Leon woke up early. Too early, judging by how dark it still was.
He sat up and rubbed his face. The air was still. Quiet. Unnaturally so.
He slipped out of bed, still shirtless, and walked over to the door. When he opened it, the hallway outside greeted him with more silence. The torches lining the corridor flickered dimly, casting long shadows across the rough stone walls.
He stepped out, arms crossed.
"No one's around... not even Selene?" he muttered.
The castle, already bleak during the day, felt dead at this hour. The corridors were narrow and dim, with walls that seed to swallow sound. His footsteps echoed faintly with each step.
"Creepy as hell." He glanced around. "Then again, I'm in a demon castle. Should've expected this."
He started walking—slowly, without purpose at first.
"May as well get familiar with the place."
The system hadn't transferred all the mories of the old Leon. Only the essential ones—the identity of his retainers, the state of the world, the basics. Apparently, anything deed "trivial" had been left out.
Which ant things like... the layout of his own castle. The exact number of his people. Their conditions. The true state of his territory.
"Big picture, I know we're screwed," he muttered, turning into another empty corridor, "but on the ground level, I've got no damn clue."
He opened doors as he passed them.
A dusty storeroom.
A vacant bedroom.
A crumbling study.
Room after room, all empty. Silent. Forgotten.
"Is anyone even living in this damn castle besides and the maids?"
After about half an hour, he found a stairwell and ascended. When he reached the top, he pushed open a creaking door and stepped out onto the highest balcony of the castle.
The cold morning wind hit his face.
The sky was still dark, with only the faintest glow on the horizon. Looking out, Leon saw... nothing. Just barren land. Dry, cracked soil that stretched for miles. Rocky terrain, twisted trees, and patches of dull gray grass barely clinging to life.
At the foot of the castle were scattered huts. Maybe a dozen. Maybe more, if you counted the ones barely holding together.
"So that's where the survivors live..."
He leaned against the stone railing, frowning.
"No wonder the humans didn't bother finishing the job. They probably looked at this land and thought, 'Let them rot. Why waste the effort?'"
And honestly? He couldn't bla them.
"Still. Doesn't an I'll stay rotting here."
He narrowed his eyes at the horizon.
"Let's start with the basics. Who's left. What we have. What we need."
He turned back toward the stairs.
"Today's going to be a long day."
Leon sat on the stone ledge of the castle window, the icy morning wind brushing against his bare skin. He pulled his cloak tighter around him, eyes scanning the distant horizon as the sun began its slow crawl into the sky.
The world felt... still. Almost peaceful.
For a mont, he simply breathed. No system notifications. No responsibilities. Just silence and cold air. It helped him clear his head.
But peace, as always, was short-lived.
A faint commotion echoed from within the castle. Raised voices, hurried footsteps, soone yelling.
Leon frowned but didn't move. He glanced down toward the foot of the castle, spotting small figures moving between the scattered huts.
From this height, they looked like ants, sluggish and aimless.
"No life in their steps. Just surviving," Leon muttered.
The commotion behind him grew louder.
"So much for peace."
With a sigh, Leon stood and made his way back inside, descending the narrow spiral staircase toward the source of the noise. It was coming from his wing.
His brows drew together as the voices grew clearer.
"You were supposed to be at his door!"
"What if sothing happened again?"
"This kind of negligence could get him killed!"
Leon turned the corner and found a small crowd gathered just outside his room. His retainers—all ten of them—were glaring at Selene, who stood stiffly near the door, her ears drooping, tails twitching nervously.
"I was stationed here all night until he told to stop," Selene said, bowing her head. "He ordered not to stand by his door. Said he'd call if he needed anything."
"And you just listened?" one barked.
"He's young! He doesn't understand the risks yet."
"You should've known better. He is the last royal blood."
Leon had heard enough.
"Am I interrupting sothing?" he said coolly, stepping into view.
All heads snapped toward him. The tension popped like a balloon.
"Y-Your Highness!" Zorath, the oldest among them, stepped forward, clearly relieved. "We couldn't find you. We feared sothing had happened—again."
"I went for a walk," Leon said, expression unreadable. "Didn't realize I needed permission to breathe."
"Of course not," Zorath said quickly. "We were only worried—"
Silence fell like a hamr. No one dared speak.
Leon's tone hardened even further. "I don't tolerate people tearing down the ones who actually do their jobs. If you have a complaint, bring it to . Don't gang up like cowards on one of the only loyal people left."
Zorath, the white-bearded elder among the retainers, bowed his head slightly. "You're right, Your Highness. We overstepped."
His voice was respectful, but carried concern. "Still, we ask that you inform soone before leaving your chambers. You know there have been... attempts on your life before. We can't afford another close call."
Leon's eyes narrowed.
'Assassination attempts? When?' he thought, surprised. 'Why don't I rember that...? Must not have been included in the mories I inherited.'
Still, it left a sour taste. He couldn't let that kind of threat—or disrespect—slide.
Leon straightened his shoulders and looked Zorath dead in the eye.
"I'm the king now. Do I need to ask permission to walk around my own castle?"
A dry snicker echoed through the room.
Leon's eyes shifted. Gorran.
The hulking minotaur leaned back against the stone wall, arms crossed, an amused grin on his beastly face.
"What's so funny?" Leon asked, cold and calm.
Gorran shrugged with mock innocence. "Nothing at all, Your Highness. I'm just impressed." He smirked. "Didn't expect the little cub who locked himself in his chambers for weeks to suddenly start growling."
Leon's eyes swept across the room. No one said anything. No one defended him. Not even Zorath.
'So that's how it is...'
They were loyal—yes. But not out of belief.
They followed his blood, not his will.
Fine.
He'd remind them why royal blood mattered.
Without a word, Leon activated his skill: [Royal Demon's Presence].
A wave of oppressive pressure crashed into the room like a tidal wave of force. It wasn't just magic—it ca from deep within their veins, a command imprinted into their very essence.
One by one, they fell to their knees—despite being far stronger than him physically. Their bodies trembled under the sheer weight of ancestral dominance.
Even Zorath clutched his chest, sweat pouring down his temples.
All except one.
Elvera, the stoic dark elf, remained standing. She winced, but stood tall. As a demon-aligned race, the pressure nudged her instincts—but not her knees.
Leon walked forward, stopping in front of Gorran, who was forced down on one knee. Even while kneeling, the minotaur's hulking fra stood level with Leon's eyes.
Leon stared him down.
"Still think it's funny?" he asked, voice low.
Gorran clenched his jaw but said nothing. His pride burned in his throat, but his body wouldn't move.
Zorath finally spoke up, voice strained. "That's enough... Your Highness."
Leon let the mont linger a second longer—then released the skill.
The pressure vanished instantly.
Everyone gasped, catching their breath like they'd just surfaced from underwater. So collapsed entirely, others steadied themselves against walls or furniture.
Leon turned back toward the room, his voice calm but commanding.
"Loyalty is not obedience alone. You don't get to question while hiding behind old mories of a weak prince. If I give an order, you follow it—or you leave."
No one responded. No one dared.
Leon gave a final look to Selene, whose eyes shimred with sothing close to admiration.
"Selene. Co with ."
"Yes, Master," she said imdiately, stepping to his side.
Leon didn't wait for the others. He walked away, leaving them in the silence he'd carved with presence alone.
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