How to Make the Perfect Demon Lord

Lights shimmered on the ground, illuminating the arena. Greg's face began to peel away, shelling off like paint from a wall on a rainy day. His hair color shifted into something marvelous, and for a brief moment, he became the center of everyone's attention. His features transcended beyond the ordinary—though human.

"Is that who I think it is?"

"Incredible!"

"Yes, he is!"

Whispers rippled through the crowd as they realized who had just revealed himself in their presence.

"It's the Vice-Captain of the Five Scorpions!" someone shouted, and soon the name spread like wildfire. Within moments, the revelation had reached every corner of the colossal stadium.

The goddess, unlike the rest, did not appear surprised. Her calm demeanor hinted that she had known Greg's true identity all along. Since the transformation happened in broad daylight, it was easy to assume she was one of the gods who had always wanted Alexander to be the anchor being.

Murmurs rose from the stands. Many spectators cried out that it was unfair for a vice-captain to take part in the third game. Their unease grew louder by the second. If it had been possible, they might have thrown bottles or trash at him—an old habit borrowed from the world of the living.

"How is a vice-captain even there!?" Captain Blue snapped, pointing sharply at Greg. The veins on his neck bulged with frustration. His eyes darted toward Captain Fiona.

"Explain yourself, damn it!" he demanded.

"With all due respect," Fiona began in a calm, composed tone, her voice carrying the faint elegance of a British accent—like a trained MI agent. "Although Greg possesses exceptional skill, he is still yet to play his third game."

"Impossible!" Captain Blue spat, his disbelief evident.

"Medussa!" the goddess called out.

[Yes, sire!] came a voice—no visible figure, but the tone was royal, reverent, as if the speaker had bowed deeply.

"Scan him," the goddess ordered.

[As you wish, sire.]

Beep.

A warping sound echoed through the arena. A bright beam of light descended and swept across Greg's body as he stood tall, smiling confidently—his gaze locked intensely on Jamie.

The crowd's anticipation soared to an all-time high, an emotion born only in Midworld.

[Scanning complete.]

[Player is to play the third game.]

Whispers erupted again. Some refused to believe the system's result, accusing it of falsifying the scan. Others cheered in awe, while a few of the religious ones even bowed in worship, revering the revelation that had just unfolded before them. But no one had the power to change the verdict—except the gods.

"Medussa has spoken!" the goddess declared, raising her hands to the heavens like a caster in Midgard. "May the games begin!"

"Yes!" the crowd roared, their collective cry echoing like a battle chant.

Suddenly—

Magic rings formed beneath every player's feet, glowing in circles of different colors and symbols. The long-awaited moment had arrived.

[Commencing teleportation protocol in…]

[3]

The countdown began, the goddess's voice as calm as if she were arming a bomb.

[2]

The watchers joined in, their excitement deafening.

[1]

Light exploded—rays of different colors and elemental affinities surged upward, drowning each player in brilliance before pulling them down as though a giant unseen hand had seized them.

Peeew!

In an instant, they vanished—leaving only faint teleportation circles glowing on the ground.

Jamie plummeted through the air, the wind whipping against his face, tossing his hair wildly in every direction. Below him stretched a vast forest blanketed in mist. It resembled the forests of Midgard, though much larger in scale.

As he fell, his expression hardened—fearless, focused.

"Greg… Alexander," he thought. "I don't fully understand what's going on, but one thing's certain—I'm going to reach the end of all this."

The trees rushed up to meet him, their roots hidden beneath thick fog.

Boom!

A thunderous impact shook the ground as the first player landed, the force echoing like an earthquake.

Boom! Boom!

Two more followed, then several others in rapid succession—ten in total. Dust exploded outward like the burst of a dirty blanket, cloaking the forest in gray clouds that marked each landing point.

Then silence.

Everyone had arrived. Each player began silently mapping out the terrain of their new battleground.

The watchers screamed with excitement as the broadcast showed every landing point, tracking which enemies were closest to one another.

"Don't die on me," Bray muttered, tension etched in his voice.

Jamie stood quietly within the forest. The thick canopy above dimmed the light, allowing only faint beams to pierce through the leaves. A chilling wind drifted between the trees, though it barely affected him—their bodies were already hardened from the fall.

Beep.

A blue system screen appeared before him.

[Five minutes to the first round.]

[Prepare yourselves.]

The glowing text faded in and out.

"I need to check my surroundings," he thought, turning his gaze toward the tallest nearby tree. Its roots crawled across the ground, intertwining with others. Moss and algae coated the bark, making it slick and green.

Phu!

He leapt gracefully, landing on a high branch, gaining a bird's-eye view that no one on the ground could achieve. From that height, he scanned the fog-covered forest below.

His thoughts darkened.

"Greg… what's wrong with you?" A sinister grin crept across his face, the golden hue of his eyes flashing faintly. "With everything he said, I might be his first target… I need to stay alert."

Peww!

A kunai sliced through the air from the left, aimed straight at his head. Instinctively, Jamie ducked.

Pwah!

The weapon struck the tree behind him, burying deep into its fresh bark. Splinters burst outward, scattering through the air.

"An enemy already," he muttered, straightening his posture. "That's better."

Vuu—Phu!

He jumped to another branch on a nearby tree, his eyes narrowing toward the origin of the attack. The darkness masked the assailant's figure.

"Why don't you stop hiding?" Jamie challenged, his voice low and confident. "Don't waste your energy on petty tricks."

His gaze swept the shadows, scanning for the faintest movement.

Pew!

Another kunai flew—this time aimed at his chest.

Pwah!

He dodged again, faster than before.

"Got you!" he hissed, eyes locking onto a specific point in the darkness. He launched himself like a spring-loaded arrow. But as he flew forward, the surrounding light dimmed unnaturally. The air thickened. Mana bent around him.

"It's a trap," he realized.

Dark walls surged up around him, closing in like shadows made solid.

Then a deep voice echoed close by—steady and menacing.

[Special Skill > King's Fortress]