Reincarnation of Nikola Tesla in another world-Chapter 29: cursed gifts

The Demon Kingdom stretched far beyond the horizon, its darkened lands untouched by time. Vast, towering spires loomed over the capital, their jagged peaks clawing at the blood-red sky. From the highest fortress, the rivers of molten rock that cut through the streets looked like veins of fire, pulsing with an ancient power that kept the city alive.

Lilith moved past the massive gates of blackened steel, her boots dragging slightly as she forced herself forward. The infernal wind howled against her exposed wounds, but she paid it no mind. There was no room for weakness here.

The great doors of the Demon King's hall creaked open before her, revealing the vast throne chamber within. The room was built to intimidate, its walls adorned with banners of past conquests, colossal statues of former rulers standing as eternal sentinels. Braziers of blue fire cast flickering shadows along the stone, their glow making the chamber feel alive.

At the far end of the hall, seated upon his throne of cold black metal, was the Demon King.

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His golden irises gleamed from beneath the weight of his crown, his expression unreadable as he gazed down at his daughter. There was no warmth in his posture, no concern for her tattered state—only expectation.

Lilith dropped to one knee, pressing her fist against her chest.

"Your Highness," she said, her voice steady despite the weight of her failure pressing down on her shoulders.

The courtiers and succubi surrounding the throne exchanged curious glances, murmuring amongst themselves. Lilith could feel their eyes on her, their amusement at her broken state.

The Demon King lifted a single hand.

Without hesitation, the lesser demons scattered, their whispers vanishing into the darkness of the chamber.

Only one figure remained, lingering near the exit—Grogar, the Lich King. The towering undead necromancer stood motionless, his armor wrapped in a cold, eerie presence. He did not speak, nor did he step forward, merely watching from the edges of the throne room.

The Demon King exhaled, tapping his fingers against the armrest of his throne.

"You were sent to investigate the child," he said, his voice calm, measured.

Lilith hesitated for only a moment before bowing her head lower. "I was, my lord. But... I failed."

A silence heavier than iron filled the room.

Then, the Demon King chuckled softly.

"Then I assume the fool who dared to harm you was swiftly slaughtered," he mused. "Perhaps you drank his blood in salute to your victory?"

Lilith clenched her jaw.

"...No, your highness."

A pause.

Then, for the first time, the Demon King's golden eyes flickered with something new—interest.

"You were defeated," he said, more a statement than a question.

Lilith lowered her gaze. "Yes, my lord."

The Demon King studied her, his gaze unreadable. Then, slowly, a small smile touched his lips.

"Do not concern yourself," he said. "Heroes are no match for you now. But train enough, and you may even surpass them."

Lilith swallowed but nodded. "Yes, my lord."

The Demon King leaned forward slightly. "Tell me, then. how was the anomaly?"

Lilith took a breath before answering.

"His mana felt... alien," she said, choosing her words carefully. "Unlike anything I have ever encountered."

The Demon King's expression shifted slightly. "Alien?"

Lilith nodded. "When he wanted to blend in, he seemed normal. But when he fought..." She hesitated. "His mana engulfed the entire surroundings, warping the air itself. It did not behave like magic as we know it."

The Demon King tilted his head, listening.

"He injured a griffin," she continued, "with nothing but a lowly fire spell. And he survived a fall from the sky with nothing but a broken leg."

The Demon King's fingers stopped tapping.

His lips curled into a slow, amused smile.

Lilith reached into her belt, pulling out a slightly crumpled piece of parchment. She stepped forward, presenting it.

"This," she said, "was inscribed by him."

The Demon King took the parchment, unfolding it with an almost casual motion. His golden eyes flickered as he examined the detailed schematic—a drawing unlike anything found in the Demon Kingdom.

Lilith remained silent as he studied it.

"It has traces of mana infusion," she explained. "But the writings were done with nothing but a low-grade pencil."

The Demon King exhaled, his amusement growing.

"A human, with an unknown mana signature... creating something like this," he murmured.

He set the parchment aside, his expression unreadable. Then, after a moment, he turned back to her.

"And this human," he mused, "what does he desire?"

Lilith hesitated. "That... I do not know, my lord."

"Even more interesting."

He leaned back, golden eyes gleaming in the dim light.

"But that is enough for now," he said. "You fought well, even in failure."

He stood, stepping forward, his towering presence casting a long shadow over her.

"I noticed something missing," he said.

Lilith tensed.

He noticed.

"The obsidian sword I granted you," the Demon King continued. "It is gone."

Lilith forced herself to remain still.

Instead of disappointment, her father exhaled softly. "Perhaps it is for the best," he mused. "It was never meant to be your final blade."

With a simple motion, a massive black coffin was brought forth by unseen hands. The air grew dense as it touched the ground, its surface pulsing with faint crimson veins.

Lilith knew what this was.

The Sacrificial Blade of the Forsaken. The Void Piercer

A weapon forged through the sacrifice of 999 virgins. A blade of hunger, bound in whispers and death.

The coffin lid creaked open.

Inside, resting upon a velvet bed, was the sword. Its dark metal surface seemed to swallow the light, veins of red magic pulsing faintly along its length.

Lilith stepped forward, reaching for it.

The moment her fingers brushed the hilt, the air shifted.

The torches dimmed. The shadows leaned in. The world itself whispered.

You are worthy.

A chill ran through her spine, though she did not let go.

She saw flashes—visions of long-dead warriors, their voices screaming, their souls consumed.

Accept me.

Lilith inhaled sharply. Her grip tightened.

The sword stilled. The voices faded.

It had chosen her. she had chosen it.

The Demon King smiled. "Good. Take it, rest, and regain your strength."

Lilith nodded, stepping back. She had no doubts now.

As she turned and walked toward the great doors, the Demon King dismissed the court.

As she stepped past the threshold, she barely noticed the figure lingering near the exit.

"How was he like?"

Lilith stopped.

She turned, eyes meeting the one who spoke.

Grogar, the Lich King.

Her uncle.

A small smile tugged at her lips. "Uncle Grogar."

She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his armored frame.

The skeletal necromancer let out a low chuckle, resting a heavy gauntlet on her shoulder.

"So?" he repeated. "How was he like? The one you are infatuated with"

Lilith hesitated, her expression shifting slightly.

"...He was strong," she admitted.

Grogar hummed. "Stronger than you?"

Lilith clenched her jaw before nodding. "Yes."

Grogar tilted his head slightly. "And? How did it feel?"

Lilith exhaled. "Like being reminded that I am not the strongest."

Grogar let out a soft, amused breath. "Good," he said. "It is a lesson we all learn, sooner or later.He wasn't a hero, was he?"

"no" she replied in frustration, " grand wizard he said"

He patted her head, then gestured toward the courtyard. "Ah Vaqihr. He is with a good conscience so he left you alive. But don't look so grim. I have a surprise for you."

Lilith raised an eyebrow. "Surprise?"

Grogar grinned. "I revived a dragon from the Dark Ages. It's waiting for you outside."

Lilith's eyes widened.

A dragon.

Her exhaustion disappeared in an instant.

"That's why you're the best!" she grinned, running past him, all thoughts of her battle fading away.