The Second Son of the Marquis Wants to Laze Around-Chapter 126: Are You Really a Demon?

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"!!" 𝒻𝑟𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝑛𝘰𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝘤𝘰𝘮

Suddenly, Eren paused his game. His eyes lit up with realization, as if he’d just remembered something very important.

"Now that you’re here..." he mumbled, slowly sitting up from his comfy bed.

His eyes locked onto Seraphina, gleaming with a strange sense of interest.

Seraphina instinctively stiffened. For some reason, his sudden shift in mood sent chills down her spine.

"Come over here," he said, patting the soft bed beside him. "It’s time for you to help your master with his needs."

His voice was low and calm, unnervingly serious.

Seraphina’s eyes widened in alarm before narrowing in disgust.

’So he’s finally showing his true colors...’

She gritted her teeth. Of course. Of course he would end up using her as a tool for his pleasures, like those wretched nobles in both the demon realm and the human world. There was no difference.

She had expected this—prepared herself mentally for it. She was his contract slave, after all. She had no choice but to obey his commands.

But just because she expected it... didn’t mean it didn’t disgust her to the core.

In the end, no matter where you went—demon realm or human lands—the strong always took advantage of the weak and the helpless. That was a universal truth.

Eren’s voice snapped her out of her dark thoughts.

"What are you waiting for?" he asked in that same cold tone.

Biting back her emotions, Seraphina lowered her gaze, shadows covering her eyes as she reluctantly stepped toward him, resigned to fulfill her duties.

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Minutes later.

Eren was sprawled across his bed, holding his game console up with both hands while letting out a satisfied groan.

"Oi! Be gentle, you foxy brute," he grumbled, glancing down at the demon girl beside him.

"..."

Seraphina said nothing. Her face was unreadable as she knelt on top of the bed, next to his legs that was resting on top of a thick pillow, fingers rhythmically pressing into the soles of Eren’s feet.

That’s right.

She was giving him a foot massage.

Not something lewd. Not some twisted act of servitude like she had braced herself for.

Just... a foot massage.

When he’d asked her to "come onto the bed" earlier, she had expected the worst. She thought she’d have to endure some shameful act, just like those stories she’d heard of nobles and their slaves.

But no.

He just wanted her to massage his feet while he gamed.

Her face was pitch black with frustration, her expression as stiff as a marble statue as her fingers continued their mechanical movements.

To her, this was still incredibly humiliating.

’I was a Demon Lord. A ruler feared by all... and now I’m a damn foot servant to a lazy human?!’

Her thoughts seethed with rage, but she held her tongue.

’I swear on my blood... When I break free of this contract—’

"By the way," Eren suddenly muttered, interrupting her vengeful internal monologue.

She flinched and looked up at him, alert.

He didn’t look back. The game console still covered most of his face.

"Are you really a demon?"

His unexpected words froze her.

"...What?"

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Meanwhile, in the Demon Realm

Location: The Main Temple of Fulcier

Within the vast, shadow-drenched halls of the Temple of Fulcier, silence reigned. The grand cathedral-like structure was built from obsidian-black stone, jagged and ancient, echoing with a foreboding power that had weathered countless ages. Crimson torches burned dimly along the towering walls, their flames casting dancing shadows that flickered like ghostly figures.

At the far end of the temple stood the main altar—a massive statue of the Goddess Fulcier, carved from blackened onyx, her figure tall and regal. She was portrayed as a beautiful woman cloaked in layered robes of jagged stone, with six long arms stretching outward, each holding a different cursed relic: a dagger, a book, a chain, a crown, a scale, and a lantern of souls. Her expression was cold, unreadable, her eyes blindfolded with flowing stone ribbons.

Before the altar knelt the High Pope of Fulcier.

Cloaked in a deep black robe with crimson rune markings etched around the collar and sleeves, he knelt with his head bowed low and his hands clasped in prayer. Unlike the churches of humans or the other races, the followers of the demon goddess wore full-body hooded cloaks that obscured their identities completely. Only the Pope’s distinguished attire hinted at his authority.

–Shhhff–

A faint flutter echoed through the air—the sound of wings slicing the silence.

The Pope slowly raised his head, face still hidden beneath the hood’s darkness. His voice was deep, raspy, like a whisper dragged through molten gravel.

"Report."

From the shadows behind him, a figure materialized and dropped to one knee. The newcomer was a vampire-like demon, pale-skinned with sharp crimson eyes and long black hair tied into a low ponytail. He wore a skin-tight black battle suit beneath a high-collared cloak, his very presence radiating quiet lethality.

"We’ve investigated the chamber... just as you instructed."

The Pope remained silent, sensing hesitation in the man’s voice. His tone grew colder.

"And?"

The vampire demon lowered his head further. "We... found nothing."

A pause. Then a slow rise from the Pope, still facing the statue.

"...What do you mean, nothing?"

The subordinate flinched. "The chamber... it’s gone. Destroyed."

The Pope’s eyes gleamed red beneath his hood.

"...What?"

With a sudden burst of pressure, a wave of demonic energy flared out, pressing down on the vampire demon. The air thickened, warping with malice. The subordinate began to tremble under the suffocating weight of his master’s power.

"Explain," the Pope growled.

This all stemmed from an incident nearly a month ago.

At that time, a magical trap was triggered near the artificial dungeon known as the Aberration Trial—one of the hidden dungeon used for extremely dangerous trials and high-level containment. The trap itself was a high-grade teleportation seal connected to the Abyss Prison—the deepest level of confinement under the Church’s authority.

If triggered, the trap would instantly transport the intruder to the lowest sealed cell deep beneath the abyss, where no one could escape.

Yep. it was the same trap that Eren had noticed.

Had the boy stepped on it, he would have been instantly warped into the sealed hell chamber designed for eternal imprisonment.

It was a defense system—an extremely stupid one in Eren’s opinion. Who the hell places a visible teleportation trap right at the dungeon entrance without camouflaging it?

Regardless, back then the Pope ignored the triggered trap. He assumed it was a random fool who had wandered too close and gotten themselves trapped. Not worth his time.

That changed today.

Just earlier, the Pope felt a sudden disruption—a break in the flow of demonic energy that had been siphoning into the temple from a distant seal. A very specific one: the ancient sealing magic cast to imprison and drain the former demon lord—Seraphina.

The energy link was gone.

Alarmed, he dispatched his agents to check the Abyss Prison and confirm what had happened. And now...

"...Repeat what you just said," the Pope hissed, barely restraining his fury.

The kneeling demon swallowed hard. "The chamber and the entire Abyss Prison... were destroyed. Reduced to rubble."

–BOOOOOM!!–

A second, more violent burst of demonic pressure exploded outward from the Pope. The walls of the hall cracked. The torches flickered and spat sparks. The kneeling demon clutched his throat, floating slightly in the air, an invisible grip choking the life out of him.

"HOW CAN IT BE DESTROYED?!"

The subordinate struggled, gasping between coughs. "W-we don’t know...! The entire site was in ruins when we arrived!"

He continued explaining between breaths. Their team investigated and scanned the area. The destruction had come from a large explosion, but no traces of mana or magical residue were found—confirming it wasn’t caused by magic.

Who wonders what or how that happened there~

Eventually, the Pope released his grip, letting the demon fall to the ground, coughing and gasping for air. The rage still burned in the Pope’s eyes, but now he was thinking.

’Let’s piece it together.’ He thought.

Someone triggered the trap at the dungeon entrance.

That person should have teleported to the Abyss Prison.

Now, nearly a month later, the prison is gone.

And the seal draining Seraphina’s energy has disappeared.

Which means she’s escaped.

He clenched his fists, realization dawning.

There’s no way Seraphina could have escaped that place on her own. She was chained by the strongest magic spell they had, her powers sealed, her body weakened. The only possibility was...

Someone helped her.

And not just anyone. Whoever it was had to be at least a level 5—or even a level 6 Awakened. That much power was needed to destroy the prison and help her escape.

How did the Pope come up with this conclusion?

That’s because the Aberration Trial was no ordinary place. Originally a natural dungeon, it had been altered and modified into an artificial trial site by the very first demon lord. Its structure, its spawns—everything had been adjusted to test or destroy strong individuals. Its monsters were all level 4 and 5 or higher.

No one but a single individual could enter that dungeon at a time.

That’s why Seraphina had been placed there. Sealed. Forgotten. Broken.

Until now.

The Pope’s eyes narrowed.

Not only had she escaped, but something—or someone—had also managed to destroy the Abyss Prison itself. Somehow.

The prison was also a place that houses thousands of mutated monsters that were experimented... decades of hidden research and secret—

’Wait?’

His eyes snapped to the vampire demon still kneeling and catching his breath.

"What happened to the monsters in the prison?"

The demon stiffened. His voice faltered as his eyes turn to the side. "They... some were killed in the blast. But most... escaped."

A pause.

Then—

–BOOOOOOOM!!!–

Another explosion of demonic energy erupted in the cathedral. The ground cracked. Dust fell from the ceiling.

"ARE YOU &#¥*€ KIDDING ME!?!?"

The shout echoed through the hall like a roaring thunderstorm.

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