Chapter Four: Nothing to Worry About

Carlos was shocked. The blood in his veins was clearly that of the Winter Moon, passed down from the ancient Winter Moon legacy of his own Stevenson family. How had it become, in the eyes of this demon Enzo, a bloodline of the Summer Moon? As for being some “son of demon,” Carlos was even more at a loss. He had never heard of such a thing before.

Carlos frowned, feeling uneasy as he pondered. Still, there was one thing he was certain of—he had absolutely no desire to be a guest in the abyssal depths of the demon world.

“Um, does the guest have the right to refuse the invitation?” Carlos asked tentatively.

However, the two demons before him seemed to be exceptionally hospitable. To Carlos’s naive question, they gave no response whatsoever. Since the guest was so pure and innocent, they assumed he would not resist entering the abyssal world, nor would he do anything as foolish as taking his own life out of despair.

This was the ideal guest, and thus valuable merchandise.

The two demons, having dropped their earlier quarrel, grew even more enthusiastic as they conspired together, discussing how to extract the greatest benefit from their prize.

“Perhaps Lord Enzo will be promoted to the Abyssal Council, and the D-Series Demon Army will be under my sole command,” the succubus flattered, voicing her thoughts to Commander D.

As for Carlos’s question, she didn’t even spare it a frown; her gaze drifted from Carlos to the armor on Enzo’s shoulder. She watched the tar bubble and burst with a pop, flowing down the armor in viscous streams, her enchanting eyes fixed on the tar as though worried its rich color might fade.

Commander D was noncommittal to Alice’s seductive voice.

Zorn, however, harbored greater ambitions. His lips parted once more, revealing his signature smile—teeth as white and orderly as polished steel. “As long as I can enter the Abyssal Council, the D-Series Demon Legion will begin its advance to the surface. Haven’t you had enough of that filthy underworld, Miss Alice?”

The alluring succubus paused for a moment. Indeed, in history, it was rare for abyssal demons to invade and then remain long on the surface. The reasons were uncertain, but even the mere thought of it was exhilarating.

It was an intoxicating proposition.

Carlos listened quietly from the side, feeling a chill at the mad ambition burning in the young demon's eyes. Yet this also seemed to confirm another thing: to allow such a demon commander to ascend to an even higher echelon of demonic power, his own existence must truly be extraordinary.

“So, I really am important!” Carlos thought, vexed. This meant he was likely to remain a coveted prize in the eyes of demons for the rest of his life—a fate no one would desire. No one wanted to be someone else's cake.

As Carlos mulled over his predicament, the demons seemed to have reached a decision. Their conspiratorial expressions and the bright, greedy glimmers in their eyes as they fixed their gaze on him made it clear—they had struck a deal that would benefit them both.

“The joy of a successful bargain,” Carlos mused. “That must be a wonderful feeling!”

Suddenly, he found himself genuinely happy for them. “No time like the present, shouldn’t we set off soon?” he suggested earnestly.

A lamb hurrying to the slaughter—such a tempting suggestion was swiftly accepted by the two demon leaders.

Soon after, the Observer airship, controlled by the D-Series Abyssal Demon Army, began its engine sequence. The entrance to the abyss lay beneath the ruins outside Xilin City, in the East Cyprus Administrative District. The hundred-strong demon legion was eager to return the way they had come.

The transition of the massive steam airship from idle to full speed required a tedious preheating process, especially for the aged Observer model. The flight steam turbines took even longer to warm up.

The airship’s steam valves were opened, and the huge gears and axles groaned and creaked as they began to turn, the turbines spinning up and accelerating. Soon, thick black smoke poured from the rear of the vessel.

Carlos noticed the airship’s noisy commotion, and felt the gentle vibration of his pocket watch in his cuff. He relaxed completely. There was nothing left to worry about.

—

The thick smoke quickly drew the attention of Saltwell Town’s residents. Many watched in curiosity as black plumes drifted from the outskirts.

The mayor of Saltwell Town, Morrie Stevenson, stepped out from his villa and saw the rolling smoke as well. He placed his black top hat on his head, his eyes narrowing sharply beneath the brim, hawk-like and piercing.

The iron gate of the Augusta family, guardians of the steamworks, was being pounded with heavy blows. Augusta, his face smudged with oily soot, emerged from the house wielding a large wrench, his expression unfriendly as he approached the gate.

“Mayor,” the burly man said bluntly, fixing the visitor with a frank stare, “your dwarf overseers will carry my orders to you. Just a few black hats and hunters—is it really so urgent?”

From the other side of the gate, Morrie Stevenson replied grimly, “It needn’t be urgent, but, Augusta, I’m not here to ask your help this time. I’m here to deliver an order. Demons have been spotted in the woods outside town. By authority of the East Cyprus Administrative District, I order you and your local Steam Guardians to join me in battle!”

“A mayor is hardly an official. You’ll need a written request to the Xilin City administrator,” Augusta retorted carelessly.

“Is that so? I suspect Xilin City has already fallen to the demon army—you know it as well as I do. Besides, your son and mine seem to be at the scene,” Morrie added.

“Is this latest demon invasion after your precious son again?” Augusta’s brow knitted, a sudden realization dawning as he stared hard into Morrie Stevenson’s eyes. “Was that minor fault with the steam engine your plan? To get my son away from my sight, tied together with yours, is that it? Did you foresee all this?”

Morrie did not look away, his tone calm. “Don’t you know how valuable my son is?”

Augusta grumbled, “So my son’s nothing but a stepchild to you, is he?”

“That’s not for me to say.”

Augusta glared at Morrie in frustration, then turned his gaze to the smoky horizon in the east. “And the Observer? Did you summon it?”

Morrie shook his head thoughtfully. “Perhaps it’s a coincidence. Still, something’s not right; that airship shouldn’t be preheating there.”

He adjusted the brim of his black hat, making it sit more squarely.

“Then why didn’t you say so earlier? Damn country bumpkin’s trying to make a run for it,” Augusta growled, shooting Morrie a fierce look.

Without another word, Augusta flung open the gate, tossed his oversized wrench into the overgrown yard, and strode toward the steam valve house, which was rumbling loudly. Morrie Stevenson, meanwhile, allowed a victor’s smile to play on his lips as he followed behind.