My SSS-Rank Gluttony Talent: I Can Evolve Limitlessly

He chuckled again, dark and distorted, a sound that made Juer'lo's chest ache just from hearing it. "…But still, it's really annoying… it's what's protecting them. And those fools don't even realise! Haha!"

The high demon clicked his tongue, an ugly, sharp sound that cut through the air. The smoke rippled faintly with the gesture, and the oppressive weight in the air seemed to double.

"It's frustrating," he muttered, almost growling now. "So very frustrating. If not for that cursed interference, the invasion would already be complete. Earth would have been ours."

The red glow of his eyes dimmed, then brightened, like an ember catching fresh air, pulsing with irritation. He continued to mumble under his breath, his voice low and raw, dripping with resentment.

"Damn it all… damn that wretched [Apocalypse]… damn the protections… damn the delays. The others are impatient, why do I have to even deal with this… tsk. Time, time, always time. Always waiting. Always restrained."

It was as if he had completely forgotten about Juer'lo and the other demon kneeling before him. His presence, his words, his malice—they filled every corner of the air, but none of it was directed at them. He was simply venting, lost in his own thoughts, his own fury.

Still, neither Juer'lo nor the one-horned demon dared to move, dared to speak, dared even to breathe louder than the faintest whisper.

They stayed bowed, frozen in place, knowing that one wrong gesture could snap that wandering attention back onto them—and they would not survive it.

If it had been anyone else standing before them, behaving in such a careless, muttering manner—talking to himself as though he had forgotten their presence entirely—they might have laughed.

Yes, they could already picture it clearly: if another demon of equal rank to theirs had stood in that spot mumbling to himself, they would have snickered behind his back.

They would have mocked him mercilessly for being unstable, for sounding like a madman who had lost his way in his own thoughts. Their cruel words would have poured without restraint.

But this wasn't just anyone. This was not some ordinary demon who could be ridiculed or secretly despised. This was a high demon—the difference between them was so vast, so terrifying, that the very thought of mocking him was already akin to suicide.

They dared not even imagine such blasphemy.

They knew their places. They knew their worth—or rather, their worthlessness.

Compared to this being, who stood tall and exuded an aura so dark and suffocating that it felt like it consumed the very light around him, they were less than ants.

They weren't even permitted to think themselves as insects, because insects could at least crawl and move freely.

Before this high demon, their existence meant nothing. One flick of his finger, one careless thought, and they would vanish from existence entirely.

That truth rang louder in their minds than the pounding of their hearts.

The high demon let out another long sigh, one that rolled like thunder through the chamber.

It was soft, so soft, but the moment the sound left his mouth, both Juer'lo and the other demon felt chills run deep into their bones.

Their skin prickled, their stomachs twisted, and they pressed their heads even lower to the ground, as if trying to sink into it.

The sigh carried no intent to kill, no command, no wrath—but that was what made it so terrifying. If just a sigh could do this to them, then what would happen if he became truly displeased?

The high demon's voice suddenly cut through the silence, deep and resonant, echoing through the chamber like the toll of a death knell.

"We had already been making arrangements, though… but then…"

He paused. The words hung heavy in the air.

Then, his tone shifted, sharp and cold, like the edge of a blade drawn across the neck.

"Someone… an insignificant pest dared to obstruct our grand plans."

The effect was immediate. The bodies of both Juer'lo and the other demon shuddered violently, as though lightning had struck them.

Their heads pressed even harder into the ground, their horns scraping against the cold floor until sparks almost seemed to form.

Their hearts thundered so loudly within their chests that they thought they might burst.

Every syllable spoken by the high demon carried weight far beyond what their minds could bear. To think—someone, some thing, had dared to obstruct the grand designs of the high demon?

That thought alone was blasphemous. They trembled, not just in fear of what the high demon might do to the pest who interfered, but in fear of being caught in the storm of his wrath by proximity alone.

The high demon hissed, a low sound that made the ground itself seem to shiver.

"That's what I need you for… uhnn…"

His crimson eyes narrowed as he seemed to strain in recollection.

His gaze drifted lazily over the two demons kneeling before him, as though he was trying to recall which one was which, which insect bore what name. His lips twisted faintly, almost in amusement at his own lack of concern.

"What was it again… your name…?"

Juer'lo's heart leapt into his throat, but he didn't dare raise his head.

"J—"

The high demon's brow furrowed slightly, but then he hissed dismissively, brushing off the matter entirely.

"Never mind. It's of no importance."

His voice was cold, final, uncaring.

"That's what I need you for… two horns."

The words echoed like a decree, resounding in the minds of both kneeling demons.

Juer'lo's whole body trembled as if some invisible current of electricity ran through his veins.

The words—those brief, indifferent syllables from the high demon—had landed like an avalanche inside him.

Even though the high one hadn't bothered to address him by name, hadn't deigned to call him anything but the crude mark of his horns, something ferocious and hungry in Juer'lo roared to life. The raw, animal joy that clawed upward from his chest was almost unbearable.

Tears welled without warning, hot and bright against the pallor of his skin.

He could feel them stinging the corners of his eyes, could feel his lips tremble as an involuntary strangled sound rose in his throat—a sound that wanted to become a roar of triumph more than a sob.

He pressed his forehead harder to the cold floor, not from shame but because he was terrified that if he lifted his head, he might give himself away: the trembling limbs, the shallow, rapid breaths, the way his whole frame shook like a leaf in a bad wind.

He wanted to scream, to throw his arms up to the sky and howl his gratitude at the high demon's casual command, but such an outburst would be madness. Here, composure meant life; hysteria meant death.

The thought that had lodged itself in his chest—small, absurd, and yet absolute—was this: He addressed me. The High Lord addressed me!

Juer'lo's shoulders heaved. He controlled it with a long, measured breath, catching the wild thing that wanted to crawl out of him. He held himself like stone. He had to look like stone. He had to be useful.

The high demon continued, his voice soft and oddly playful in a way that made the hair on the back of Juer'lo's neck stand up.

"I need you to find this obstruction… and bring him to me."

The command was precise, clean, and terrifying in its casualness. The high demon's lips barely moved, and yet the meaning of his words carved itself into Juer'lo's gut like a blade.

Juer'lo barely dared to breathe. He felt those tears gather again, but he swallowed them down. Pride rose like flame—hot and insolent.

This was a mission from the high lord, the kind that could change bones and status and fate.

This was the opening he had waited for a lifetime, the crack through which he could pry his way out of the stagnant, petty politics of the lower echelons.

Even unspoken, the promise had been made: accomplish this, and the high demon's voice had already suggested the reward.

A ripple of amusement spread across the high demon's face. He hummed to himself, a low, almost musical intonation—light and terrifying at once—as though musing on something both abhorrent and entertaining.

"You see, even if these humans aren't truly in the game in their flesh—" he said, tilting his head as though savoring the absurdity of the arrangement, "we have… methods."

The way he said methods made Juer'lo's teeth ache with anticipation. The high demon's next words were said with an air of almost lazy disgust, an undercurrent of malice that made the little hairs along Juer'lo's arms stand on end.

"I just need my hands on him for a month.." the high demon muttered, almost to himself. "Whoever that human is… will die in the real world."

"Besides, that little random's death doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things… if anything, hehe, things will only get more interesting."