I Reincarnated as a Demon King,I Will Kill Everything

The Hollow bled red light as we prepared to march.

Ash drifted from the ceiling veins, glowing faint like ember snow. The practice grounds behind us were scarred from yesterday's drills—cracks in the obsidian, melted grooves where Selena's frost had fought Malrik's fire, and stains of black blood hardened into glass. My demons stood ready at the edge of the Black Spire. Their armor patched, their blades sharpened, their eyes hollow from exhaustion yet sharp as drawn wires.

We had drilled until silence itself pressed into their lungs. Now, there was no more waiting. The priest was next.

Noa's voice hummed inside the gauntlet.

"Target: city of Lumen, My Lord. Estimated distance—three days by mortal march. With gate compression, one hour."

"Then open it," I said.

Rena obeyed. She crossed her blades in the air and tore a line through reality. Shadows bled outward, becoming a door. Cold wind spilled from it, carrying the faint smell of snow and incense. Lumen waited beyond.

I stepped first. My demons followed. Hell closed behind us.

The mountain air of Lumen was too clean. Too thin. It cut my throat after Hell's furnace. White peaks rose into the clouds, rivers threading silver through valleys. Villages clung to the cliffs, wooden houses with painted shutters, smoke curling from chimneys. A bell tolled in the distance—soft, hesitant, as if the sound itself doubted its purpose.

We walked along the ledge path. Our armor drew stares from shepherds and traders, but no one dared speak. They turned away, whispering prayers, clutching charms of the moon. Fear traveled faster than footsteps; Crowmere's silence had already reached this place.

Selena swung her halberd idly, tapping the ground. "It's almost… pretty here," she said, lips curling. "Shame it won't last."

"Don't waste your breath," I answered. "The priest is not in the houses. He's in the vault."

"The scabbard," Rena added, her voice flat. "The man who holds a sword inside his flesh."

Zereth lowered his hood. His eyes gleamed, faint with pain but sharp. "If the Whisper King told the truth, the priest's body is a sheath. A vessel carved by the gods to hide one of their blades. If we kill him, the sword is free."

Noa clicked. "Correction: if we kill him improperly, the sword is free. Then it kills us. Suggest precise strike. Containment pattern required, My Lord."

I nodded once. "Then we'll carve carefully."

By nightfall, we reached the outer gates of Lumen. The city was carved into the mountain's side, a fortress of white stone and golden roofs. Walls spiraled upward, watchtowers glowing with rune-lanterns. Banners of the Church flapped in the cold wind—silver moons on fields of white. Guards in steel stood at every gate, their eyes hard but their knuckles pale.

The bells tolled again. Louder. Faster. The city was already afraid.

Clarissa spoke quietly, carrying her crimson vial close. "They know something. Perhaps they've been warned."

"Good," I said. "Fear makes mistakes."

We entered by shadow. Nysha pulled us through alleys, stepping from darkness to darkness. Rena masked our presence with her domain. The guards never saw us, though more than once I felt their gaze pass close enough to graze my neck.

Inside, the city smelled of incense and pine. Merchants had abandoned their stalls. Priests marched in lines, carrying silver staffs. Children were pulled indoors. Doors slammed. Shutters closed. Only the bells did not stop.

At the heart of Lumen stood the Cathedral of the Sheath.

It rose like a blade carved from the mountain itself. The front doors were iron ten men high, embossed with a single rune—the crescent cut of the god's oath. Around it were statues of warriors kneeling, their mouths sealed with stone bands. Even in silence, they screamed.

Selena spat on the steps. "Pretty lies carved in stone."

"Not lies," I said. "Warnings."

The doors opened without touch. The bells stopped.

We entered.

The inside was wrong.

The cathedral's nave stretched too far, as if the mountain had swallowed another mountain. Pillars of white marble twisted upward like ribs, vanishing into black mist. Rows of pews lined the hall, but no one sat. Instead, figures stood frozen in place—priests, nuns, knights—all turned to stone. Their eyes wide. Their hands folded in prayer. Trapped mid-breath.

"Petrified," Clarissa whispered. "Not dead. Bound."

Malrik sniffed. His nostrils flared. "Soul scent. Heavy. This whole place is… a sheath."

At the far end of the hall, upon an altar of black glass, stood the priest.

He was tall and thin, his body wrapped in silver robes that shimmered like flowing water. His head was bowed, his hands clasped over his chest. And from his chest rose the hilt of a sword—buried deep into his flesh, glowing with holy fire. Veins of silver light spread from it, threading across his body like roots.

The Scabbard Priest.

His eyes opened as we approached. They were pale, empty, yet burning with moonlight. His voice echoed, layered, as if many throats spoke through one mouth.

"You should not be here, My Lord of Silence."

The title hissed through the air like a curse.

Rena stepped forward, blades ready. "He knows you."

"Of course he does," Selena muttered. "They all do."

I stopped at the edge of the altar's light. My gauntlet pulsed, Noa humming low. "So. You're the sheath."

"I am the guardian," the priest said. "I am the vessel. Through my flesh, the blade sleeps. Through my soul, the gods bind it. You cannot take it without tearing the world."

"Then I'll tear it," I said.

His lips curved faintly. "You do not understand. I am not one man. I am all who prayed before this altar. Their voices chain me. Their bodies feed me. Kill me, and they rise."

The petrified figures around us trembled. Cracks ran through stone. Fingers twitched. Eyes blinked, bleeding dust.

Noa's tone sharpened. "Warning: resonance spike. Anchor disruption imminent."

The priest spread his arms, silver light pouring from the wound in his chest. The sword glowed brighter, as if eager to be drawn. The stone congregation began to move, breaking free, mouths opening in silent screams.

Selena raised her halberd. "Finally."

"Wait," I said.

The Scabbard Priest stepped down from the altar. Every movement rang like iron drawn from a forge. His voice deepened, splitting into dozens. "You killed Crowmere. You defiled the bells. You think you can carry silence here? Then drown in prayer."

The pews burst. Figures stumbled free—hundreds of stone-flesh knights, their armor cracking, their eyes glowing with silver fire. They filled the hall like a tide. The air shook with their voiceless cries.

"Target count: two hundred eighty-seven," Noa reported. "Hostile. Strategy?"

I grinned. "Simple. Break them."

The first wave came like a wall. Shields locked, spears forward, glowing with the priest's light. They moved in unison, too perfect for mortals.

"Selena!" I barked.

She slammed her halberd to the ground. Frost exploded outward.

[ABSOLUTE ZERO DOMAIN]

Air froze. Stone cracked. The front line slowed, ice crawling up their legs. Selena's eyes burned blue as she spun her halberd, the hooks of frost lashing out, pulling knights apart joint by joint.

"Rena!"

She blurred forward, twin blades carving black arcs.

[HELL GATE]

Dark fire wrapped her swords, each slash severing armor, cutting souls as easily as flesh. She tore through three knights at once, their bodies collapsing into shards of stone.

Nana roared, shield high. She charged headlong into the wall, smashing aside spears.

[GUARD BREAK]

Her shield slammed into a knight's face, snapping his helm. She followed with a radiant slash, slicing through tendons. Blood—gray and silver—splattered the pews.

Malrik crouched low, runes glowing at his fingertips.

[HELL MAW]

The floor opened beneath the second line. Dozens of knights fell screaming, their bodies crushed in jaws of black flame. When the rift closed, only armor and bones remained.

Clarissa flowed between them, hands glowing with cold blood. She pressed vials to wounds, sealing demon flesh, then turned her teeth on a knight's throat. One bite, three seconds, and he withered, soul drained into her tongue.

Nysha flickered through shadows, garroting commanders, leaving them as obstacles for their own men. Every time she vanished, another knight fell, throat cut, eyes wide.

The hall became a slaughterhouse.

But the priest only walked forward, step by step, silver veins burning brighter. The sword in his chest pulsed, and every knight shattered into dust—only to rise again, re-forming from the stone of the cathedral. They could not die.

Noa's voice sharpened. "They are constructs. Infinite loop. Source: priest's core. Solution: extraction."

"Then we cut him open," I growled.

I surged forward. My gauntlet burned rainbow-black, the Silent Crown unfolding.

[BLACK MOON DRIVE]

I smashed through the wall of knights, each punch dissolving stone and light. They crumbled, but more replaced them. I reached the priest in a storm of rubble.

His sword flared. He swung his hand—and the blade inside his chest moved with him. Silver light cut the air.

[DIVINE ARC]

It struck my Crown. The dome screamed. Cracks spread.

"Integrity minus twelve percent," Noa hissed. "Do not let him strike again!"

I countered with a fist to his ribs. The impact rang like hitting a bell. He staggered but did not fall. The sword's light anchored him.

"You cannot touch me," he said, voices overlapping. "I am oath. I am chain. I am prayer given flesh."

"Then break," I snarled.

I slammed my gauntlet into his chest, directly over the sword. The Void roared, eating at the silver veins. Sparks flew as light and silence warred. The priest screamed—not in one voice but in hundreds, every throat of every worshipper chained to him.

The cathedral shook. Statues cracked. Bells rang without hands.

Behind me, my demons fought in a storm of blood and stone. Selena's ice split pews, Rena's blades carved trails of shadow, Nana's shield smashed skulls. Malrik's rift swallowed ranks, Clarissa's blood kept the line alive, Nysha's garrotes silenced captains. But still, the knights re-formed, endless.

Only the priest mattered.

"Noa!" I barked.

"Containment pattern—ready," Noa replied. "On your command, My Lord."

The priest raised both hands. The sword flared like a sun, its tip pressing against my ribs from inside his body. Light seared my flesh, trying to cut me apart.

I leaned in, forehead to his, voice low. "I've cut suns before."

I shouted. "NOW!"

Noa flared. The gauntlet's gems lit, seven colors chained by black.

[VOID SEAL]

The Silent Crown snapped shut around the priest's chest, locking the sword inside. Light screamed, bending, folding, crushed by silence. The veins on his body burst, silver blood spraying across the altar.

The priest convulsed, gasping. "Y-you… will unmake—"

I drove my fist through his chest.

Bone shattered. Flesh tore. My gauntlet wrapped the hilt of the sword buried in him. It burned, but the Void held.

I pulled.

The Scabbard Priest's body split open. His voices cut into silence. The sword screamed—not metal, but soul. A blade of pure moonlight, dripping silver fire, came free in my hand.

The constructs collapsed into dust. The hall fell quiet.

I held the blade up. Its glow fought my darkness, but the gauntlet bound it, dimming its fury. Noa's voice was calm, steady. "Acquisition complete. Holy relic neutralized, My Lord."

I looked down at the priest's corpse, broken around the altar, silver blood soaking the stone. His eyes were empty now. Empty and silent.

Selena approached, halberd on her shoulder. She licked blood from her lip. "So. We keep it?"

"For now," I said.

Rena bowed, blades lowered. "Then one cathedral has fallen."

"Not the last," I whispered. The sword pulsed in my grip. My gauntlet pulsed back. Silence and light struggled in my hand.

And I smiled.