Dragon King: Throne of Demons and Gods-Chapter 152: Where Angels Fall, Monsters Rise

Bel and Novaria walked in silence through the hospital halls. A few guards stood nearby, tense and cautious, their hands resting near their weapons as their eyes tracked the pair.

Novaria’s face was serious, her jaw tight, but even then, a small tear formed at the edge of her eye. She wiped it away before it could fall, looking ahead with determination.

Bel was walking in front, but he could feel it and nodded slightly.

"Good," he said, his voice low. "Use that pain. Let your will and your emotions become your second heart. Remember it every time you’re cornered."

Novaria gave a small nod in return.

"What do we do next, my lord?"

Bel’s gaze drifted forward, but just for a second, his eyes dropped to a faint, glowing panel only he could see, his inventory screen. One item glimmered in particular: [Dungeon Key: Category B]

He closed the window with a blink.

"We fulfill our promise," he said. "We begin building the army."

They stepped out of the hospital and into the open street. A crowd had gathered. Citizens pressed close, though knights were doing their best to hold them back.

Some pointed fingers, others whispered prayers. Bel and Novaria drew their attention like gravity, and murmurs spread like wildfire: a real Demon Lord, two monsters.

Bel gave them a passing glance. He shifted his stance and his wings began to spread, but before they could emerge, a voice cut through the noise.

"Bel!"

It was Lyraen. She stood with Ronan and Cassandra, their faces tense. They had been helping the guards control the crowd, but the moment they saw Bel, they couldn’t stay silent.

Ronan stepped forward first, eyes tired and lined with worry.

"Bel... Please. Arkel..."

Cassandra looked hesitant, struggling to find the right words. Lyraen, for once, said nothing. Not even a joke. Her eyes searched him, wary.

Bel looked at them quietly for a moment. Then, unexpectedly, he smiled.

They froze. He used to be so cold, so distant. But now, seeing him smile... it threw them off.

"At last," he said softly, with a small laugh. "You lost that annoying confidence."

Lyraen blinked.

"What...?"

Bel walked between them, Novaria close behind.

"Arkel is technically savable," he said. "Better odds than the prince. So wait. I might find a way."

Their eyes widened. Not just because of what he said, but how he said it. He wasn’t cold. He was calm. Warm, even.

Ronan, however, couldn’t hold back any longer. His breath hitched, and he dropped to his knees.

"Please!" he cried out. "Please, Bel. Save him. Arkel was my first friend. He’s the reason I became an adventurer in the first place. Without him... I can’t keep going."

His knees hit the ground, then his hands, and finally, he bowed his head low until it touched the dirt.

The crowd gasped. Even Lyraen and Cassandra looked stunned.

To bow like that and head to the ground was more than a plea. It was total surrender. It meant you had nothing left but hope in the one you were begging.

It was something no proud knight or warrior did easily. But Ronan did it, without hesitation.

For someone like him, Bel wasn’t just a demon lord. In that moment, he was the closest thing to a god.

"Please... I’m begging you..."

Cassandra reached out, trying to lift him.

"Ronan... get up..."

But he didn’t move. He just kept his head down, waiting, hoping.

Bel looked at Ronan quietly, then spoke.

"Lift your head."

Ronan flinched, but didn’t move. He kept begging, his voice cracking with emotion. Lyraen knelt beside him, trying gently to make him rise, her eyes filled with concern.

Bel let out a small sigh.

"I already said I would see what I can do. Begging me now makes it look like you’re trying to pressure me. Stand."

The tone was cold and cutting. It was the voice they remembered from before—the one that didn’t care.

Silence spread through the group. The people watching held their breath. Ronan stayed motionless for a few seconds, stunned. Then Bel continued, more steady this time.

"If you have that much resolve, then stay here. Don’t move, don’t leave. Wait until all this is over. But if I manage to do "something"..."

His eyes narrowed slightly. Ronan slowly looked up, caught in the weight of those words.

Bel finished.

"Then your friend might owe me his life."

Ronan’s eyes widened. Lyraen helped him to his feet. He stood, head down, not daring to look Bel in the eyes.

Bel watched him for a moment, then looked briefly at Novaria, who nodded in return.

They walked forward. As they passed through the front line of knights and citizens, Bel slowed, then straightened his back. With a quiet motion, his wings unfurled.

Gasps echoed through the crowd, and everyone stared in shock. The sight was spectacular: black wings with strange edges stretched in full display.

Lyraen, face in shock, watched with her mouth open. To some species, old enough to witness history, some legends were

easier to describe. And thus, these wings, with this shape, were the catalyst of a chain reaction in her mind.

The aura, the cores, the elemental power, the attitude... all of it pointed to something she learned a long time ago. In that moment, she understood Bel’s true nature.

Bel took off from the ground, Novaria gripping his arm, and together they vanished into the sky at phenomenal speed, leaving behind only a stunned silence.

The sky was cold and high above the world, the wind rushing against them as Bel flew silently. Novaria clung to his arm, quiet, her golden eyes staring into the distance.

The hospital, the crowd, the city, they were behind them now, but the tension hadn’t left.

After a while, she spoke softly.

"When Crest called my name... I almost turned back."

Bel said nothing, waiting.

"I thought about them all. The way they looked at me. Like I was something dangerous. Like I wasn’t me anymore. It’s hard. I felt safer with you. I always do. But if I’m not near you... I don’t know what I’ll do."

"It’s normal to feel that way," Bel replied calmly. "There’s no shame in being hurt by a friend’s fear. That pain means you still care."

She looked down, the wind drying the corners of her eyes where a tear had almost formed. Bel glanced at her.

"But," he added, his voice firmer, "guilt is a luxury, especially for soldiers. If you let it weigh you down, it becomes a chain. You’re not human anymore, Novaria. You’re something else now. And this path has no place for chains."

She nodded slowly.

"Can I still care, though? About them? About Crest, about Dusteria? Even as a demon... am I allowed to still love people?"

Bel didn’t hesitate.

"Power doesn’t erase emotions. It reveals the ones that were real all along."

She looked at him then, as if searching for more. Not just answers. Permission. freeweɓnovēl.coɱ

"Then... tell me what to do. Not as your soldier, but... as me. What should I be? How should I act?"

Bel turned his head slightly toward her.

"I can tell you what I expect from my right hand. What I need in battle. But you’re more than a sword. I won’t dictate your choices. If you want to keep speaking to your old friends, do it. If you don’t, don’t. As long as you live, that’s your decision. Not mine. Not anyone else’s."

She didn’t reply. But her grip on his arm tightened a little.

Bel suddenly slowed, hovering still in the open sky. He looked down at the sea of trees below them. The capital was far behind now. The distance was good.

"We’ll land here."

Novaria nodded and let go of his arm.

They dropped like falling stars, the wind whistling around them. When they hit the ground, a wave of dust and leaves burst outward, but they landed smoothly.

Bel opened his inventory screen. The key shimmered: Category B Dungeon Key.

He looked at Novaria.

"This is where it starts. Our army."

He held the key and imagined a door standing before them. Then, he inserted the shimmering item into the imagined space.

There was a pulse, then a crack of air.

A black-and-violet vortex spun open, swirling black and violet. The key dissolved instantly, used up by the activation.

The raw magic rolled out and blew Novaria’s hair back. She squinted, bracing against the force. Then she looked at Bel. He was still, calm, and unbothered.

She stood straighter and set her jaw.

Bel took the first step into the rift, and Novaria followed.

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