My Overpowered Demon System

Azrael stepped out of the main castle, walking into the warm morning air of the estate grounds.

Zephyr was already waiting for him outside.

He was dressed in relatively simple clothes.

A blue shirt with black pants and white slides.

"Good morning," Azrael greeted with a smile.

"Good morning, Lord Azrael," Zephyr replied with a bow that drew Azrael’s confused scrutiny.

"What was that for?" Azrael asked with raised brows.

Zephyr pointed at the coat Azrael was wearing.

"It gives off an eerie Lord energy," he said with a muffled smile.

Azrael shrugged it off. "Don’t talk about it."

Silence followed for a moment before Zephyr spoke again.

"Why do we not visit the Knight Order before leaving?" He asked.

"You always seem to read my mind," Azrael said, squinting slightly.

It had been on his mind to visit but he had not wanted to bring it up himself.

"We are perfectly matched," Zephyr said, leaning forward.

Azrael pushed him back before he could finish the sentence.

"We should find you a partner along the way. You are twenty already. You cannot keep living like this," Azrael said, walking past him.

Zephyr turned with an exasperated exhale.

"I do not think I am ready to deal with that level of stress yet," he replied.

Azrael smiled at that. "Thought it was just me."

Neither of them said anything more. They began walking through the estate.

The grounds were lined with several other castles, each one beautifully designed in its own right.

None of them matched the main castle, but they were regal nonetheless.

"That is my branch castle," Zephyr said, pointing toward one of the more refined ones as they passed.

Azrael nodded.

After walking for over thirty minutes, they finally reached the Knights Camp.

Even from a distance, the sound of clashing metal carried clearly.

Accompanied by scattered explosions.

A thick aura spread from the camp, dense enough to influence the surrounding environment.

"What are we actually going to do there?" Azrael asked suddenly, voicing the question neither of them had thought to address.

Zephyr stopped.

The question hit him at the same moment.

Both of them stood still, trying to think of a valid reason for the visit.

"Let us just explore. There is nothing wrong with looking around," Zephyr said with a shrug.

Azrael followed as they continued walking.

The sounds became sharper and more defined as they drew closer.

Soon the open field came into view, a stretch of land that extended further than their eyes could follow.

Spread across it were demons, each one clad in the same crimson armor that seemed to absorb the light around it.

They were divided into sections even within the camp as they trained.

Most of them used swords and occupied the center.

They swung horizontally, then transitioned into vertical slashes.

Each movement was flawless, as if it had been carved into their bodies over years of repetition.

Those with spears trained nearby.

Their thrusts were precise and fast.

Even aimed at empty space, the force behind each one was enough to demonstrate lethality.

Then the archers.

All of them released in unison as if guided by the same mind.

Thousands of arrows converged on a single point, punching a hole through a mountain sized dummy.

Then they scattered the next volley across the target’s entire frame.

Both of them could only stare.

"So this is the difference between a knight’s discipline and our own methods," Zephyr said, drawing in a slow breath.

Azrael nodded.

Just then, someone began walking toward them.

Crimson hair that ran down his back, stopping at his waist.

His eyes were so deeply crimson that the pupil had begun to disappear into the color.

He was also clad in crimson armor, but his had gold plated pads at the shoulders.

"To what do we owe this visit?" The man asked with a bow.

Although he appeared to address both of them, Zephyr understood clearly that the bow was directed only at Azrael.

"We only came to have a look around," Azrael replied with a casual wave.

The knight nodded. "I apologize, but the knight camp is closed until the weekend," he replied.

"Oh, why?" Azrael asked with furrowed brows.

He had heard, even if only in passing, that the knight camp was generally open to clan members.

What the knight was saying seemed to contradict that.

"I apologize, but I am not at liberty to share the details," the knight said with another bow.

"I suppose we came here for nothing," Azrael said, turning to Zephyr.

"Just take it as a stretch before we leave the estate," Zephyr replied with a shrug.

"Fair enough."

"Alistair," the voice came from behind.

The knight turned toward the source immediately.

He looked at the person who had spoken, waiting for further instruction.

The respect in his eyes was far beyond what he had shown while speaking to Azrael.

"Let them in," the person said, gesturing for Azrael and Zephyr to come.

The voice was cold and distant, as though Alistair barely registered as someone worth addressing directly.

Alistair did not argue. He stepped aside without a word.

But Azrael did not move. He sighed as he took in the person who had granted them entry.

"This is going to be complicated," he murmured.

"It seems you did not only lose your sense, you also lost the ability to walk," the person said, shooting Azrael a cold glance.

Zephyr stood quietly, watching the two siblings.

"Let us go," Azrael said, tugging lightly at Zephyr’s sleeve.

Zephyr nodded, falling into step behind him.

They reached the person shortly after.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Azrael asked.

The person did not respond immediately. He assessed Azrael for a moment longer before speaking.

"Dante is waiting for you."

With those words, he turned and walked deeper into the camp without looking back.

"The cold butcher," Zephyr said quietly, eyes wide.

Azrael only shook his head and followed after Sylas, pulling a still stunned Zephyr along with him.