I Reincarnated as a Demon King,I Will Kill Everything

The air in Crowmere is a knife. My weight and his edge grind against each other until the altar stone groans.

Roger turns his blade—not graceful, but stubborn. I answer in silence.

[DARK STINGER] → [GRAVITY SHEAR]

My fist drives at the center; his cut scrapes the edge. Black-silver sparks erupt. We break a handspan apart and re-enter. No wasted steps.

"For Elrodan," he mutters.

"For silence," I return.

He drags the oath into bone.

[OATHCUTTER – Inner Line] carves at the rim of my crown; Silent Crown tightens and creases.

I slot [Soul Clamp] into the seam—pinning the Domain so it can't split.

Noa's voice is flat from the gauntlet. "Silent Crown integrity -4%. Rim cracked; core stable. Recommend: strike frame, not blade."

I comply:

[FOREFIST PUNCH] into ribs → [KNEE DROP] to the thigh.

The shock travels through the plate. Roger's breath shortens, but his line holds. His return cut kisses skin—fine hairs on my horn lift.

Cathedral Gate

Selena sets the halberd's butt on the stone—tok. Her breath crystallizes. A circle of runes flares; icicles grow upward like tree veins, hunting armor seams—armpits, elbows, groin.

[FROST HOOKS]

Ice hooks as thin as fish bones pierce the joints. Selena turns her wrist a quarter. The hooks yank together.

CRAT-CRAT! Shoulder joints tear from their sockets; ligaments snap like bowstrings. A knight collapses to his knees, helm clanging off a comrade's shield.

Selena sidesteps. The halberd tip slides under the knight's chin—no hack, a clean slice through the gap. When she withdraws the steel, white vapor jets from his mouth: lungs flash-frozen. She holds his visor in her stare until the light inside dies, then twists again—hooks drag three more bodies crosswise, piling a human dam that chokes the rearguard's push.

On the right, Nana drops her center. Cheondan perfect. Spears hammer her shield, but the bottom lip tilts 15°, making each thrust skid.

[Guard Break]

Half-step slide—THUD! Her shield's edge smashes the "nose" of the enemy shield. Teeth shatter back into a throat; the warrior vomits in his helm.

A heartbeat's gap. [Radiant Slash], thin as paper, nicks the flexor tendon of the left spearman's wrist; his grip fails, shaft topples across a comrade's shins. Nana rotates from the waist; the shield crashes again—two bodies fold like a door with broken hinges.

Malrik presses runes into dust; embers glow under his fingertips. The ground gapes—not a hole, a jaw.

[HELL MAW]

Rift oscillations sand from below: calf → knee. Armor seams are sawed by space itself. When the jaws close—ZRAAK!—plates split, flesh rips. Hell Maw spits out the unwanted: a pair of empty greaves and bone splinters skitter across the flagstones. Hot blood hits Selena's chill and lifts as crimson steam. The rear line stumbles on its own horror.

Nysha rides shadow. One breath she's a pencil line under a shield; the next she's on the wing-captain's back, clinging like a stain.

[Shadow Garrote]

A dark filament loops the collar seam; one sharp tug. A short crack only the man behind can hear. Nysha shoves the dead captain forward, tripping the first two ranks; rhythm breaks. A stiletto slips under the scapula of the next soldier—a spot they forget to cover—then she's gone, folded into the tent's silhouette.

Clarissa works like a nurse in a slaughterhouse. A vial of cold blood touches a demon wound—hiss—soul temperature drops; King's Loom stitches don't have to force.

A knight staggers out of line, dragging a leg. Clarissa fake-stumbles, luring him two steps.

[Crimson Draught]

Left hand pins the chestplate; right hand flicks the gorget strap. Her teeth take the artery—not crushing, drawing. The pulse dims in three seconds. She seals the twin punctures with clotted saliva so blood doesn't spray. She sits him neatly as if fainted, then glides back, fingers on our troops' pulse one by one.

Noa counts. "Elixir windows—Rena 5:07, Selena 6:12, Nana 7:03. Anchor rhythms: steady."

Back to the Duel

Roger grinds his jaw. Moon-script flares over his heart—an oath nailed into muscle.

[MOONBLOOD VOW]

The oath hardens. His blade bites deeper at the Domain's rim. Silent Crown −7%.

"I'll cut your crown at the edge," he hisses.

"And I'll crush your bones in the middle," I say.

I change cadence:

[WEIGHTED STEPS] (Silent Crown loads weight into my soles) → [ELBOW CRUSH] (shoulder lock) → [HEADBUTT] (helm to helm).

KRAK!—Roger's left shoulder dislocates. He doesn't scream; Oathcutter still shears past my tendon, etching a silver line on my skin. I lock the wound inside the Domain—no entry to the anchor.

He slides half a step back, then thrusts with no flourish.

[OATH SPIKE]—a vertical razor.

I tilt a finger's width; steel rakes my jawline and misses.

[BLACK MOON PIN]—a Domain nail pins his right ankle to stone. Roger jerks; the oath rips the pin free, but a hairline crack crawls along his blade—oath eats its own vessel.

"Your sword's getting hungry," I whisper. "I'm still full."

He crosses and splits the second pin. I nail his shoulder—two Domain spikes hold the joint out of socket so it can't reseat. Cruel? Yes. Efficient.

Across the yard, Selena's patience ends.

[ICE RACK] lifts three soldiers onto ice stakes; they writhe until they're quiet.

Nana hammers a captain's nape—[Shield Bash]—a muffled crack; she steps on the spear-wrist—clean break.

Malrik casts bone chains from the rift and trawls the rear like a fisherman.

Noa again: "Silent Crown −2% (stable). Rena elixir 3:58. Advisory: accelerate."

"Listen, Roger," I press. "I can end it quickly or slowly. You swore—you choose."

He answers with action. He tears the shoulder pin free under the oath—blood soaks his belt—then lights the rest:

[MOONBREAK: AXIS SEVER]

His blade doesn't cut me—it severs the Domain's axis. Silent Crown wobbles a fraction.

"Now," I breathe.

[COUNTER-STEP] → [BLACK MOON DRIVE]

My fist drills the breastplate, slipping through the glowing seam of oath.

KRAAANG!—the plate cracks; his breath goes out in a grunt.

I stamp his sword-wrist. Krek.

He bites his tongue to cage the cry.

"For Elrodan," he rasps. "Die… stubborn."

"No," I say. "Die slow."

I ram Noa into his elbow—[JOINT CRUSH]—the joint pops. One by one I set Domain pins along his fingers—click, click, click—blocking the fine oath channels at the blade's hilt.

At the gate, the thunder of thousands of boots collapses into rage. Selena and Nana stand atop a stair of bodies. Clarissa washes stone with cold blood to snuff holy heat. Nysha perches on the statue's shoulder, legs swinging—face clean, hands filthy.

Roger still fights to rise on one arm and one knee. The hard line in his eyes doesn't fade. He props his sword with the broken arm—the oath makes a splint.

"Can you still stand?" My voice is flat. "Good. Listen."

I press the gauntlet to his helm. Silent Crown closes; pressure drops drop by drop—enough to deafen, enough to let helplessness fill the world.

"Loud is screaming when struck," I whisper through the static. "Heavy is staying quiet while the world shatters—then answering."

He spits blood on my robe. "Kill me."

"No." I glance to Nysha. "Oath-bond. Activate."

She descends. Shadow-fingers sew his oath into the Domain's chains. Now his own vow shackles him—lift the blade and he cuts himself.

"Take him to the Undercrypt," I order two core demons. "Let him hear Crowmere silent before I give him a choice."

Roger barks a laugh—half blood. "Choice—what?"

"See what your white sword hides… or lose your tongue so you can't swear again."

He gives me one last look—small flame, stubborn. "I am a soldier. I can die now."

"So easy?" I smile thinly. "Silence hates easy."

In the distance, not a bell—just a crack running down the moon-goddess statue. Selena clears the last pockets; Nana locks the line; Malrik seals the rift; Clarissa calms our pulse of souls; Rena holds the perimeter, breath cold.

Noa whispers, "Elixirs: spent. Troop rhythms: secure. Crown: stable."

I glance at Kravius in the statue's shadow. He watches—gray eyes memorizing cruelty without blinking.

"Enough," I tell the night that doesn't sing. "The Cathedral has learned."

I fold Roger's knee—gently—until he kneels on the cold stone. His oath is now the anchor I dictate.

"Now," I whisper, "we teach the world: once the bells are silenced, it's the tongue's turn."