The Adventures of an Overpowered Knight in Another World Chapter 585- Gathering of the Heavenly Kings (2)

Astaroth gazed at the cocoons and grinned.

Suddenly, the space behind him twisted violently. Green and black lights distorted the air, ripping through the spatial weave.

In no time, a portal took shape.

Out of it stepped a figure.

High heels adorned her feet, her frame tall and lithe, wrapped in a dark green coat. Citrine hair framed a stunning face with shadowed eyelids. Her pupils glowed with venom amid black sclera.

Two horns jutted from her head, sweeping back like a regal crown. Both her aura and bearing projected a serene, scheming, lethal charm, reminiscent of a venomous blossom.

Beautiful yet fatal.

Trailing her came another figure with extravagant steps.

Clad in vivid deep crimson and violet shades, bells dangled from his horn tips, tinkling at every motion.

Pointy shoes and that outlandish look revealed his identity plainly.

A mid-ranking demon, Jester-Jester.

The Jester-Jester performed a theatrical bow toward Astaroth.

As for the woman striding ahead, she gave a slight nod in greeting to the one before her.

"Congratulations on your revival, Astaroth."

The Eighth Heavenly King paid no heed to the Jester-Jester; his gaze fixed entirely on the woman from the beginning. That visage and boldness evoked just one demoness.

Remaining sprawled on his throne, he snorted dismissively at the salutation.

"Ninth Heavenly King, Duvessa. So you came, huh."

In truth, she was the Ninth Heavenly King, who plunged the Kingdom of Aetherion into chaos and nearly claimed its Supreme Divine Treasure.

The puppeteer of Jenea for years, masquerading as her grandma, and the schemer fueling Solaris's latest turmoil.

Once the old woman's guise served no purpose, she cast it off to unveil her authentic form.

Duvessa smirked, eyeing the seething demonic throng below.

"It seems you wasted no time turning a prison into a kingdom. And it looks like your Demon Generals are soon going to be born."

Astaroth stayed silent. He lounged on his throne, anticipating the hatching of the countless cocoons.

Upon their emergence, he would strike at the kingdom overhead and shatter the prison binding him for centuries.

"Such lovely despair! Such delicious panic! Shall we open more doors, my kings?"

The Jester-Jester cackled, pirouetting in place.

"That annoying thing... so it possesses ancient bloodline, huh. No wonder you keep him around."

Astaroth shot a fleeting glance at Jester-Jester. With one look, he discerned the potent force lurking in the mid-ranking demon.

"He has his uses."

Duvessa let the matter drop and shifted topics brusquely.

"The remaining human kingdoms are showing surprising resilience. The birth of those abominable heroes has also increased in recent years. It makes me wonder if those old gods have a hand in it."

Astaroth pondered momentarily before responding.

"Unlikely. Those old gods should be dead."

Despite surviving myriad battles and ravaging the continent, Astaroth knew scant details of the Gods' era cataclysmic war.

Still, heroes, eh?

In every epoch, defiant figures emerge to halt their conquest. Beings of vast might who dare battle Heavenly Kings like themselves.

Overcoming impossible odds, embodying humanity's hopes and determination, they obstruct the Darkness's march repeatedly.

Even more infuriating, killing one merely awakens successors to carry the torch.

Generation upon generation, they rally followers, then expend their lives forging paths for the next.

Those are heroes.

Despicable, abominable, cockroaches that refuse to die down.

Had it not been for existences like them, the demons would have long conquered the continent of Valdonia.

Even if the times have changed, and it was no longer the period from a hundred years ago, Astaroth still took them seriously.

It might have been just his avatar, but it had clashed with one of the heroes of this age.

A man riding a huge black griffin variant. Arrogant and insufferable.

The loss of his avatar still stung him.

"There are currently three such existences above. What are your plans?"

Duvessa questioned. She had investigated the Kingdom of Lunaris thoroughly as it was destined to be the next battleground.

She was also in touch with Astaroth while stirring up trouble all around the continent.

"Assemble everyone. Once my Demon Generals finish constructing their body, we will be breaking out."

The Jester-Jester nodded its head and opened a spatial gate.

Soon, a figure stepped out of the portal and stood before everyone.

His frame was massive, arms and thighs as thick as tree trunks. A square jaw marked his stoic features, with ram horns jutting from his head.

Clad in a sharp suit, he resembled a businessman far more than a demon.

"Beleth greets the Eighth and Ninth Heavenly Kings."

Beleth, the demon who had just named himself, bowed his head toward Astaroth and Duvessa.

"So you're the Tenth Heavenly King, huh. It's been ages, and everything's shifted. What became of Purson?"

Astaroth gave a slight nod to the newcomer.

Even though the Tenth Heavenly King wasn't the same demon he remembered, Beleth still felt familiar.

"Lord Purson fell to a Hero's blade 65 years back. The fragment picked me next."

That explained it.

Astaroth nodded.

Then he cocked his head, appearing a bit confused.

"Why are you by yourself? Don't say this is the only backup you scraped together?"

His irritated tone landed on Duvessa. They'd schemed for this day forever—the moment he'd return and crush one of the Seven Great Kingdoms.

To achieve that, they'd swallowed their mutual hatred and worked together on key plots.

But this was their outcome?

"The Eleventh Heavenly King Malcroth and Twelfth Heavenly King Skarnyx have been slain."

Duvessa replied, her voice laced with frustration and bitterness.

She'd warned those two idiots, freshly empowered by their fragments, about the dangers of their scheme.

Yet, drunk on their newfound strength, they'd ignored her.

They perished in battle along with their whole army, dealing a heavy blow to the forces of Darkness.

She'd tried salvaging it by snatching their Supreme Treasure, but a hero's meddling forced her to abandon the effort halfway.

She had every reason to feel aggrieved.

"Malcroth? Skarnyx? The wielders switched hands again, eh? Who took them down?"

Beleth remained quiet as Duvessa eyed Astaroth curiously.

"You'll know this guy. You battled him once. Though you came out on the losing end."

True to demon nature, Duvessa's tone carried smug satisfaction, and she made no effort to conceal it.

"Tsk. That cursed hero who calls himself the Dark Knight, huh."

Astaroth's expression twisted dramatically. Everyone—human or demon—knew the Eighth Heavenly King had faced the Dark Knight during the Black Tide clash.

Even if only an avatar, the loss stung Astaroth deeply.

How could he forget that smug bastard?

"Still, for him to topple two Heavenly Kings. Even if they were the weakest, were those two really that pathetic?"

"Don't get it wrong, Astaroth." Duvessa shook her head to set him straight. "The Black Knight's way more powerful now than when you faced him. Plus, the Eleventh fell to another hero—the one who tangled with the Seventh."

"Oh? What happened in that fight?"

Whether curiosity struck or he lacked other topics, Astaroth's eyes sharpened on Duvessa for details.

"Even using just his avatar, the Seventh landed the Demon Lord’s Curse on that hero."

Those words killed Astaroth's interest. Falling for such a basic trick meant that hero was beneath notice.

"I thought him weak at first too. But that guy shattered my assumptions. He not only endured the curse but returned even mightier. My gut screams he's a real threat, someone who could derail our plans."

Duvessa couldn't shake the Black Sun Needle's warning or the white flames that consumed her arm.

Her fast reflexes had saved her life.

The Jester-Jester at her back shuddered, haunted by the same recollection.