The Adventures of an Overpowered Knight in Another World Chapter 584- Gathering of the Heavenly Kings

"Those idiots never pondered the true purpose behind crafting this underground realm. The prison that once bound me and my kin shall bring their downfall this very day. I owe gratitude to the kingdom overhead, and I trust they’ll relish my present."

He raised one finger and snapped it crisply.

At once, every demon assumed battle stances, radiating savage ferocity.

"The count remains insufficient. Over a hundred thousand demons lie sealed here, their essences lingering undissipated. It appears I must supplement the forces from the surface above."

Astaroth declared, evidently displeased with the tally.

"Yet, I must express thanks to these humans for disseminating such profound negativity throughout this netherworld. The rampant sorrow, demise, and torment have amplified our strength. Owing to that, my revival accelerated remarkably."

Feeling elated, he shifted his gaze toward the final survivors. Without uttering a word, he elevated his hands as though bestowing redemption.

A deluge of shadowy fog erupted from his form, distinct from the weak vapors of the walkers—this was unadulterated, dense, syrupy power that blackened the very ground.

Resembling pitch dragged from the void between realms. It surged forth instantly, engulfing the survivors clustered by the elevator.

Screams erupted as their bodies twisted in torment. Yet prolonged suffering eluded them.

The fog infiltrated via mouths, nostrils, eyes, and skin, consuming muscle and bone without mercy.

As the darkness withdrew, humans no longer remained—instead, walkers poised for demonic evolution stood ready.

On March 3rd of New Valdonian Year 126, the Eighth Heavenly King alongside hundreds of thousands of demons shattered their confinement within one of the Great Demon Prisons.

Indeed, the underground domain dubbed Hollow Earth by Lunaris citizens was actually a Great Demon Prison erected by the Second Arcanists in antiquity’s golden age of civilization.

Presently, though, it transformed into a infernal stronghold teeming with demons and countless more awaiting rebirth.

"Rise."

Astaroth extended his arms modestly.

The void behind him roiled violently.

In unison, the horde of freshly spawned demons ascended.

Level Two of Hollow Earth ceased being a mere prison.

It became a cradle.

Poised to unleash true infernal chaos upon the world.

.

.

Simultaneously...

High above Hollow Earth, in the Kingdom of Lunaris’s core, the Royal Palace epitomized opulence and masterful design.

Adorned in radiant gold and crystalline glows, it embodied the elite’s hoarding of riches.

A doctrine embraced by the whole realm.

Within the grand audience chamber, Lunaris’s King presided over the council table, engaged in fervent debate with his advisors.

Abruptly, the chamber doors swung open sans permission.

A towering silhouette entered.

Clad in silvery-white armor, a deep indigo cloak, and a longsword sheathed at his side, he emanated a controlled yet immense presence.

Ashen-gray hair framed his chiseled, stern visage, etched by decades of rigorous training.

This was Sir Giacomo, the Level 10 Knight—one of Lunaris’s three Paragons, a mortal martial apex.

Sir Giacomo’s steely gray gaze swept the hall before locking onto the king.

"That concludes the session. All of you, dismissed."

After the ministers departed, leaving them solitary, the King of Lunaris eyed the knight, his plump cheeks betraying evident irritation.

"To barge into a royal council without notice, this matter must be grave, yes?"

"Your Majesty." Giacomo dropped to one knee. "Level Two of Hollow Earth has endured a devastating breach."

"What?!"

The king went rigid, unprepared for such ominous tidings.

"A surging demonic presence plagues the depths. Ex-slaves have mutated. Their ranks swell enormously."

"How enormous?"

Giacomo hesitated briefly, reviewing his gathered reports.

"Likely tens of thousands strong."

Icy hush descended upon the chamber the instant those words landed.

The knight’s revelation bore such weight that it shattered the obese ruler’s, the king’s poise.

"Impossible. Hollow Earth stands sealed tight. What of the guards?"

Designed against slave uprisings, Hollow Earth prompted no immediate panic from the king. He trusted the guards’ prowess to quell it.

Yet the knight’s reply dashed such hopes.

"They’ve been utterly overrun. Knight orders dispatched to block the demonic swarm. But prospects appear dire."

"H-How did this occur?"

Giacomo offered no explanation. The demonic flood erupted from Level Two without prelude—no prior stirrings or demon sightings from border watches.

"What are the other two doing? Dispatch the remaining two Paragons to block the demonic horde. Pass on my orders to them. They must use their knight orders to halt the demonic force at the key choke points, stopping them from climbing up from the Hollow Earth."

Anxiety gripped the king as he started pacing back and forth.

Demonic armies were storming into his realm, emerging shockingly from the Hollow Earth itself.

This blow struck him hard, catching him completely off guard.

"I've already notified those two; they've departed to confront the foe. Your Majesty, you need to ready the evacuation measures. Should containment break, the palace could turn into a prime objective. We can't count on the breach staying contained."

A short withdrawal, eh? That idea appealed to him.

As the ruler of this domain, he held the utmost importance. With his survival assured, the kingdom could be reborn.

The capital might get rebuilt, slaves repurchased, fortunes rebuilt. Yet no corpse of a king could achieve that.

Prioritizing his own protection was the clear decision. The populace? Mere pawns to sacrifice.

"You're correct. Arrange all required steps for my departure. Handle it in complete secrecy. Panic must not erupt across the capital."

Without a moment's delay, the king issued his directive.

Giacomo lowered his head in respect.

"It shall be carried out."

Turning sharply, he left the room to organize everything.

While departing, his mind turned to a certain individual—the demi-human female he had escorted to Lunaris roughly a year prior.

Her unyielding resistance, her unbreakable will despite the slave runes etched upon her, impressed him greatly.

Not to mention the extraordinary burst of strength she unleashed, effortlessly repelling a strike from his Level 8 knight lieutenant.

That event etched itself profoundly into his memory.

He felt certain she carried a rare bloodline even among her kind—one that could sustain the king's rule post-evacuation.

Deep down, Giacomo remained a devoted knight to the king first, the kingdom second, unwaveringly so.

He weighed every scenario, including the capital's possible collapse and the imperative to preserve the royal bloodline.

.

.

Level Two was now beyond recognition.

The former industrial hellhole, choked with poisonous fumes and endless toil, had morphed into a fortress of shadows and fiends.

Additional knights and soldiers had poured into Level Two to seal the rupture, but the demons flipped the battle against them.

Bursts of abilities and sword strikes ripped across the vast underground expanse.

Yet for each demon slain, three others emerged to take its spot.

The shadows and malice devoured the defenders, spawning fresh demons. Strength disparity played a role too.

If the guards had picked another spot for their stand, the outcome might not have been so lopsided.

But this was the Hollow Earth.

A realm echoing with agonized cries for generations.

Betrayal's rage, death's maledictions.

It brimmed with intense malice—a fuel demons feasted upon.

What had been their old Great Prison seal now served as perfect territory for them.

Atop the highest garrison spire, enthroned on a seat of twisting shadows, perched the mastermind behind this uprising.

Astaroth, Eighth Heavenly King, reclined casually, leg draped over the other, elbow on the rest, chin nestled in his fist.

His intense scarlet gaze bored upward through the roof, observing humanity's plots and maneuvers.

Those fools thought they controlled the bottlenecks, that they could trap him below. How utterly mistaken they were.

Quiet mirth sparkled in Astaroth's scarlet eyes.

"Naïve."

Each fallen knight or guard merely swelled their ranks. Every demise and wail amplified the dark energy swirling here.

Amid the swirling murk's core, heaps of corpses towered in piles, each birthing a cocoon from its peak.

These pods throbbed with eerie crimson glows, pulsing like living hearts.

Any witness to this horror would shudder in terror and dread. The entities inside those pods must never hatch.