Four days had passed since they left Belphegor Palace.
The carriage sped through the forest towards the Beelzebub Kingdom. Inside, Leon sat across from Feyar, the elven prince with a friendly smile that was too perfect. Outside the window, trees gave way to shrubs, then barren grasslands. The closer they got to the Beelzebub border, the bleaker the scenery became.
"You seem restless, Leon," Feyar said, breaking the silence.
Leon looked away from the window. "It's nothing, just thinking about this mission."
Feyar smiled. The same smile since they first met. "I wonder why my father is so interested in you. I suppose I am too, for the same reasons."
Leon frowned. "What do you mean?"
Feyar leaned back, his eyes narrowing. "There are many stories behind the royal curtains. About forbidden powers, about... those who should have died."
Leon felt something. Not a threat, but... caution.
"He's not what he seems, boy," Satan whispered. "Be careful."
Leon nodded slightly but didn't respond. His hand unconsciously touched the pendant on his neck. Still warm. Still connected. For some reason, he had been doing that often today.
Feyar looked at the pendant, his eyes glinting. "Beautiful pendant. Who is it from?"
Leon withdrew his hand. "From someone."
Feyar chuckled softly. "A secret, then? Very well, I won't force you."
---
The carriage stopped a few hours later. Before them stood a towering black iron gate carved with skulls. The border of the Beelzebub Kingdom.
"Routine inspection," one of the elf soldiers said. "We just need to show the permit—"
"Stop."
Leon cut in. His voice was low, tense. His eyes swept the surroundings—the trees too dense, the small hills too symmetrical, the silence too perfect.
"We're surrounded," Satan whispered.
Leon closed his eyes. His soul detection activated. Behind the trees, behind the hills, behind the gate itself—hundreds. No, thousands. They had been surrounded from the start.
"Feyar," Leon whispered. "This is a trap."
Feyar raised an eyebrow. "What—"
The ground beneath them shook.
Not an ordinary tremor. This was magic. Grand magic. Leon felt a teleportation circle igniting beneath their feet—too large, too fast to stop.
"LEON!" one of the elf soldiers shouted.
But it was too late.
The world spun. Forest turned to desert. Trees vanished, replaced by sand dunes stretching as far as the eye could see. The wind roared, carrying stinging hot grains of sand.
Leon fell to his knees, his hands digging into the sand. Around him, the two elf soldiers and Feyar also collapsed. And outside their circle—
Soldiers. Hundreds of Beelzebub warriors with drawn swords. Arrows nocked and ready. And before them all, a figure stepped forward.
Flame-red hair like fire. A flaming sword in his hand. His smile—a smile Leon knew all too well.
Dyno Beelzebub.
"HAHAHA! So the trash like Leon that I thought was dead is actually still alive? And now he's become an enemy I have to clean up?"
Leon stood, brushing the sand from his clothes. His face was expressionless, but inside his chest, his blood boiled.
"Trash?" he repeated quietly.
Dyno laughed. "Do you remember, boy? When you cried in front of everyone? When you begged not to be beaten again?" He stepped closer. "I'm surprised you're still alive. But oh well, what difference does it make? In the end, you'll just die a second time."
"You know him?" Satan whispered.
Leon didn't answer. But in his heart, one name surfaced. One of the many faces that darkened his past.
"Prince Dyno Beelzebub. One of those who made me what I am."
Dyno raised his sword. The flames on its blade burned brighter. "Kill them all!"
But before the first soldier could move—
"Forgive me, Prince Dyno."
All eyes turned to Feyar. The elven prince smiled—not the friendly smile he usually showed, but a different smile. The smile of someone who already knew how this story would end.
He walked. Away from Leon. Towards the Beelzebub ranks.
Leon wasn't surprised.
"Finally," Satan whispered.
Feyar stopped beside Dyno, looking at Leon with a gaze that was once—before his mask fell. "Sorry, Leon. It's nothing personal. Just... a greater purpose."
Leon sighed. "I know."
Feyar blinked. "You know?"
Leon smiled faintly. "From the beginning."
A flash appeared in his mind. Not precognition—just memory. When he saw Feyar leaving King Aerion's room with a terrified face. When he checked and found the elf king dead, a poisoned dagger still embedded in his chest. When he reported to Zephyr, and Zephyr only said, "Let him play his role. Let's see how far he's willing to go."
"Your father, King Aerion, died by your hand, didn't he, Feyar?" Leon said, his voice flat. "Or at least, by your command."
Feyar's expression changed. For the first time, his smile faded.
"I've known since the beginning you were a traitor," Leon continued. "But I needed to know who was behind you."
Feyar fell silent. His eyes, once full of triumph, now darkened. "You're smarter than I thought."
Dyno, who had grown impatient, growled. "Enough nonsense! Just kill him—"
WHOOSH!
Leon vanished.
Dyno's eyes widened. Before he could react, Leon was in front of him. One punch—hard, clean, straight to the solar plexus.
Dyno flew back, tumbling across the sand. His flaming sword flew from his grip, extinguishing as soon as it touched the ground.
Leon didn't stop. With swift movements, he launched a kick at Feyar. Feyar didn't even have time to realize what happened before he collapsed unconscious.
"Prince Dyno!" the soldiers shouted.
But no one dared move. Leon stood among them, his body still in fighting stance.
Dyno rose, coughing blood. His face burned red with shame and rage. "IMPOSSIBLE! YOU—"
Leon stepped forward. One step. Two steps. Dyno retreated, unconsciously. The soldiers behind him retreated too.
Leon raised his hand. Darkness flowed at his fingertips. Ready to destroy.
But his hand stopped.
On his chest, the pendant... was cold.
Not ordinary cold. Cold like loss. Like something warm had suddenly been extinguished. Leon looked down. The moon pendant that had glowed softly since the night of the festival—now dim. Nearly extinguished.
"What..."
"Leon." Satan's voice suddenly serious. "That pendant is connected to Sylvaine."
Leon didn't answer. He already knew.
His hand trembled. The pendant—he could feel it. Not just cold. There was... panic there. Pain. Fear. All mixed into a single vibration piercing his chest.
Sylvaine.
Unconsciously, his soul detection leaped. Not toward the enemies before him, but toward something farther. Deeper. And there—at the edge of a connection nearly severed—he saw.
Sylvaine's face. Pale. Her hair disheveled. Blood trickling down her temple. And behind her, black smoke billowed where Belphegor Palace should have stood.
"Sylvaine..." Leon whispered, his voice barely audible.
Dyno, still stunned, laughed bitterly. "See? Your little kingdom—"
Leon didn't hear. He had already withdrawn his hand. Not out of pity for Dyno, but because... there was no time.
"Return," he whispered. "Now."
Behind him, a spatial rift opened. Valker and Fenrith emerged without being summoned—as if sensing their master's urgency. Valker with his greatsword in hand, Fenrith with fangs and claws ready to strike.
"Protect me," Leon commanded.
His eyes were no longer red with rage. They were empty. Cold. But within that emptiness, there was something more terrifying than anger.
He reached out his hand. Not toward the enemy, but into empty air. The pendant on his chest glowed—once, faintly, like a dying heartbeat.
"To Belphegor Palace."
A spatial rift opened behind them. Valker and Fenrith stood guard around their master as he focused.
Dyno shouted, "STOP HIM!"
But the soldiers were too afraid. They saw Leon—the demon who had once been bait—now standing with an aura that made their knees tremble.
As Leon began stepping into the spatial rift, he caught a glimpse of Feyar lying unconscious in the sand. Dyno still struggling to rise. And in the distance, a cloaked figure beginning to approach from behind the dunes.
But he didn't care.
Only one thing occupied his mind now—the cold pendant. Sylvaine's pale face. And the promise he hadn't yet had the chance to keep.
The light faded. Sand gave way to ruins.
Leon opened his eyes.
The once magnificent Belphegor Palace, with its soaring towers, now lay in ruins.
=== CHAPTER 11 END ===