Demon King of Tyranny Anos Voldigoad in The Eminence in Shadow

Chapter 25 - Encounter with the True Demon

At the break of dawn the next day, Epsilon, fully aware of Millia's routine to be in the kitchen at this hour, was subtly performing her maid chores nearby. When she noticed Anos making his way there, she seized the opportunity. Skillfully tailing him, she discreetly positioned herself by the kitchen entrance, her senses heightened, ready to eavesdrop on the imminent conversation between Anos and Millia.

However, despite being right next to the opened door, Epsilon couldn't discern a single word. The hum of activity and clattering of pots and pans from the kitchen seemed distant, even though they should've been clear and loud. It was as though a veil of silence enveloped the area around the door. Confused and slightly irritated, she attempted to lean in closer for a clearer view.

"—-!?"

Suddenly, an overwhelming sense of dread gripped her. It wasn't magic; it was far more primitive and chilling. Epsilon's limbs refused to obey her, her voice stuck in her throat, her magical energies stagnated. Petrified, she realized she was paralyzed, not by magic or poison, but by sheer, unadulterated killing intent.

The realization hit her hard - the sheer magnitude of killing intent pouring out of the kitchen was enough to render her, a top operative of the Shadow Garden, completely helpless. The weight of the situation pressed down on her, a chilling reminder that she was delving into waters far deeper and more treacherous than she had ever imagined.

A cold sweat broke out on her forehead. She was vulnerable, exposed. Her training had prepared her for deadly attacks, magic, and ambushes, but nothing like this. This wasn't just a show of power; it was a clear message. Don't move.

Epsilon felt an eternity pass, paralyzed by the raw, unfiltered killing intent emanating from the kitchen. Yet no relief came. The intent neither waned nor ebbed away; instead, it clung to her like a suffocating fog, weighing her down mercilessly, making her feel like prey caught in a deadly snare.

Then, a ray of hope came in the form of Millia. She walked out of the kitchen, humming softly to herself, clearly oblivious to the oppressive atmosphere around her. Millia walked past Epsilon without a second glance, seemingly unaware of her frozen form mere inches away.

However, instead of relief, the killing intent around Epsilon intensified. Each subsequent wave was sharper, colder, more precise. It was as if it had a consciousness of its own, seeking out her very soul. The soft, rhythmic echo of footsteps began to approach the door. The sound felt like a death march, each step resonating with the overwhelming intent surrounding her.

Anos Voldigoad emerged from the doorway, the very embodiment of the dread she felt. He paused after walking a few steps forward, not looking towards Epsilon, his gaze fixed ahead. There was no need for him to look her way; his killing intent alone was a clear and unspoken message. But it was his voice, cold and unyielding, that truly sent shivers down her spine.

"I don't know what your relationship with Cid is" he began, his gaze never turning towards her, "but considering my brother's trust in you, I'll overlook your current insolence.."

His voice then took on a dangerously low tone, "However, let me make one thing clear... if anything were to happen to Millia..."

As Anos's chilling voice whispered the warning about Millia, the world around Epsilon became an abyss of torment. From the shadow of Anos on the floor, the souls of countless beings he had slain in the past began to emerge. Each one was a testament to his immeasurable power and ruthlessness.

Humans, with eyes hollowed from despair, their mouths open in silent screams. Majestic dragons, once rulers of the skies, now looked broken and subdued. Spirits, their ethereal forms wavering, emanated an aura of deep sorrow. Gods, who once held dominion over divine realms, were now mere specters of their former selves, their divine brilliance dimmed. Every conceivable being, from the most insignificant to the mightiest, manifested in that moment, their collective anguish directed solely at Epsilon.