In the first three months of his rule, Andreas came to understand a truth that weighed heavier than any weapon he had ever carried. The position of Overlord demanded far more from him than he had imagined. It was not merely a seat of power, nor was it a title that could be worn like armor. It was a constant burden that pressed against his mind and shoulders, a responsibility that shaped the lives of thousands.
In the earliest days of demon society, strength alone had spoken for every decision. Tribes formed under chiefs who ruled through force. Their power was absolute, and their fists were their law. Yet, over time, one flaw became impossible to ignore. The right hands of these chiefs, the trusted advisors who handled their daily affairs, betrayed them far more frequently than anyone else. Some advisors had drowned themselves in corruption and grasped for authority that did not belong to them. Others were so incompetent that they caused havoc without even intending to.
Gradually, demons realized that a chief could not survive on power alone. A ruler needed both strength and intelligence. Without the second, the first meant nothing.
To ensure that future leaders possessed these qualities, the chieftains of that age created a new tradition. Their children were permitted to marry only those who were exceptionally strong or exceptionally intelligent. This rule continued for generations, and eventually, a new subrace was born. They came to be known as the Great Demons. They surpassed ordinary demons in both physical power and mental sharpness. Their very existence was proof of the experiment's success.
Other subraces appeared as well. As demons interacted with humans more frequently, humanoid demons became increasingly common. Yet even that development was not enough for the chieftains. They also sought mastery over magic, for they believed it to be the final piece needed for true supremacy. Several began to form unions with demi-dragons and elves, races celebrated for their magical heritage. Their goal was clear. They wanted to combine the three ideals they believed defined the perfect ruler. Strength, intelligence, and magic.
The culmination of these unions created the Archdemons, the supreme pinnacle of demonkind. Only around two hundred existed in the entire world. Their lineage was fiercely guarded by strict marriage laws that demanded purity of blood. Andreas knew that his own family history was not entirely pure. One of his ancestors had married a mythical human mage. He did not dwell on the thought sentimentally. It simply entered his mind during the countless hours he spent analyzing himself and his role.
He understood now that the role of an Overlord was essential in ways he had never been taught. To reduce opportunities for betrayal, every report moved directly through him. Every process required his personal oversight. He was general, judge, strategist, and executioner. He was the mind, heart, bone, and vital artery of his territory. The land lived because he lived. If he fell, everything under him would fall with him.
Only now did he comprehend why so many territories of the past had collapsed the moment their Overlord died. The demon lands were sparse in population. Monsters wandered freely across the wilderness. The northern territories lived between the Demonic Forest on one side and the Endless Sea on the other. Without an Overlord, survival was little more than a fading hope.
Even with the intense training he had endured since childhood, Andreas still found himself struggling to adapt to the demands of leadership. Some of the burden naturally fell to Arden. The butler served not only as steward but also as guardian and advisor. Andreas recalled the meeting from three months ago and felt a brief wave of regret. Perhaps he should have listened to the financial manager, Kostra. Yet if he approached him now, Kostra would probably scold him politely, which was somehow worse than a direct reprimand.
At least the Great Demons had their hands again. The mages had already regenerated the limbs that Andreas had severed. He had ordered it, even though only three months had passed since the incident. The fear in their hearts would likely remain unchanged for years.
He closed his eyes and released a quiet sigh.
"This week I need to attend the Northern Border Overlord Conference."
These meetings constantly addressed the same core issues. Two deadly zones pressed against demon territory. The Demonic Forest and the Endless Sea. The forest was home to every type of monster imaginable. Slimes, chimeras, wyverns, dragons, and countless creatures that were not even properly named. If the forest was not purged frequently, the population overflowed into demon lands and turned entire regions into graveyards. The Overlords of the north were responsible for preventing such disasters.
However, Andreas knew that the upcoming conference would focus on something entirely different.
The previous Overlord.
He exhaled again, slower this time. Had the previous Lord survived for twenty more years, none of this turmoil would exist. The northern Overlords, though he had never met them, would undoubtedly see him as a valuable asset, or perhaps a vulnerable resource. If even two of them joined forces and marched into his territory, they could conquer it with little effort.
His thoughts drifted toward the duel he had fought against the previous Lord. He remembered the humiliation vividly. He had been defeated without the man using a single spell. There had been no advanced spearmanship. No complex technique. Only power. A level of power that felt impossible to reach. If two individuals with that kind of strength appeared before him now, he could not imagine a scenario where he survived.
He was not weak. He was an elite spearman and an epic tier mage. His abilities were nothing to scoff at. Yet, his opponents had stood at a height that made even his talent feel small.
Another day passed. The morning of the conference arrived at last. Andreas brought Arden with him to act as attendant and protector. Arden was a Great Demon who had lived for more than three hundred forty years, almost twice the expected lifespan of his species. His longevity alone revealed the depth of his power. He had served both the previous Overlord and the one before him.
A quiet thought echoed in Andreas's mind.
It seems my family line does not live long.
Arden was also a master-class spearman, strong enough to contend with some of the weaker Overlords. Even if Andreas had ordered him to stay behind, the butler would have forced his way into the journey using the excuse of protection.
As their carriage traveled along the edge of the Demonic Forest, Andreas allowed his thoughts to wander. The next purge was approaching quickly. Bandits were disrupting supply lines. As a border Overlord, his room for expanding the territory was severely limited. His people relied heavily on the export of monster materials, which made every disruption dangerous.
Eventually, his thoughts faded and he drifted into sleep.
Arden glanced at the resting young master. Andreas was perhaps the most frightening Lord he had ever served. His first Lord had seized power over the headless bodies of his brothers, yet he had not been cruel. He simply acted when necessary. The second Lord had neither warmth nor coldness. He was balanced, steady, almost neutral. His sudden death had shocked Arden more than any battlefield.
The third Lord, however, was truly terrifying.
Three months earlier, Andreas had called the Great Demons to a meeting. Arden had silently agreed with Kostra's concerns, though he had not raised his hand. The young Lord was too inexperienced to take full control. The previous Lord had died much earlier than expected and had never trained a successor properly. Kostra's reasoning was logical. Yet, the moment the others openly supported him, their hands had been severed.
Andreas had summoned the mage afterward to heal them, but Arden had never expected such a ruthless act. Even if the young Lord himself did not seem bothered by it, his reputation across the territory had grown dark and fearsome. Rumors whispered that he had poisoned the previous Overlord. His absence at the funeral only fueled those rumors further.
However, the true reason Arden feared his new master went deeper.
Andreas was a prodigy.
A child of impossible talent.
At fourteen, he had already reached elite class in spearmanship and epic tier in magic. His progress was so rapid that even Arden, who had witnessed countless warriors rise and fall, felt uneasy. He had
attended past conferences and met Archdemons. They were powerful, gifted, extraordinary. Yet in the end, they were still people. A child Archdemon behaved like a child, regardless of form.
Andreas was different.
Perhaps it was his upbringing. The second Lord had not known how to raise a successor. Perhaps that, mixed with Andreas's natural
intelligence, had created this strange result. Many described the young Lord as resembling a human-crafted golem that had been given life. Not emotionless, but unnervingly controlled.
When Andreas awoke again, the first thing he saw was a towering structure rising from the open plain. A tall tower stood alone,
surrounded by seven ancient statues. Each represented one of the first northern border Overlords. Most had eroded over the centuries, losing faces, limbs, or details to wind and rain. Despite their condition, they retained a quiet authority.
Three carriages were already parked nearby. His was the fourth.
When the carriage halted, Andreas stepped out and made his way to the tower's entrance. No guards stood watch. Only an empty stone basin sat before the door. He understood immediately. He drew his spear and cut his palm. Blood dripped into the basin, gathering in the center. A faint glow illuminated the stone, and then the blood vanished completely.
A deep grinding sound filled the air.
"SWOSHHH..."
The enormous stone door, protected by layers of ancient magic, slowly began to open. It was likely heavier than ten tons. While the door moved, Andreas glanced at his hand. The wound had already healed. His regeneration had always been unusual, even when he was a child. For a moment, he wondered if a hydra had slipped somewhere into his family line.
The door finally opened. Rows of torches along the walls lit themselves one by one. Runes and magic circles were carved into the stone with astonishing precision. Seven Overlords had contributed to the construction of this place. It was no surprise that it held such craftsmanship.
A spiral staircase stood inside, leading upward to the conference hall.
Andreas stepped forward and began to ascend, with Arden following closely behind.