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

Beneath their masks, their breath caught in their throats.

His hand gripping the weapon tightened unconsciously, his knuckles turning slightly white from the force.

Although they maintained absolute silence, they quickly conveyed their shock and disbelief through extremely subtle exchanges of glances and almost imperceptible changes in body posture.

'Demons?!' One gaze was filled with astonished doubt. 'Not just one...it's a settlement!' Another gaze echoed, revealing the same shock. 'How could this place be...? Outside the prime plane...?' Thoughts raced silently.

Unlike Gray and Sita, they didn't know all the secrets of the demon race, but their basic knowledge was enough for them to understand how earth-shattering it was to discover a branch of the demon race that lived independently far from the main plane. This completely overturned their understanding of the current state of the demon race.

Gray's deep gaze lingered on the peaceful yet bustling demon village for a long time.

Sita and Aita stood on either side, holding their breath and waiting for his decision.

The silence of the lower-ranking waiters hidden in the distance only served to accentuate the somber atmosphere.

He slowly raised his right hand and reached for the edge of his heavy hood.

"It's been a long time... I should say I've never shown myself like this before."

laugh--

A soft rustling sound of fabric.

The wide hood, which seemed to devour all light, was slowly pulled back.

The first thing revealed was a head of shoulder-length hair, as flowing as the dark night, with strong and shiny strands, interspersed with a few silver strands, like stardust adorning the night sky.

Then came the sharply defined forehead, seemingly sculpted from the oldest obsidian, and the two majestic, powerful, and backward-stretching jet-black horns on either side of the forehead.

The texture of the demon horn is like the hardest black iron, with intricate and ancient dark gold demonic patterns naturally engraved on it, faintly flowing with indescribable power and majesty.

Gray deliberately concealed his demon horns, but naturally, he could also reveal them, openly displaying his demonic identity.

He planned to first make contact with the local demon residents under the guise of a demon.

"Wait here." Gray's deep voice rang out, less ethereal than usual, and more solid and real.

He did not unleash his power, but instead concealed all his hidden strength, revealing himself in his most essential demonic form.

He started walking, no longer concealing his whereabouts, and calmly walked towards the village across the lush green grass.

Sita and Aita stayed where they were told, but their bodies were slightly tense, ready to deal with any unexpected situation at any time.

At the edge of the village, the few busy demon youths were the first to notice the figure that was walking from the edge of the forest, exuding a chilling aura.

"Who?!" A young man suddenly looked up, his tools falling to the ground with a crisp sound. He stared in horror at Gray's horns and face, which clearly belonged to the demon race but exuded unimaginable majesty, and the presence that made people afraid to look directly at him even when his eyes were closed.

"Be...be on guard! There are outsiders!" another young man shouted in a trembling voice, instinctively tightening his grip on the wooden mallet, but his body trembled slightly due to the pressure deep within his bloodline.

Their exclamations immediately caused a commotion in the village. The demons who were working stopped what they were doing and looked over nervously.

The children were quickly pulled back to the adults' side and hidden behind the house, only peeking out their little heads, looking on with a mixture of fear and curiosity.

The old man who had been hammering the metal sheet stood up, his cloudy but shrewd eyes fixed on Gray, his face filled with shock and vigilance.

The low, glowing crystal pillars surrounding the village seemed to flicker slightly, but they did not elicit any aggressive response.

Gray stopped about ten steps away from the village's perimeter. He didn't approach any further, giving the other person a sense of security.

“Traveler.” He spoke, his voice calm and deep, yet strangely piercing through the slight commotion, clearly reaching the ears of every demon villager, carrying a soothing power, yet leaving no room for doubt. “You come from afar, with no ill intentions.”

His gaze swept over the tense faces and all sorts of horns, and he slowly added, his tone carrying a perfectly timed, as if accidental surprise: "I never expected that in this secluded place, I would meet compatriots who share the same noble blood."

"Compatriots?" The old man stepped forward, blocking the young people. His voice was old but powerful, and his eyes were full of scrutiny and doubt. "You said...compatriots? Who...who are you? Where do you come from? Why do you...your horns..." He couldn't describe the feeling accurately, but the oppressive feeling brought by the black iron and gold demonic horns was real, far exceeding any of his kind he had ever seen.

“Grey Brandt, the surname can be omitted,” Grey replied, “from a world… completely different from this place, called the ‘Primeval.’ As for these horns,” he tilted his head slightly, letting the majestic demonic horns reveal ancient patterns in the light, “they are inherited from our bloodline and manifested by our rank. It seems that our two lineages have been separated for a long time, so much so that our physical appearances have changed.”

After hearing Gray's words...

The old man who had been staring intently at him suddenly flashed an incredulous light in his cloudy eyes.

His withered lips trembled violently as he stared intently at Gray's horn, at the ancient patterns, feeling the call and pressure emanating from the very source of life.

“This…this horn…this pattern…this aura…” he murmured to himself, his voice hoarse like a broken bellows, filled with extreme shock.

A fragment of memory, buried deep within the tribe's ancient legends and almost considered a myth, struck his mind like lightning—about the shape of the demon horns, about the supreme runes, about the absolute majesty that exists only in the bloodline of origin and is enough to make all demons submit.

"Pfft!"

Without any hesitation, the old man abruptly pushed away the young man who was helping him, and prostrated himself deeply in the direction of Gray with utmost piety and excitement.

His forehead pressed tightly against the warm, damp grass, his body trembling violently with excitement. With all his might, he let out a hoarse yet incredibly clear, tearful cry:

"Your Majesty the Demon King! Is it you?! The ancient covenant and bloodline are calling! This oppressive aura... there is no mistake! I pay my respects to Your Majesty the Demon King!"

The old man's actions and shouts were like thunderclaps, resounding in the hearts of every bewildered villager.

Although the young demons may not fully understand the details of the legend, their instinctive awe of the supreme being, which comes from the depths of their blood, has been completely awakened, and the old man's confirmation has shattered the last trace of doubt.

"Your Majesty the Demon King?" "The legend is true?!" "Greetings, Your Majesty the Demon King!"

After gasps and incredulous murmurs came a continuous, surging tide of kneeling.