DEMON KING'S Love Redemption

Chapter 24

The cultists trembled. They felt a pressure they had never experienced before—a weight that made their ribs creak. Yet, in their fanatical madness, they only grew more ecstatic.

"Yes! That is the aura we have yearned for!" the cult leader screamed. "Destroy us! Destroy this world! Start by slaughtering the woman behind you, my Lord! Show us that you no longer love the light!"

Vann clenched his fists. The ground beneath his boots began to crack and buckle as he unconsciously manipulated the gravity around him. He stole a glance back at Freya, who remained frozen, her dagger still pointed at his back.

"Freya," Vann whispered, his voice softening only for her.

"Whatever you see after this... please remember one thing. I am still the same Vann who won that dragon for you, even if I have to raze this entire city to the ground to do it."

"Vann, what are you—"

Vann didn't wait for an answer. He vaulted off the bridge, plunging into the center of the plaza directly in front of the kneeling zealots. As his boots hit the ground, a shockwave of dark energy swept away the black mist, revealing a crowd of citizens trembling in terror.

Vann stood tall, the silver radiance on his face now clashing with flickers of violet flame dancing through his black hair. He locked eyes with the man in the goat mask, a gaze sharp enough to strike down a dragon on sight.

"You call yourselves my followers?" Vann asked, his voice cold as ice.

"We are your loyal servants until death, Your Majesty!" they shouted in unison.

Vann smirked—a cruel, jagged expression that masked a deep, hidden desperation. "Good. If you truly are my servants, then you should know the one absolute law of my kingdom."

He raised his right hand toward the heavens. Inky clouds swirled over the plaza, blotting out the stars. Violet lightning crackled through the sky, casting an apocalyptic glow over the festival.

"The law is this," Vann paused, his voice booming across every corner of Aethelgard, "anyone who dares to touch or harm the woman I love... will get a taste of hell before they ever set foot there."

Watching from the bridge above, Freya felt her heart hammer against her ribs. That sentence... it was the most terrifyingly honest confession she had ever heard. On one hand, Vann had just admitted to being their master; on the other, he was declaring war on his own people just to keep her safe.

The cult leader looked stunned. "But Your Majesty... she is our enemy! She is the Holy Hero destined to take your life!"

"Then let her!" Vann roared. "But that is between her and me! You lot... are nothing but trash interrupting my date!"

Vann slammed his foot down. "Gravity Domain: Zero."

Instantly, the cultists were yanked into the air, their bodies drifting upward, out of control. Panic erupted as they realized the laws of nature no longer applied in Vann’s presence.

"Vann! Stop!" Freya screamed from the bridge. She saw the sheer terror on the faces of the civilians who were beginning to buckle under the pressure of Vann’s mana. "You will level the whole city if you keep releasing your power!"

Vann stiffened. He looked around. Food stalls were collapsing under the gravitational weight, and children were wailing at the sight of his fury. It hit him then—he had walked right into their trap. They wanted him to reveal the monster inside him right in front of Freya and the rest of the world.

He took a ragged breath, forcing his mana back down. He glanced at the cultists still bobbing in the air, his mind racing. He had to save his reputation. He had to make Freya believe this was all one giant "misunderstanding," even if it was anything but.

Vann looked at Freya, then back at the cultists. A frantic, desperate plan began to take shape—a plan so ridiculous it was his only shot at flipping the narrative in public.

He snatched a wooden staff from the ruins of a nearby stall, brandishing it like a holy relic as he began to "chant" a series of nonsensical spells.

"You foul spirits inhabiting these people!" Vann bellowed, his voice taking on the exaggerated tone of a professional exorcist. "Leave these bodies at once! Do not use my name to justify your wickedness!"

The cultists dangled there, mouths agape. "Your Majesty? What are you saying? We aren’t possessed, we—"

"SILENCE, DEMONS!" Vann snapped his fingers, triggering small concussive blasts in front of their mouths to cut them off.

Vann looked up at Freya, his expression a mask of "heroic concern." "Freya! Look! They have been corrupted by high-level dark magic! They only think I am their leader because the light on my face mimics the artifact they have been searching for! I will... I will 'cure' them right now!"

Freya stood frozen on the bridge, watching the most bizarre performance in the history of magic. She watched as the cultists were battered by invisible gusts of air while Vann continued to scream, "Begone, foul spirits! Back to the abyss with you!"

It was absurd. A man with a glowing face was "exorcising" a group of devil-worshippers who were actually worshipping him, all to convince a girl he was one of the good guys.

Yet, beneath the ridiculous theater, Freya saw the truth. Vann was struggling. He wasn't fighting an enemy; he was fighting his own fate. She saw the beads of cold sweat on his brow and the profound sorrow buried in his crimson eyes.

"Vann..." Freya whispered, slowly lowering her dagger.

Vann kept up the act, hurling the cultists into the river one by one while muttering "incantations" that sounded suspiciously like a grocery list spoken in a sacred cadence.

But just as Vann prepared to toss the cult leader, the man managed to break his silence.

"You cannot outrun your destiny, King Vann!" the man shrieked before hitting the water. "The god of war is coming, and when he arrives, that light standing beside you will be the first to drive a blade through your heart... again!"

Vann went rigid at the word "again." The voice echoed through the plaza, which had fallen silent now that the cultists were gone.

He stood alone amidst the wreckage. The light on his face slowly dimmed, leaving his teenage face looking utterly shattered. He turned slowly toward the bridge.

Freya was still there. She wasn't looking at him with hatred anymore, but with something far more complex—a mixture of affection, doubt, and a dawning fear of the future.

"Vann," she called out softly.

Vann could not meet her eyes. He stared down at his boots. "I... I think that is enough interrogation for one night, Lady Freya. I will take you home."

"Vann, wait."

"I am sorry, Freya," he cut her off. "I am sorry for ruining our date. I am sorry that I... am the reason for all of this."

Vann walked away without waiting for her, leaving the scent of sulfur and linden blossoms hanging in the night air. He knew that despite his frantic exorcism act, the seeds of doubt had taken root in her heart.

High above on a ruined clock tower, Professor Mordred stood watching, scribbling in his journal. "Subject Vann shows high resistance to his original fate. However, interaction with Subject Freya is showing emotional fractures. Commencing Phase Two."