The maid squad is too strong, what use is there for me, the Demon King?

After clearing everything away... there was only one eighth-tier professional left lying on the ground, barely alive. Gray knew that this professional was definitely at the bishop level.

It was on its last legs, but still had a glimmer of hope.

Given the recovery ability of an eighth-tier professional, even a magic-based professional with relatively weak recovery ability would be able to recover quickly and become energetic again if left unattended for a period of time.

"Cut the weeds and eliminate the roots... although the real 'root' is the demon still imprisoned in the Netherworld Prison..."

He then unleashed a magical slash, splitting the bishop in two.

Elder Baturu's massive rocky body remained kneeling on the ground, its cracked form trembling slightly.

His molten lava-like pupils had lost all boiling rage, leaving only pure, almost stunned shock.

He stared intently at the fan-shaped crater—its edges were smooth as a mirror, its depths unfathomable, and the glassy luster of its walls shimmered with a cold light under the dust-filled shadows.

That was power! A power that completely transcended rocks, the earth, and even the level of life he understood!

He guarded Shad Mountain for centuries, proclaiming himself the embodiment of rock and the protector of the earth.

But at this moment, his prized lava barrier probably couldn't even be delayed for a moment by that casual slash.

A profound sense of loss stemming from the fundamental disparity in power and a worldview-shattering shock caused even his rock-solid soul to tremble.

His Adam's apple bobbed, as if he wanted to say something, but he only made a dull "ho...ho..." sound like rocks rubbing together, which eventually turned into an extremely heavy sigh. His lava-like gaze lowered and fell back onto his cracked, rocky arms, filled with a sense of powerlessness.

Elder Gomur felt as if he had been struck by an invisible hammer, his obsidian claws trembling slightly as he leaned on the ground.

He forgot to wipe the bloodstains from the corner of his mouth, and his face, which was always full of sharp killing intent, now only showed undisguised horror and loss of composure.

He watched as those cultists, along with the ground beneath their feet, silently turned to dust and vanished into nothingness, like phantoms.

That wasn't destruction, that was erasure, a realm that even his "Star-Shattering Claws," no matter how sharp, could never reach.

He subconsciously glanced at his prized, space-tearing, purplish-red claws, then abruptly looked at the Shadow Master's hand hidden within his wide sleeves, a chill running down his spine to the top of his head. He was never afraid of powerful enemies, but the power displayed by this black-robed man before him had transcended the realm of "enemy," more like... divine punishment roaming the mortal realm.

He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing, and finally managed to squeeze out a dry, deeply awe-inspiring whisper: "This... is this the power of the Shadow Court?"

In stark contrast to the violent reactions of the two orc elders, the two men in black robes remained calm, their calm stemming from a deep-seated faith and a sense of entitlement.

Although the black-robed man with the cat tail was still gasping slightly due to the burns on his ribs and arms, his dark purple vertical pupils were now burning with an almost pilgrimage-like fanaticism.

She even straightened her back, as if the pain on her body had become a badge of honor.

She looked at the giant fan-shaped crater and the drifting dust (which might still contain traces of her previous battles), her face showing no surprise, only a sense of pride and satisfaction that "it should be this way."

The fluffy orange cat tail was held high, its tip swaying gently with pleasure, as if silently proclaiming: Look, this is our master! This is the supreme power of Lord Shadow!

She even slightly raised her chin towards the direction of the film's protagonist, her delicate yet scarred face beneath the hood filled with a sense of pride and reverence.

To her, the Demon Lord's intervention to annihilate these blasphemous dusts was as natural as the rising and setting of the sun and moon, and was the most direct manifestation of her faith.

The silent girl's reaction was more restrained, yet it also exemplified absolute faith.

Her gaze, beneath her hood, calmly swept over the fan-shaped area that had been instantly cleared, as if inspecting a territory that had been cleaned by its owner.

She gently straightened the edges of her wide sleeves, which were slightly disheveled from the previous battle, with elegant and composed movements.

Their gazes toward the Shadow Lord were filled with unspoken absolute trust and devout submission. Their eyes seemed to say: "The Shadow Lord's actions are justified; we only need to await his decree."

To her, that earth-shattering slash was merely a natural manifestation of the tip of the iceberg of her master's power, a necessary step to clean house, and a truth that had been proven countless times on the path of faith. Why be surprised?

However, the other black-robed attendants did not react as calmly as the two Ten Shadow Attendants.

Half of these waitresses were led by Aita and had been stationed in Shadmont for a long time, while the other half were brought over by Sita as reinforcements.

The latter half of the team were more worldly-wise. Most of them had participated in the battle against the Golden Weasel Merchant Guild (a cult of greed and avarice), and had seen some of Grey—their Supreme Leader—in action. They knew that this Supreme Leader was not just a trivial slogan.

Few of the servants who had been stationed in the Shadmont Orc Kingdom for a long time had ever seen their Shadow Lord, let alone witnessed him in action.

It's nothing, didn't we see it today?

They were simply unable to shake off their stunned and shocked state for the time being.

Gray released his mental energy, resisting the unknown barrier to mental energy within the valley while surveying the surrounding area.

There was still a considerable amount of life, but there were no more cultists; all of them were orcs and Soul Scorpions underground that hadn't been affected by Gray's attack.

However, when the cultists of the Flame and Destruction faction were wiped out, the Scorching Scorpion broke free from their secret techniques. (It's unclear whether the cultists possessed some secret method to control the Scorching Scorpion, or whether the Scorching Scorpion and the cultists were both followers of the Flame and Destruction demon Feuerbalu and thus acted together.)

In short, after the cultists were all dead, these Soul-Burning Scorpions fled even deeper underground, and Gray didn't want to destroy the valley's terrain just to kill off these little scorpions.

He could control the impact of the magic burst on the valley to a minimum by minimizing the explosive force, avoiding shattering rocks and the ground as much as possible. However, he couldn't completely pulverize the Soul-Scorching Scorpions deep underground without damaging the surrounding ground.

Nearby is also the Blood Spring, on which the orc race depends for survival.

Although it has been damaged by cultists, it is still usable, but the purity and quality of the blood spring are not as good as before.

The orcs won, eliminating all the cultists with the help of the Shadow Court, but at a great cost.

This can only be described as a lose-lose situation...