Becoming the Demon Lord: Taming the Demon Queen Begins

"What is this?"

Erelyn stared at the scene unfolding in the sky, momentarily lost in thought.

In her mind, Sylvia was still that little girl who had just stopped crying every day and started taking her training seriously.

But now, the sweet and playful banter between Timothy and Sylvia, along with their affectionate gestures, was enough to make anyone's heart melt.

It was only then that Erelyn realized Sylvia was no longer that pitiful child. Not only had she become a powerful Holy Emperor, but she also had a love that anyone would envy.

"Seriously, they're so sweet it's almost sickening. Aren't they worried about giving everyone else cavities?" Erelyn muttered under her breath, though a faint smile tugged at her lips.

That smile was filled with genuine relief.

After leaving the continent of Elant, she had worried that Sylvia, in her relentless pursuit of power, might one day become so cold and distant that no one could get close to her, even if she reached the level of a Holy Emperor.

But now, that worry had completely vanished.

In the way the two of them interacted, Erelyn could see it clearly: their love was so pure, it seemed flawless.

Gripping the sword in her hand, Erelyn, whose energy had been nearly depleted, suddenly felt a surge of strength ignite within her.

She looked at the countless blood-red spirits surging toward her. Despite her small frame, there wasn't a trace of fear in her eyes.

The crown on her head glowed with a faint blue light, a symbol of the Netherworld royal family's power to suppress spirits.

Today, no matter what, she would hold this position. She wouldn't retreat, not even a single step.

"Roar!"

Whether it was the danger of her sword aura or Erelyn's disdain, the blood-red spirits seemed to grow even more furious.

A more sinister ghostly energy spread through the air, and the spirits suddenly sped up, rushing toward the Underworld Dynasty.

The Underworld Dynasty's ghost soldiers had once numbered in the millions, their presence overwhelming and majestic.

But after nearly a month of relentless battle, many of the ghost soldiers had been obliterated, their souls scattered. Worse still, some had been tainted by the blood-red spirits, turning against the very dynasty they once defended.

Watching her former comrades fall or become enemies, Erelyn had been forced to retreat step by step.

Even the ghost soldiers who had sworn to die for the princess were beginning to feel a deep sense of helplessness.

With their strength, they could no longer turn the tide of this battle.

At this point, even the princess, who had charged into the thick of the fight alone, was struggling to protect herself.

If this continued…

The crown on Erelyn's head still radiated the oppressive power of the Netherworld royal family, but the ghost soldiers knew all too well that even the princess's spiritual energy was running dry.

It wouldn't be long before this final line of defense was completely overrun.

The Underworld Dynasty, which had stood for countless millennia, guiding souls to the afterlife, was on the verge of total collapse.

Despair and hopelessness spread like wildfire. No matter how much they didn't want to believe it, the ghost soldiers knew they couldn't stop the inevitable.

They understood that the end was near.

But just as Erelyn's strength was fading, and she felt utterly powerless, trapped in a deep sense of frustration and guilt…

The sword aura brewing in the sky finally erupted.

"Boom!"

It was like the first thunderclap of spring, powerful enough to awaken all living things.

The deafening sound shook the ground for thousands of miles around the Underworld Dynasty.

More importantly, the sharp, murderous sword aura struck fear into the hearts of both the living and the dead.

At that moment, Timothy's gaze shifted toward the ground.

His eyes glowed with a holy golden light. Though he held no sword in his hand, the boundless sword aura around him took the shape of one.

This sword, formed entirely from the wind, carried a presence far more imposing than any ordinary Heavenly-level weapon.

[Convergence Strike]

This strike embodied both Timothy and Sylvia's understanding of the way of the sword.

They had poured everything into this one blow, amplifying the sword aura to its absolute limit.

The power of this strike was beyond anything anyone could imagine.

Discover more stories at empire

Even those at the level of a Holy Emperor would be left in the dust.

The wind howled, and the sky darkened.

Two beams of light—one pale green, the other golden—shone down on the invisible sword in Timothy's hand.

A strange, ancient fragrance filled the air, as if it carried the mysteries of the ages.

Even the spirits, who lacked physical senses, could feel this aura. It was as if the very space around them was trembling and warping under the pressure, radiating an unbearable heat.

The might of a Holy Emperor?n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

No, this was far more terrifying than anything a Holy Emperor could muster!

"Is this the Convergence Strike?"

The sword aura in Timothy's hand grew even more overwhelming, so much so that even he found it difficult to control.

The ancient technique granted by the system was indeed profound, but to unleash such power with a single strike?

It wasn't just his own sword aura—Sylvia's sword aura was unimaginably powerful as well.

The restored Phoenix Blade had become a Heavenly-level treasure, yet its oppressive force still paled in comparison to the red-glowing wooden sword in Sylvia's hand.

It seemed that not only was Sylvia's comprehension of the sword beyond extraordinary, but the wooden sword she wielded held mysteries far beyond what anyone could fathom.

But studying that wooden sword would have to wait. Right now, the sword aura was ready—it was time to bring down this strike.

A sharp glint flashed in Timothy's eyes. Without further hesitation, he raised the sword formed by the two beams of light and aimed it at the vast earth below.

From above to below, he brought the sword down with absolute resolve.

The sky above was dim and vast, the earth below endless and desolate.

But this strike seemed capable of tearing through the heavens, obliterating everything in its path.

Anything that stood in its way—would die!

The way of the sword, a path pursued by countless practitioners throughout the ages.

But at this moment…

All the sword auras in the world seemed to converge into this one strike.

The long river of swordsmanship, flowing through the stars for eons, had finally reached its culmination here.

The wind roared, and the sword aura was sharp and fierce.

Wherever the ancient, murderous sword aura swept, everything would be cut to pieces.

Even the blood-red spirits, controlled by the malevolent force, looked up at the sky in shock, filled with an inexplicable fear.

But it was too late to escape.

The sword aura, glowing with pale green and golden light, descended with unstoppable force.

Where it passed, space shattered, and the sky itself seemed to break apart.

It sounded like the roar of a dragon, or perhaps the bellow of a beast.

An endless, majestic sound echoed through the vast sky.

And then, the sword struck.

"Boom!"

The earth cracked, rocks shattered.

The Netherworld trembled, mountains and rivers roared.

The million-strong army of spirits, locked in battle across the land, was torn apart by this single strike.

In an instant, countless spirits were obliterated, their souls scattered to the winds—completely wiped out!