Leon had just arrived in his room when he immediately sensed something.
The air around him grew heavier, colder. Not like an overt threat, but more like... a presence. Something vast, silent, and watching.
"Someone powerful is here," Satan whispered, his wariness rising. "Not Raiden. This is different. Far different."
Leon tensed. His eyes swept the room. Empty. No one. But his instincts—or perhaps the soul detection he was just beginning to understand—sent danger signals.
From the corner of the room, a shadow moved.
Not an ordinary shadow. It was a shadow that moved like the wind from one wall to another, forming a figure. An old man with a skull-carved staff stepped out from the air itself, as if he could merge with his surroundings.
Leon froze.
The aura radiating from the old man made his knees tremble—not from cowardly fear, but the natural reflex of a weak creature before an apex predator. Cold sweat drenched his temples, though the man hadn't moved an inch.
"So you're Leon Astaroth?"
The voice was deep, authoritative. Like a distant rumble in the mountains. Like the vibration of earth before a landslide.
Leon wanted to answer, but his throat seized. He could only nod.
The old man smiled faintly. Not a friendly smile, but the smile of someone who had lived thousands of years and seen everything—including young demons like Leon.
"The young demon who has my children busy talking about him every day." He stepped closer. Each step felt like a hammer striking Leon's chest.
"Zephyr prioritizes you above kingdom affairs. Sylphine praises you endlessly. And Sylvaine..." he chuckled softly, "...Sylvaine can't stop talking about you."
Leon's eyes widened. "Children? You mean—"
"Father." The voice came from behind the door.
Zephyr entered, his face a mixture of respect and resignation. "Father."
Leon almost choked. "Father? This... this is the former Demon King Belphegor? His Majesty Zephyr, Princess Sylphine, and Princess Sylvaine's father?"
He looked at his son. "Zephyr. You didn't need to come. I only wanted to see him myself."
Zephyr sighed. "Father, he just recovered. Don't—"
"Don't what?" Zar interrupted, his tone rising slightly. "Don't frighten him? Don't test him?" He looked at Leon again. "The power he possesses. I have the right to know how strong he is."
Leon jolted. "My power? What do you mean?"
"He knows," Satan whispered, his tone turning softer.
Zar seemed to hear something. His sharp eyes narrowed towards Leon—or more precisely, towards the within Leon.
"Interesting," he murmured. "He's there too."
Leon almost choked. "He? You mean—"
"Silence," Satan commanded quickly. "Don't answer. Let me handle this."
For the first time, Leon felt the presence within him move. Not just a voice—but like... a shadow awakening. Aware. Alert.
Zar smiled. Not a threatening smile, but a smile of recognition.
"It's been a long time," he said, to whom no one knew.
"I thought you had truly perished."
There was no answer. But Leon felt Satan—silent, tense, calculating.
Zar turned, walking toward the window. "I won't interfere. But I want you to know, Leon Astaroth." He glanced back, his eyes piercing. "There is power within you that even you yourself do not yet understand."
Leon clenched his hands. "I... don't understand what you mean, Your Majesty."
Zar laughed.
He stepped to the corner of the room. The wind greeted him, swirling around his body.
"Zephyr, take care of him. He is more valuable than you think."
And just like that, Zar vanished—the air returning to normal.
Leon collapsed onto the bed. Sweat soaked his entire body. His breath came in gasps, as if he had just run for miles.
Zephyr approached, sitting in a chair near the window. "Sorry. My father is always... dramatic."
Leon tried to steady his breathing. "He... he knows."
"Knows what?"
Leon almost answered, but remembered Satan's words. Don't answer.
"I... don't understand what His Majesty meant," he finally said. "But he knows something about me. Something even I don't know."
Zephyr stared at him for a long time. Then sighed. "My father is one of the oldest demons still alive. He has existed since... since and after the Great War. If he says you possess great power, it's not a metaphor."
Leon was silent.
"But one thing I know." Zephyr stood.
"He wouldn't come just to observe. Something made him curious. And that... could be good, could be bad."
He walked to the door. "Rest, Leon. You need it."
The door closed.
Leon lay back, staring at the ceiling.
"Lord Satan."
Silence.
"Lord Satan?"
Still silence.
Leon waited. One minute. Two minutes. Five minutes.
"I'm here."
The voice was different. Tired. Like after a long battle.
"He... Zar... I know him."
Leon tensed. "What do you mean, Lord?"
"He's one of the grandchildren of my old comrade Belphegor. I never expected him to be this old—last I saw him, he was still a child. It turns out..." Satan paused. "It turns out he became king. Became a father. Started a family."
Leon didn't know what to say.
"He knows I'm here. But he won't tell anyone."
"Are you sure, Lord?"
"Sure." Satan's tone changed, becoming slightly lighter.
Leon wanted to ask more, but exhaustion began to take over. His eyes grew heavy.
"Rest, boy. Tomorrow... you must be ready. Because if Zar has appeared, others might appear too."
Leon nodded inwardly. Slowly, his eyes closed.
Outside the window, the full moon shone brightly. In the distance, from the highest tower peak, a shadowy figure—Zar—still stood, gazing toward Leon's room.
"Still alive, it seems, grandfather Satan," he murmured. "And you chose that boy." He smiled faintly. "Interesting."
He turned, vanishing into the wind.
=== CHAPTER 8 END ===