How to Make the Perfect Demon Lord

Ealier

Alexander looked down calmly as he fell, his body slicing through the air at an inexplicable speed. His eyes scanned the ground below, his posture and movements showcasing a kind of aerial mastery that only came from deep, multi-disciplinary training.

Not far from him, one of the Blue Eagles was also descending — a veteran, his hair shining with the same distinctive blue hue as his comrades. His composure was steady, unshaken by the fall. A sharp smirk pulled at his lips as he shifted direction, pushing himself through the air toward the new recruit. Whatever he had planned didn't look good.

Phu!

Alexander hit the ground, dust erupting around him like a localized explosion. The impact was powerful enough to rattle the forest, cloaking everything in a thick haze even heavier than the mist. A nearby tree groaned and toppled, crashing into another. The chain reaction continued — tree after tree bowing under the force — until the forest itself seemed to tremble.

Phu!

The Blue Eagle landed next. His impact was even stronger, the shockwave uprooting the very tree that had stopped the first from falling. Chunks of earth tore upward, roots dangling from the air.

Phu!

Phu!

Two more trees went down before a third finally absorbed the energy and brought the chaos to a halt.

Alexander turned, eyes narrowing toward the crater where his opponent had landed.

"This is a nice coincidence," the man said, his voice thick with a Russian accent.

He was calm — almost too calm — his tone laced with cunning. Clearly, he wanted to talk before the fight began.

Alexander said nothing. His silence was unbroken, his body language sharp and vigilant. Since arriving at the stadium, he hadn't uttered a single word.

"This place gives me the creeps," the man added, rubbing his arms as though trying to summon warmth — not from the cold air, but from the unsettling energy that radiated through the forest floor.

Still, no response from Alexander.

Beep.

His system came alive.

"Five minutes," he thought. His gaze shifted to the glowing screen before him, his focus momentarily consumed by it — as if the man standing in front of him had ceased to exist.

"You've got four minutes to try whatever you want," Alexander shouted, finally breaking his silence.

"Heeh!"

A grin of wild excitement spread across the man's face — a grin that could easily be mistaken for obsession.

"Don't worry," he said darkly. "Killing you won't take that long."

He flicked his fingers together, summoning something unseen.

Viuuu—

A weapon began to materialize between his hands. At first, it looked like a strange handle — but as the energy solidified, the shape became clearer. It wasn't a handle at all. It was a stock.

Vwuu—

The sound deepened. A gold-lined bullet pack formed next, followed by a thick barrel and a gleaming trigger. When the light finally faded, what remained was unmistakable — a gun.

A gun.

"Yeees!"

"That's what we came here to see!"

"That's the might of the Blue Eagles!"

The Blue Eagles in the audience roared in triumph.

Bray, watching from afar, froze. He had seen something he thought was impossible — a firearm. In the world of the living, guns were relics of terror and authority. Even in the poorest slums, those who possessed one ruled over those who didn't.

From the VIP section, Captain Blue grinned, turning toward the man in gold beside him.

"I'm sorry," he said mockingly, "but your underling doesn't stand a chance."

The surrounding captains turned their attention toward him.

"In the old world, he was called The Single Bullet," Captain Blue continued. "At short to mid-range, no one could match him. Every fight he entered, he won." He leaned back, pride dripping from his tone. "If I were you, I'd start preparing to find his replacement."

The Goddess smiled, glancing toward Captain Ron of the Grid Lions.

"What do you say, Captain?" she asked, her voice deliberately provocative, trying to stir conflict.

Ron simply shook his head, refusing to be baited.

This was no ordinary gun — not a modern weapon of their generation. It wasnt a Desert Eagle, but a weapon of the old days — the kind you'd see in the hands of sheriffs under the burning sun. One spin of its magazine could decide life or death in an instant, its power strong enough to scatter a man's body in pieces.

Yet Alexander didn't flinch. His face betrayed nothing close to fear. He had seen guns before — many of them. Being born into a family of assassins, he'd studied their every strength and weakness. And now, fate had given him another chance to put that knowledge to use.

Pow! Pow!

Two deafening gunshots tore through the air, each bullet whistling as it cut forward with lethal precision.

Alexander's muscles tightened. He leapt backward in a single explosive motion, dodging just in time.

Phu! Phu!

The bullets shredded through the trees behind him, carving holes clean through the trunks before embedding deep into the forest beyond.

Pow! Pow!

Another pair of shots. The bullets screamed through the air like predators chasing their prey.

Alexander dropped low, letting himself fall faster to avoid the first — but—

Tsk!

The second hit. A clean shot to the leg.

"Yes!" Captain Blue erupted, his voice brimming with triumph. "That's it! That's the end of your Grid Lion!"

"Alexander!" Bray shouted, even though he knew his voice would never reach him.

Phu!

Alexander crashed to one knee. Blood spilled freely from the wound, pain searing through his nerves. No one ever truly got used to being shot.

"Stand up!" the Russian taunted, reloading with an eager grin. "Fight back! I like it when they resist — it makes killing them so much better!"

Alexander's glare burned with fury. He hated everything about this man.

"I told you!" Captain Blue howled again. "He doesn't stand a chance!" His laughter echoed through the VIP section, manic and proud. The other captains glanced at him with disgust — though none dared interrupt. The Blue Eagles' hatred for the Grid Lions was notorious.

"Shut up," Captain Ron finally said. His tone was low, but carried the weight of a blade. The stands went quiet instantly.

"Watch," he said coldly. "You might learn something."

Every captain turned their eyes back to the battlefield — just as something truly unexpected was about to unfold.