Devil Slave (Satan system)-Chapter 1202: The Elven King

As the crowd watched, a ripple of surprise and unease passed through them, their faces twisted in disapproval and uncertainty toward Enel’s unexpected victory.

Tension thickened in the air, murmurs rising like a wave of dissent.

But then, the Queen lifted her hand with a graceful wave, and the grand luxury box she stood in began to descend, connecting seamlessly with the stage.

The shimmering aura of magic accompanied her descent, commanding the attention of all present.

She moved with practiced poise, her elegant gown trailing like liquid silver. When she finally stood before Enel, a faint, approving smile touched her lips.

"Well done," she said, her voice carrying a smooth, almost chilling calm. "Although I didn’t expect so much bloodshed… you did great."

Enel’s brow furrowed slightly, uncertain if her approval was genuine or something more layered, but before he could respond, she reached forward, placing a gentle hand atop his head.

In that instant, a brilliant, golden mark glowed upon her forehead—a symbol ancient and powerful, more than a mere rune. It was a Law, one with authority dating back through countless High Elf rulers.

The moment the crowd noticed, gasps filled the arena, and one by one, they fell to their knees, the whispers rippling through them, "The Command Law of the High Elves…" Awe-stricken voices shared this truth, resonating with reverence. The Command Law had been passed down from ruler to ruler—a mark of absolute authority, binding both loyalty and fear.

Enel’s heart raced as he tried to voice his concern. "Shouldn’t this be done as a separate ceremony...!?" But the Queen’s fingers found his lips, silencing him with a gentle hush.

She leaned close, her voice dropping to a private whisper that only he could hear.

Whatever she said made him pause, and he glanced around before giving a slow, respectful nod, taking a knee in formal recognition before her.

"Besides, my time is due!" She added.

With a serene smile, she touched his head once more, and the same golden mark of Command appeared on Enel’s forehead.

A surge of intense power flooded through him, an ancient force of authority that coursed through his veins like liquid fire, binding him to a legacy far older and more profound than he had ever known. The sheer weight of it took his breath away, but he steadied himself, meeting her gaze.

The Queen’s eyes softened as she regarded him. "It’s now your turn," she said, her voice tender yet edged with a strange sadness. "Please, do not leave them. I know you have a far greater destiny ahead of you, but I am an old vine, empty of fresh wine, and while they are old, a new bottle will give them a new brand..."

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Then, as her words faded into the air, her elegant form began to shift, her skin paling, her youthful face drawing inward as her body slowly aged in front of him. Before anyone could process what was happening, her frame crumbled into dust, her majestic gown pooling in the silence that followed.

The crowd collectively gasped, staring in disbelief as the remnants of their Queen settled to the ground, leaving only a shimmering memory of her once-regal form.

For a brief, tense moment, silence filled the arena as the crowd stood, uncertain of what to do. The weight of the situation settled over them—Enel, who was not even a High Elf, now held the Command Token of their race and the Queen’s favor. Disbelief spread across faces, and an undercurrent of suspicion sparked in the crowd. Then, someone cried out, "Blasphemy!" and soon another joined, "Heresy!"

A surge of unrest rippled through the stadium, breaking into a riot as some called for Enel to submit the Token, while others screamed that he was a heretic and should be killed. Even the elders, outraged and insulted, joined in the call for his punishment.

But then, Enel raised his hand, and instantly the ancient runes woven into the structure of the stadium responded, casting an intense glow. In that moment, everyone felt their power drain, as if an unseen force was drawing it from them. Their strength sapped, they were pulled down to their knees. Silence fell abruptly, stunned faces looking up at Enel with a mix of fear and awe.

Enel’s voice boomed, resonating with authority. "You fools," he began, his tone cold with disdain. "Here I thought the High Elves, with all their glory and pride, possessed common sense. But all I see are incredible fools." He gestured to the dust where the Queen’s remains lay. "Has any of you truly considered why it was that the Queen allowed me—one without High Elven blood—to compete for such an important position?"

The crowd remained silent, staring as Enel continued. "I may not be of elven blood, but I was born here, raised here. I ate the same food, spoke your language, bathed under the same sun." He lifted his hand, pointing toward the dim, fading light of their underground haven. "For all your pride, you hide from the demons who stole your true home, cowering here underground like rats. You call yourselves High Elves?" His words cut through them with merciless precision. "More like high fools. Look around you—have you forgotten what you once were? Are you not tired of this existence? Ashamed, even?"

A murmur went through the crowd, an elder breaking the silence with an indignant shout. "What do you know? You weren’t there when the demons took our lives, when we lost it all! If the Queen, in her wisdom, had not—"

Enel interrupted, his voice firm. "Exactly! The Queen, in her wisdom, gave me the throne as your king, and yet you doubt her judgment?" The elder fell silent, his words halted as Enel’s conviction settled upon their hearts. "I may not have High Elven blood, but I am one by heritage and tradition. And I know that it is time we take back what they took from us—the world that was once ours. To face the demons and reclaim our rightful place."

Enel’s words stirred a fire in their spirits, and the crowd’s cries began to shift, raw pride and defiance rising in a single chant of his name, their voices a thunderous affirmation of his vision.

While Enel’s rallying speech filled the arena, Nate, his eldest brother, began moving subtly, eyes narrowed as he watched for a chance to disrupt. Enel caught sight of this out of the corner of his eye but kept his focus steady, ignoring the elder’s maneuvering for the time being.

"We are going to take the fight to the Royal Demons!" Enel declared, his words charging the crowd with purpose. Their chant swelled, their voices united with newfound fervor.

Suddenly, a heart-wrenching scream pierced the air, and all eyes turned to its source—Luca. His face was twisted in pain and fury as he stared at Allison, who now stood calmly behind Enel.

"Why? Why?" Luca’s voice broke, his hand pointing accusingly at Allison, agony etched into every word. "I gave you everything. I loved you… tell me why!" His gaze was fierce, his eyes brimming with tears that threatened to spill. "I would give anything to have you—to be yours! My life, my princehood, anything…"

Allison’s face remained unmoved, calm but unyielding. Her voice was firm as she answered, "I always wondered why I was drawn to you yet never marked you as my mate. But I don’t blame you, Luca. Fate had long seen that I would birth my own future." She turned her gaze to Enel, her eyes softening with a love both fierce and protective. "Even when I tried to escape my destiny, he found me. Like you, I would give the world for him."

A look of betrayal, sorrow, and rage overtook Luca’s face as his gaze turned back to Enel, and in a surge of unrestrained emotion, his magic flared—a fierce, glowing red energy from nowhere enveloping him. With a scream, he leapt forward, his power radiating dangerously as he attempted to strike Enel down...