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Late at night, inside the command tent of the forward base, an emergency meeting was in progress.
"...So, if I understand this correctly, you're saying you intend to become a Demon King?" Zerath, the commander of the vanguard, asked in a voice low with disbelief.
The meeting had only two sides present. There was Caron's party and Commander Zerath himself.
Caron casually waved his hand as he took a long, refreshing gulp from the liquor in front of him. He replied, "Become a Demon King? Come now, Sir Zerath, what do you take me for? I'm just saying we should use every tool at our disposal. If we take one more fortress, things will be a whole lot easier, don't you think?"
Zerath frowned slightly and replied, "I still find it hard to believe you can control the demons."
"Ordinary men can't," Caron said bluntly. "But—though it feels strange to say this myself—I'm no ordinary man."
Then he leaned back and let his fingers brush against Guillotine resting on the table, nodding faintly. He thought, I never thought absorbing the power of Slaughter would come back to me in a way like this.
Back in the Neon Kingdom, Caron had devoured half of that power and made it his own. Simply possessing it granted overwhelming influence over demons. Without Dennis' insight, Caron would perhaps never have noticed—but...
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