boys shifted their attention around the stadium. They admired the structure, its circular walls and artistic design showing the mastery of its builders. A raised curve ran around the top section, forming a luxurious area covered by a beautifully decorated roof. That was the VIP section, reserved for those of power and prestige.

Different lights glowed from that section, representing the various clan masters, each carrying the colors and symbols of their guilds.

At the far east sat Captain Cain of the White Jaguars. He wore a white shirt just like the last time they had seen him, with a pair of black jeans. His broad arms rested on the chair, and even from a distance, the scar on his face was clearly visible.

Next to him was Captain Fiona of the Five Scorpions, the same woman who had once sat beside Eva in the main hall. She was the captain of the very guild Greg served as vice-captain of, and the same guild Eva had come from. Today she wore a red dress, bangles shining around her arms, and her eyes sparkled like crystal, so bright that her pupils were invisible.

From the far west sat Captain Blues of the Blue Eagles. His jumper was a deep blue, blending perfectly with his natural color, making him stand out just as Bray did.

Near the tallest chair of them all, crafted with golden bindings that shimmered like sunlight, sat a familiar face. His black suit was lined with golden threads, and his fingers wore rings that matched his golden knuckles. This was Captain Ron of the Grid Lions, the strongest clan of them all.

[Attention players, both participants and watchers]

Medussa's voice echoed across the arena, sending a wave of whispers and comments through the crowd.

All eyes turned toward the sky where a cluster of bright stars descended, covered by a glowing blue mist that shimmered beneath the sunlight. Some people froze, mesmerized by the sight, while others bowed their heads in awe. The stars looked divine, a vision of beauty and power. In a world so harsh and cruel, many found comfort in believing such wonders came from the heavens, even if their prayers were never answered.

[All players, turn your eyes to the presence of the management] the voice continued.

"It sounds good every time," the gambling journalist exclaimed beside them, his tone full of excitement.

Suddenly beams of light burst from the sky and struck the roof of the stadium. The sound of energy zapping filled the air as shapes began to form within the beams. There was no doubt about it—they were teleporting.

Screams erupted across the stands, familiar voices calling out names. Everyone seemed to know someone from the group descending, whether human or elf. The crowd adored them, having followed every detail of their careers and lives.

Then the light faded, retracting back into the heavens, revealing five beings standing tall—three humans and two elves.

"Isn't that Caster?" Jamie said, pointing to the one in the center, wearing a black tuxedo once again.

Bray narrowed his eyes, focusing. "It is," he confirmed.

They exchanged a glance, remembering what Caster had told them earlier at their house.

"He's one of the few who oversee Midgard."

Now it made sense. The respect he carried, the presence he held—it all came from the role he played in maintaining this cruel world.

"Welcome everyone!" a curvy lady among the five shouted. Her voice was powerful, clear enough to fill the entire stadium without a microphone.

"Let us raise our vision and our hopes to the Goddess of Midworld, the one and only!" she declared proudly.

The heavens brightened. A golden chariot appeared, drawn by a white horse with magnificent wings and fur as smooth as silk. Golden reins connected the creature to the glowing cart, designed like the ones used in ancient Roman wars but sculpted entirely from gold.

Seated on the chariot was a familiar face—the Goddess herself. She sat beneath a golden umbrella, her posture elegant, her expression calm as if the sun above was beneath her and not the other way around. She waved at the people below, smiling like a ruler greeting her nation. The rings on her fingers glittered as she moved her hand.

The crowd roared with joy, shouting and cheering her name. Even the journalist beside them had forgotten his notepad, completely lost in admiration.

Bray froze, unable to believe what he was seeing. The Goddess was beautiful beyond measure. Her white dress hugged her form perfectly, and her chest rose proudly, stirring something in him that even the bar girls could not. But that was the curse of human desire—we always want what we cannot have.

Jamie, however, felt something entirely different. His eyes narrowed, his heart burning with hatred.

"You're the one behind all this," he muttered under his breath.

To him, she was not a goddess. She was the source of everything wrong with this world. The sight of her made his blood boil. If he could, he would have torn through every barrier to reach her. But he knew he couldn't. Between him and her stood the captains, the overseers, and a power that no human could face alone.

Gu

The chariot reached the roof. Caster stepped forward and opened its shining gate, offering his hand to the Goddess like a gentleman of old. She smiled softly as she accepted his hand.

"Thank you," she said kindly, and the overseers bowed their heads in return.

Then she descended through the roof, her body passing gently through the barrier like it was made of light, and she took her seat upon the tallest golden chair. The roof shaded her from the sunlight, as if even the sun itself was unworthy of touching her. The sight alone was enough to remind everyone how powerful she was. The captains stared in awe, while the overseers remained above, standing guard.

"May the players arrive," she called.

A loud creak echoed across the arena as a massive gate opened in a place that the boys could not clearly see.

Suddenly the noise in the stadium doubled. Screams and cheers exploded as the participants of the third game began to appear. Their hair shimmered with gold, their faces proud and fierce.

The crowd's excitement was uncontrollable. Some started placing bets instantly, judging who might win just by their appearance.

Then the contestants fully emerged, and at that moment, the boys saw the one person they had come to save. Their hearts froze.

But between them and that person was an unbreakable gap. The one they cared for stood down there as a performer, while they sat helplessly above as mere spectators.