There's a saying I've come to understand in the short time I've existed.

  Be careful what you wish for is the saying I now adopt. And as for the reason why that is?...

  Was I overzealous? Or did I overestimate my strength, blinded by the confidence of having a pack at my back? Or was it them, my kin? Did I place so much faith in those beneath me that I became blindsided to their obvious shortcomings?!

  If none of these apply, then someone, anyone, explain to me…

  Why are my kin dying before my very eyes?

  It began not long after we entered the Demon Noble's territory.

  For a while, we encountered nothing, just the eerie silence of a land left unchallenged. It was as if the world had gone still, as if fate had given us a free pass to walk these forbidden grounds unopposed.

  Or so we thought, not until we came across him?!

  Not a Demon Larva. Not a Lesser Demon. But a being of a rank yet unseen, a presence that made the very air tremble around it.

  Marax!

  Race: [Greater Demon] - Lv. 65

  Species: [Fleshrender]

  Trait: Capable of reshaping its limbs into weapons, adapting mid-battle. Its blood is acidic, burning through metal and flesh alike.

  Weakness: ???

  Attribute: Body Transmutation Type.

  .

  Nothing on its weakness? What does that mean?

  Could it be that it has none? No, that's impossible. Everything has a weakness. Or at least everything has to have a weakness if ever there is to be balance.

  If it's not appearing, then there's only one explanation for that. My comprehension level isn't high enough to perceive it.

  Even so, the sheer gap in power between us was undeniable. A Level 65 demon against me, a mere Level 9 Demon Larva, one yet to undergo its first evolution.

  It was monstrous in every sense of the word. A hulking, grotesque form with exposed sinew and shifting bones that jutted out at unnatural angles. Its flesh writhed faces melted and reformed along its body as if it could never settle on one shape.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  This thing wasn't a demon. It was a nightmare given form.

  And we, my kin, my so-called pack had wandered straight into its hunting grounds.

  We were doomed.

  ---

  "Huh… Lesser Demons?"

  Even Marax seemed momentarily puzzled by our presence.

  "What are demons of no ranking doing in Duke Valefar's territory?"

  Duke Valefar… So that's the name of the Demon Noble who governs this land.

  Until now, I had assumed Marax was the ruler here, that this territory belonged to him. I didn't even want to entertain the idea that he wasn't the important character here, that he was no extra but the real deal.

  But if that wasn't the case, then what was he?

  The realization struck like a knife.

  This Greater Demon, this walking nightmare was not the master of this domain.

  It was merely a subordinate.

  Marax stood to Duke Valefar as the Lesser Demons stood to me. A mere follower. A testament to the authority of a superior being.

  And yet, this follower alone held power so vast, so overwhelming, that even if every Lesser Demon under my command fought together… we wouldn't even make a dent.

  How was I supposed to feel?

  Knowing that before a single servant of another, every demon under me amounted to nothing but insects before a storm?

  The answer was obvious.

  I felt like shit.

  Once again, my existence was being called into question. Once again, I was reminded of how insignificant I was.

  I had experienced this before, the moment I first laid eyes on my pack's original alpha. The way its size and power dwarfed me had left me questioning my place.

  But I had conquered that fear. I had stripped the alpha of its throne and taken its place.

  Yet here I stood, confronted once more by that same crushing feeling.

  And worse still, this wasn't even the alpha. This was merely a servant of the true ruler.

  I wanted to see Valefar. I needed to see him. Not for answers, not for some grand reason, but just so he could know how much I despised this feeling.

  But how could I?

  When I wasn't even sure if I'd survive this encounter?

  ---

  "Lesser Demons or not," Marax growled, stepping forward, "it doesn't matter. You have wandered where you shouldn't have. Consequences should be expected."

  He moved.

  And with that single motion, we were sent flying.

  His four monstrous claws swept down upon us.

  It was not an attack. Not a technique. It was a casual swipe. A simple motion, an afterthought and yet the sheer force of it sent us hurling through the air, scattering like leaves caught in a hurricane.

  I couldn't even tell whether it was his claws that struck us or simply the shockwave of his movement.

  I survived.

  I don't know how, but I survived.

  Around me, my kin groaned in pain, some twitching on the blood-streaked ground, others motionless.

  Marax loomed above us, his grotesque form casting a shadow over our broken figures.

  "Lesser Demons protecting a Demon Larva?"

  There was a hint of confusion in his tone. A crack in his absolute certainty.

  "What is happening here?"

  He didn't understand. He couldn't.

  Lesser Demons following a Demon Larva. Accepting one as their leader is unheard of. No precedent. No records.

  This shouldn't exist.

  But it did.

  And Marax, despite his overwhelming power, could not comprehend why.

  "No matter," he scoffed. "I intended to destroy you all in one move, but if this is what it takes—"

  He raised his right arm.

  The flesh warped, twisting unnaturally, bones shifting as muscles coiled and snapped into place. The transformation was grotesque, living flesh moulding itself into a weapon.

  A hammer.

  Massive. Unyielding. Final.

  And then—

  He brought it down.

  Not as an attack. Not as a warning.

  But to crush us. To erase us. To snuff us out like the insignificant insects he believed us to be.

  But—