Gonna Be a Demon King!
Chapter 86: Intensifying Wariness

Chapter 86: Intensifying Wariness

’High-Human!’

This man was a higher breed of human. From what Ilya knew, higher breeds enjoyed advantages in innate stats, levelling speeds, and energy quality.

’But more importantly...’

Ilya’s gaze shifted to the ground before him, her eyes subtly tracing an invisible semi-circle around his position.

’There’s something off about that area.’

The knight’s eyes caught the small shift in her focus, and upon noticing where her gaze was directed, he let out a soft laugh.

"Well, you might not be the talkative type, but you’re surely the sharp type.

Most demons would’ve charged straight at me by now—and ended up dead the moment they stepped into that radius."

"...that’s trap magic..."

Hearing Ilya’s murmur, the man’s eyes lit up in surprise.

"Oh? You’re quite knowledgeable too."

He sounded genuinely impressed, but it only took a second for his expression to shift into a disappointed one. The energy around him mellowed as he exhaled a long, almost tired sigh.

"But that voice of yours..."

He studied her a moment, expression filled with something almost like...envy?

"I know you demons age slower than we humans thanks to your longer lifespans, so I was hoping you weren’t as young as you looked.

But after hearing you speak... yeah, it’s pretty clear you’re every bit as young as you look."

Ilya, her grip still on her sword, ready to activate her Unique Skill at any instant, asked,

"And why does that matter?"

The knight gave a loose shrug.

"Honestly? It doesn’t. Not really."

He looked up briefly, like he was recalling something distant, then refocused on her.

"But what are you—13? 14? Most humans your age would be out in the fields, playing with sticks and stones. Maybe starting school, dreaming about stories and heroes..."

He gestured at the wreckage around them with a dry smile.

"And yet here you are, on this mess of a battlefield."

Ilya didn’t respond to him. She just watched him in silence, brows faintly furrowed in thought.

Why was he talking to her like this? —Was the question going through her head.

This wasn’t the place for idle conversation, after all.

But that question quickly left her mind as the realisation dawned.

’He’s wary of me...just as I am of him.’

Ilya’s wariness of him stemmed from the fact that she hadn’t sensed his presence until she’d finished off that knight platoon. She also doubted he’d arrived just then, meaning he must’ve been there the whole time, watching.

That meant he’d been able to avoid her detection, with her only discovering him due to her Instinct skill.

Also, if he’d seen her fight, then he had almost certainly witnessed her Darkstorm skill in action—how her opponents had been shredded to ribbons before they even managed to close the distance.

So, he knew she had a way of attacking at range, without making any particular movements or gestures.

That was most likely why he was talking with her. He was either trying to find out what her maximum range was or trying to lull her into dropping her guard.

If she showed even the slightest opening he’d pounce, and her Instinct was telling her that even with her newly acquired aura, she couldn’t take this man lightly.

While she gathered her thoughts, the knight glanced around at the corpses on the ground. Upon noticing the green traces of residual energy still clinging to some of them, he gave a low whistle.

"Oh my... you can already use aura. Given how young you are, you’d make veteran knights weep into their helmets."

"...why do you keep bringing up my age?"

Was that really all he could think to talk about?

The man caught her suspicious gaze and only shrugged again, casually brushing off her wariness.

"Like I said before, your age doesn’t really matter. That also applies to your ability to use aura.

It’s just that you’re stronger than the average of your age, so it’s surprising."

"And why are you judging me by human standards?"

Ilya’s return question made the man freeze, his expression turning contemplative for a moment.

"...True. I am judging you by human standards."

He looked up at Ilya, muttering to himself.

"Even though you don’t have horns and you could almost pass for one of us, that demonic energy of yours isn’t fooling anyone."

Almost instantly after he spoke, a voice thundered across the area, laced with fury and resentment.

"YOU HUMAN!! WHY THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING WITH THE ENEMY?! KILL THE DAMN DEMON ALREADY!!!"

From above, an angel swooped down, charging past the knight and aiming straight for Ilya.

But just as the angel rushed past, the knight calmly reached out and grabbed the angel by the wing, his grip firm.

"Hold it there, chicken wing."

In a casual display of strength, he flung the angel to the side, sending them crashing into a crumbling building.

To anyone without the full context of this situation, it would have seemed as though the knight had just attacked his ally or didn’t want to attack Ilya.

But both the knight and Ilya knew that he’d just saved that angel’s life.

If the angel had gotten any closer to Ilya, she would’ve instantly activated Darkstorm, shredding the angel to pieces of meat in an instant. The knight had spared him by flinging him out of harm’s way.

Ilya, unconcerned with the angel any longer, focused her attention fully on the knight, her eyes narrowing slightly.

’So, he has the kinetic vision to easily track that angel’s movement at that speed, targeting his wing precisely, and has the physical strength to fling him with just one hand.

His strength...exceeds mine.’

With that thought, Ilya slowly infused her arms with magical power, activating a body-strengthening spell.

Naturally, the knight noticed this and turned towards her. When he saw the magic power in her arms, he spoke with a small smile.

"You really are a sharp one."

His hand began moving to his sword as he continued.

"But strength isn’t my forte."

He unsheathed his sword, and a wave of light energy surged down the blade’s length, coating it with a powerful aura.

"My forte just so happens to be speed."

In the blink of an eye, he flashed forward, closing the distance and slashing at Ilya’s neck, but she raised her blade to intercept, their swords clashing with a violent burst of sparks.

The force of the collision sent a shockwave through the air as their blades were drawn back and met once more—

**CLANG!!

—followed by the rebound of their aura-coated swords clashing again.

Xaren and the half-angel’s blades repeatedly collided, each collision causing shockwaves that rattled the earth beneath them.

Sparks danced around their blades as Xaren twisted his sword to the side, redirecting the half-angel’s overhead strike. Right after parrying the strike, he spun to generate momentum and launched a low slash aiming for the knees.

The half-angel leapt back, only for Xaren to close in again, their swords tearing through the air as they exchanged blows at speeds faster than the eye could see.

Suddenly, Xaren leapt back, and before the half-angel could close the distance, he used Gravitational Repulsion to blow him back, before lifting a broken wall and hurling it at the half-angel.

Despite being knocked off balance, the half-angel unfurled his wings and used them like sails to steady himself, before swinging his sword in a downward arcing slash.

His great sword cleaved the wall in half and released a murky gold arc of aura that ripped through the wreckage and continued its path, carving out a deep scar in the ruined street behind it.

Dust clouded the air from the blow, and for a moment, the half-angel scanned the space ahead, his brows furrowing.

’...where is he-?!’

He suddenly felt a shiver down his spine and every hair on his body stood on end. Without thinking, he bent his torso backwards, just in time to avoid Xaren’s sword which cut through the space his neck had been a second earlier.

The flaming blade tore through the air and bit into his chest plate, carving a deep, smoking slash across the armour.

Xaren landed a few feet to his right and clicked his tongue, his dark red eyes narrowing.

"Tsk... missed."

"!!"

The half-angel’s frown deepened as the realisation that Xaren nearly beheaded him dawned.

Given the way his armour had been sliced open with such ease, he knew that had he been even a fraction slower, the demon’s sword would have lopped off his head cleanly.

Gritting his teeth, he gathered light magic into his left palm, and with a roar of anger, unleashed a beam of light straight toward the grey demon.

Xaren immediately spun around, swinging his sword to intercept the sudden beam. The force of the impact with his sword knocked his body backwards, his boots carving through the cracked pavement as the light beam hissed off his sword and scattered into tiny fading motes.

Almost immediately, Xaren held out his left hand, fingers splayed, palm turned toward the half-angel who was about to close the distance. He activated a skill, and his demonic energy surged out of his palm in response, exerting control over the gravitational forces acting on the half-angel.

’Gravity Crush.’