Dungeon of Pride, Laplace

Chapter 960- Duke Vordanaz (4)

Just as the camp finished its preparations, Simon felt a subtle shift in the air. His eyes narrowed. A chill slithered down his spine—a feeling that was all too familiar. Something was coming.

'Tch, this is too soon. I can't let them come too close to the camp'.

 "Ring the Bell" Simon hurriedly gave the command.

The men scrambled to obey. They hurriedly got into formation and watched on nervously. The forest remained silent with only the occasional breeze rustling the trees.

But Simon could feel it as clearly as the blade at his side. There was no mistaking the presence—an enemy was near. Not just any enemy. Something far more dangerous.

"W-what is it? I don't see anything"…

"There is no one here?" the mercenaries and soldiers scrambled to grab a hold of themselves. Their inexperience was starting to surface.

 Simon didn't bother explaining. They wouldn't be able to feel it anyway. Some of the experienced fighters might notice something but the majority of the men here were just peasants and commoners who had never held a sword before the war.

With stretched nerves, he looked at his front. The faint breeze that stirred the air suddenly stilled. The torches lining the camp flickered like crazy and for a brief moment, the sky seemed darker—as if the moonlight itself was being swallowed.

To be able to affect their surrounding with just their presence, it was the appearance of a powerful foe, someone who carried the scent of death like a cloak.

 "Keep your weapons ready," Simon ordered sharply, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly.

For a moment nothing happened. The forest remained silent, the torches flickering weakly against the oppressive darkness.

The other mercenaries shifted uneasily, glancing around in confusion. It was then, from the shadows, a figure emerged. It was alone—but the sheer weight of its presence felt like an entire battalion.

Cloaked in dark armor that shimmered faintly under the faint moonlight, the figure moved with slow but heavy steps. A massive sword was stapped on their back, and a dark black aura like ink in the night sky, radiated from their body suffocating the very air.

The figure had two horns that crowned their head, a pale white body smooth as marble and utterly flawless and crimson eyes that stood out even in the darkness of the night.

They radiated an unsettling calm, like a predator that knew it stood at the top of the food chain, untouchable, unchallenged. It wasn't the gaze of a monster, nor even that of a soldier—it was the gaze of something noble. Something terrifyingly beautiful.

 Looking at their appearance, Simon's heart sank. That outstanding appearance that made one think of a high aristocrat, that inhuman beauty with no warmth and only eerie stillness. It was a kind of elegance that could only come from immense power, something that they were born with and could not be replicated.

Simon knew, deep in his bones, what this was. That overwhelming aura that seemed to press down on him like a physical weight, that terrifying beauty.

No—it was something far deeper, something that resonated in his very blood. A gulf that cannot be easily crossed, a difference that could not be measured by strength alone.

It was the feeling of being lesser, being outclassed on a fundamental level. It wasn't just power he was facing—it was bloodline.

It was the feeling of being lesser, being outclassed on a fundamental level. It wasn't just power he was facing—it was bloodline.

Simon clenched his teeth, the figure standing against him was no doubt a Demon Noble and no ordinary noble but a Demon Duke at that.

Although the figure made no introductions and carried no banners, Simon had no doubt. A Demon Duke was a being that belonged to the upper echelons of the Demon Lord's court—a nightmare given flesh, a creature whose mere presence could break the will of armies.

Throughout history, Demon Dukes were whispered of only in terrified reverence. They were beings forged in ages long past, possessing strength that rivalled the most powerful of human kings and holy knights.

Stories said that Demon Dukes could command entire legions with a glance, bend reality to their whims, and cleave through armies with a single swing of their blades.

They were monuments of despair, each one carrying with them the weight of centuries of conquest and destruction. It was no wonder that the soldiers were frozen in fear the moment they laid their eyes on the figure.

'What do I do?' Simon's heart pounded in his chest, but his expression remained cold and composed, masking the storm of thoughts raging beneath.

He didn't expect a Demon Duke to show out of nowhere. Normally, high-ranking demons like this acted as commanders, seated far behind the enemy lines and the chaos of the battlefield.

They let their armies do the work for them, sending wave after wave of cannon fodder to probe the enemy's defences. That's what Simon had in mind when he thought about what kind of a being high ranking demon nobles are and that was what he was counting on.

The horde marching towards them was vast, but manageable as long as it was the low-level foes the high ranking demon sent towards them.

The mission was to buy time but that was now thrown out of the window with the appearance of the Demon Duke. If the latter reached the camp, and realized this was only a decoy force, the entire strategy would collapse.

The enemy horde would adjust course immediately, chasing the main army before it could secure the fortress. Everything would fall apart.

'Do I have no choice but to risk it all? No, there is still a chance.

"Listen carefully everyone" Simon roared unleashing his aura.

Thanks to his interference that subverted some of the pressure brought by the Demon Duke, the mercenaries and soldiers who were paralyzed with fear, frozen in place as they stared at the latter, were snapped out of their stupor.

One by one, they fell to the ground, their faces pale as if death had already claimed them.