Imp to Demon King: A Journey of Conquest

Undercurrents rocked Foliaris' foundations for the next two days as Kyriakos visited the few loyal friends he still had. Although they asked to meet with Luna, he talked them out of this idea and convinced them to rally his cause.

With three more nobles and after emptying his pockets to hire mercenaries and rogues covertly, he now had around seven hundred soldiers under his command—a ridiculous number that kept him awake the entire night.

Even now, his three friends glared at him, the rising sun illuminating the dark circles puffing their worried eyes.

He inhaled the fresh morning air and raised his palms to comfort them.

"I know we have no chance against four thousand trained soldiers. But don't forget most of Foliaris' population lives on the outskirts." He pushed Jean's shop open, hope swelling in his heart.

Yet, his eyes widened when he only saw a crying man, Luna, and two hooded individuals examining a map over the counter.

"W-Where are the others?" He stuttered, despair twisting his lips. "Please, don't tell me Xanthikos' men caught them."

A smile tugging at her lips, Luna shook her head while Garduck's guttural voice reverberated.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"On their way." He gazed at the map one last time before he rolled it and removed his long coat, followed by Bart. "We're ready."

Luna chuckled at the trio's gaping mouths and the instinctual terror making them tremble as they observed their red horns and intricate leather armor pulsing with demonic energy. But the clock ticked.

Without wasting a second, they crossed the door, gesturing for the newcomers to follow.

They walked to the edges of the commercial district, unbothered by Xanthikos' spies reporting their movements. Instead, they smirked, wishing to see the fury distorting his face as he learned about their presence and the unstoppable uprising.

Meanwhile, doubt's ravenous fangs sank into Kyriakos' heart. How many citizens would join them? Did they arm them, or would they fight with hoes and kitchen knives?

As he doubted, the ground stole his attention. He could swear it vibrated slightly. His eyes narrowed down, dust and stones bouncing more with each second crawling by. His head snapped up the next second, a distant emotion-filled hymn overwhelming the cacophony of footsteps.

And soon, his pupils constricted as he watched thousands of citizens sing their hopes to strike the tyrant down. The clamor of their drums shattered his eardrums as their united song made his heart pound.

Like a human wave, they marched to him, his family's blazon fluttering on worn sheets and raised in makeshift banners.

Luna's amused voice brought him out of his shock as she chuckled.

"You didn't tell me about your ancestor, Kyriakos," she said, her voice lingering with intrigue for a second. "Or should I call you Kyriakos Foliaris, descendant of the eastern pioneer and this city's first lord?"

He coughed and shrugged.

"I'm unworthy of that name." Yet, his lips trembled as his chest warmed. "Thank you..." He retrieved his family brooch, a heart surrounded by a fireplace, and pinned it to his toga. "For giving me a chance to wear it proudly."

His eyes narrowed on the enchanted armors glinting on the citizen's rickety body, then at the crying Jean.

Bart followed his gaze and rolled her eyes, unwilling to hear his complaints again.

"Let's move out." He pointed at the citizens. "They know what to do, Kyriakos. You follow them and enjoy the spectacle while we end this farce once and for all."

Without waiting for his answer, he blurred into action, followed by Garduck and Luna.

Left with his three friends and the halting uprising's army, he closed his eyes and exhaled. Determination ignited when he reopened them as his fist pierced the air and his voice thundered.

"Let's reclaim our city! Let's kill Xanthikos!"

The thousands of men and women roared in answer, the air trembling as one of his friends leaned and whispered.

"I can't believe my eyes. They gathered half the slums. We're over nine thousand!"

Kyriakos observed their faces and the steely glints flashing in their eyes, ignoring him. Numbers didn't matter anymore, nor did his origins. Now, he felt like one of them—just a man taking arms to reclaim his future.

Emboldened by the commotion, he pointed his finger at the distant inner walls and roared.

"March!"

With the echo of their hymn, horrified citizens jumped from their beds to watch them through the windows. Their fists trembled when they heard the mix of vengeful and hopeful lyrics. But more importantly, they gritted their teeth at the sight of their companions fighting for their futures.

Men left their wives and gazed at their children tenderly before they joined the rebels. Knife in hand, women traumatised by the ever-spreading insecurity lunged through their doors. Like a snowball rolling down a mountain, the more the rebels' ranks grew, the more people joined them.

Horrified by the numbers, the soldiers scrambled behind the inner walls, seeking protection and their superiors' commands.

But even they stood rooted as almost a third of the city threatened to collapse on them... meaning they'd lose around seventeen thousand citizens. The thought alone caused them to bite their lip in frustration. Yes, mere frustration, not sadness. After all, who would they exploit if so many died in a single day?

Still, they raised their arms, barking commands left and right as soldiers rushed out of the barracks to reinforce the walls.

Pristine cannons rumbled, mana wafting from their reddening mouths as they mercilessly aimed.

BOOM

They fired without warning, a volley of multicolored lights whistling at Kyriakos and the trembling citizens.

Teeth gritted, he clenched a palm-sized stone. Feeling the flames etched on its smooth surface, he raised it toward the volley.

"I won't let my heart or home falter! Hearthwarden!"

The stone glowed before a pair of translucent divine hands formed and embraced them warmly—just before they suffered from the bombardment.

The deafened citizens gazed at the elemental firework exploding overhead before they roared with double the passion.

"Hestia protects us. Fight for righteousness!"

Kyriakos watched them rush to the wall fearlessly, snickering at the dimming stone.

"Humph. It was its last use. Just a token granted to my ancestor when he expanded her territory eastward." He threw it to the ground, stomping forward to join them. "It's not gods I believe in, but those who act!" Experience exclusive tales on empire