Because of the recent attack, the little demon was frightened and clung constantly to his Papa, insisting on being with him wherever he went.

Eris was also deeply worried about the cub’s safety.

Previously, he had used seals to protect the unhatched Hilaire, but the seals were dissolved by the potion. He sought Greater Demons to protect Hilaire, only for them to be countered by Light Magic, which suppressed the demons.

It seemed there was nowhere safe in the entire Demon Realm.

Eris knew this couldn’t possibly be the angels’ doing; after all, angels were even more averse to war than they were. They were few in number; their entire population combined wasn’t even as large as the demon population of a small town in the Demon Realm.

Moreover, these angels held extreme respect for life and prided themselves on justice. Even if they had to fight, they would engage head-on, never resorting to such sneak attacks and schemes.

But that scroll was undeniably their creation. The angel race had to take responsibility for this.

While considering how to hold the angels accountable later, and investigating Harun’s recent whereabouts and the demons he had contacted, Eris was extremely busy, especially since the few Greater Demons who could help were recuperating.

When he was busy, he couldn’t hold the cub. The little demon would wrap his arms around his Papa’s neck himself, hanging onto him.

Despite his soft baby fat, his arm strength was quite remarkable; he could hang onto his Papa for a long time without moving, pretending to be an accessory.

Even when Eris needed to sign documents or write, he would obediently retract his wings to avoid disturbing his Papa.

He could now perfectly retract his wings into his body, but having gotten used to them, the little demon always felt strangely empty on his back. So, even though he couldn’t fly due to his weight, he only retracted his wings when sleeping.

When Eris finished his work and only the two of them remained, the little demon would roll his face all over his Papa, then whine affectionately in his milky voice, “Papa hold.”

Eris picked up the cub, bouncing him slightly higher. No longer needing to hang on himself, the little demon rested his head against his Papa’s neck, nestling quietly and dependently in his arms.

Because Hilaire needed to eat seven meals a day, a demon would naturally deliver food at mealtime. Seeing the various dishes on the table, the little fellow swallowed hard, turned his head, and started acting clingy and cute again. “Papa, feed.”

After turning one thousand and two, Hilaire could already feed himself. He wasn’t a picky eater, didn’t need other demons to feed him, could finish all his food nicely by himself, and wouldn’t even spill it everywhere.

But since the incident yesterday, he had become extremely pampered, insisting that his Papa feed him bite by bite.

When it was time for his afternoon nap, the little sticky bun retracted his wings, lay on the bed, blinked his eyes, and looked pitifully at Eris. “Papa, tuck me in.”

Eris was completely powerless against the little demon’s cute offensive, lying down beside him and gently patting him to sleep.

Hilaire initially lay properly beside him, covered with the small quilt Constans had made (imprinted with Hellhound patterns), clutching the edge of the quilt with both hands, smiling shyly at his Papa.

“Hilaire?” Eris called his name softly.

“Hmm?” The little demon tilted his head.

“Yesterday, did you absorb the magic from the scroll?”

The magic array drawn by angels was potent. During the war against the previous Demon King over a thousand years ago, it was precisely these arrays that restrained him, preventing their defeat.

Magic arrays only stopped functioning after the input magic was depleted; they couldn’t stop just because a cub poked them a few times.

Yesterday, the array only operated for a very short time before failing, likely because Hilaire absorbed the magic within it using the trident.

The little demon blinked, clutched his quilt, rolled over into his Papa’s arms, and nodded.

“Did you feel any discomfort after absorbing that magic?”

Because their race was unique, even Gorgon didn’t fully understand his and Hilaire’s physical condition. Sometimes, they could only rely on their own senses.

The little demon shook his head.

Patting the little quilt burrito in his arms, Eris said softly, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there when the danger happened yesterday.”

Hilaire squirmed upwards, pressing closer to his Papa. “It’s okay.”

“Hilaire was amazing, absorbing the magic and saving everyone.”

Hearing this, the little demon shyly buried his face in his Papa’s chest, unable to suppress the smile spreading across his lips.

“But,” Eris continued earnestly to his son, “next time, if you encounter danger, you mustn’t do that again. You must leave the dangerous place early.”

Hilaire looked up, confused and uncomprehending, at his Papa. “But… but everyone will be in danger.”

He meant that this time, when danger struck, he stayed behind and found a way to save everyone. But Papa told him to leave the dangerous place; what about the other demons, then? They would be in danger.

The light in the palace was dim. Eris’s dark golden vertical pupils seemed devoid of light, as if all emotion had been retracted, leaving only inorganic coldness. He wanted to say that in this world, only their family of three mattered most; other demons were irrelevant. Their duty was to protect Hilaire; if Hilaire had to save them every time, those demons were just burdens, unnecessary existences.

But looking down at the little one’s naive, big eyes, their warm, dazzling color like golden sunlight, he saw his rich emotional changes, saw how much he valued those demons who had watched him grow up from infancy.

Their worlds were different. Hilaire’s world was infinitely vast; he had many demons around him, would make more friends, many demons loved him, cared for him, cherished him, and Hilaire returned those feelings in kind.

But his world was small, only large enough to contain Euphemia and Hilaire.

“Hilaire is still a baby right now. Some dangers you can’t handle; trying will only make everyone worry. So, just protecting yourself is enough. Leave the rest for adult demons to handle. When you grow up, you can protect everyone,” Eris could only explain tactfully like this.

Papa said I’m still a baby!

The little demon, who considered himself quite mature (being one thousand and three, after all), happily wiggled his feet, his eyes sparkling.

He replied clearly and logically, “Okay! Then now everyone protects me, and later I protect everyone!”

“Mm.”

After a moment, the little demon looked up again. “I’ll protect Papa later too.”

Eris smiled slightly, smoothed down the little demon’s hair in his arms, then tucked him into the quilt properly. “Okay, Papa will wait for you to protect me.”

The little demon snuggled in his Papa’s arms for his afternoon nap. The tenderness on Eris’s face vanished, his brow slightly furrowed as he thought about what needed to be done next.

After waking up from his nap, the little demon wanted to go to Gorgon’s place to see the injured demons, but he didn’t want to leave his Papa.

So, he hugged his Papa’s leg, swaying back and forth, starting to act cute again. “Papa, carry me.”

Demon King Eris almost never refused any of the little demon’s requests. He knelt on one knee, letting his son climb onto his back, then carried him to Gorgon’s place.

Perched on his Papa’s back, Hilaire let his wings out and flapped vigorously. He thought being higher up might allow him to fly, but after flapping for a long time, he remained firmly planted on his Papa’s back, showing no sign of taking flight. The solid little weight could only silently retract his wings, pretending nothing had happened.

Several demons were at Gorgon’s. Besides Harun, the others weren’t severely injured, but healing burns caused by Light Magic was still somewhat troublesome. So, Gorgon was trying various potions on them, trying to find which could more quickly treat the damage caused by Light Magic.

When Hilaire arrived, the demons were in a state of utter dejection. That Gorgon fellow was simply insane, trying all sorts of weird potions on them.

Hilaire asked his Papa to put him down, then walked up to the demons, looking at their bandaged wounds, and asked with concern, “Does it hurt?”

Bode, who just moments ago was weakly claiming Gorgon was going to torture him to death, immediately grinned happily at Baobao. “Doesn’t hurt at all! I’m almost healed already!”

“But… you’re all wrapped up.” Hilaire looked at the slime before him, only his eyes visible through a slit. He was covered in white bandages; even his mouth couldn’t be seen.

“Exactly! Stop pretending!” Bazel chimed in, sounding amused but holding back his laughter, seeing Baobao’s worried expression, “Here, this is the old geezer’s new medicine. I’ll help you apply it.”

Bazel, who should have been in prison for another month, had been released early due to yesterday’s events. He was now also “helping” at Gorgon’s place, although mostly just making sarcastic remarks and taunts; it was hard to see how he was actually helping.

Bode was extremely reluctant. Not only did that Gorgon fellow concoct a dozen different medicines a day—some so foul-tasting they made him want to vomit, others itchy and painful when applied to wounds, making it feel like the injury was worsening instead of healing—but Bazel’s grip strength was too great!

When applying medicine, it felt like deliberate retaliation; his entire slime body was almost flattened by his large palm.

Constans had no flesh, so his bones just turned black. He watched the slime trying to escape Bazel’s back-facing approach and suddenly posed a question.

“Click clack?” Can’t any part of a slime regenerate?

Bode froze for a second, then his eyes widened in sudden realization. “That’s right! I can just cut off the injured part! Then my wound will be healed, and I won’t have to stay here! Aiya, you guys were all recuperating, I completely forgot I had that ability!”

He tore off all the bandages on his body. One could clearly see that the originally bouncy, moist skin on the blue slime’s head had turned black and wrinkled.

Bode used his own tentacle to pluck off the scorched part of his head, then strained hard. With a pop, the indented area returned to its original state.

“I’m all better now! Don’t need to apply medicine anymore!” Bode announced excitedly, then turned to Constans. “Thanks for reminding me!”

Constans nodded, taking a cloth to wipe his own bones. As he wiped, the black bones gradually turned white again. “Clack.” Me too.

Skeleton demons had strong recovery abilities; after all, they were just skeletons. Three years ago, Bazel’s dragon breath had only turned him black for a few days.

Now, the burns from Light Magic have similarly just turned him black. The inside of the bones would recover by the next day; he just needed to wipe off the surface black dust, and he was as good as new.

Bazel looked regretfully at the two fully healed demons, then turned his gaze towards Lance. “Hehe.”

Lance was utterly speechless. Those two guys’ abilities were truly monstrous! Such injuries healed in just a day? So only he, Nick, and Baph were seriously recuperating?

Seeing Bazel approaching with medicine, grinning menacingly, Lance backed away repeatedly. “Don’t you come near me! If you apply medicine, I’m as good as dead!”

The little demon stared at the ferocious/ugly dark scar on Lance’s face, furrowed his little brow, and advised, “You have to listen.”

Remembering Lance said it hurt earlier, the little demon looked towards Gorgon. “Grandpa Gorgon, is there medicine that doesn’t hurt?”

The hard-of-hearing Gorgon didn’t hear him, still chattering nonstop to the Demon King about Harun’s condition.

However, Eris heard his son’s voice, turned his head, and answered for him, “The angel race has potions specifically for healing these kinds of wounds. Their injuries will heal quickly.”

The little demon nodded, then parroted to Lance and Baph, “Your injuries will heal quickly.”

Afterward, Hilaire went to see Harun. He hadn’t woken up since yesterday, and his burns were indeed extremely severe. The little demon stood by the bed, tiptoe, looking at him, whispering, “When will Uncle Harun wake up?”

“Probably needs that angel potion too, right? His injuries are the worst, after all,” Bazel said.

Seeing Lance strongly resisting, he walked away with a dismissive pout and stood beside the little demon, staring at Harun together.

Because Harun’s injuries were too severe, Gorgon couldn’t examine him either. If he accidentally killed him, they wouldn’t be able to trace the clues. So now Gorgon was also waiting—waiting for the angels’ healing potion to cure Harun’s wounds so they could find out what exactly happened to him.

Hilaire wanted to touch Harun, but seeing him all charred black, the little demon didn’t dare move, afraid it would hurt him.

“Baobao isn’t scared?” Bazel looked at the little one, whose eyes were full of sympathy for Harun, wanting to touch but afraid to, and couldn’t help asking, “This guy tried to kill you yesterday.”

The little demon looked up, thought seriously for a moment. “Not scared. Everyone protects me.”

Eris glanced at him, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards slightly.

Bazel was utterly charmed by the cub’s serious and cute appearance, rubbing his head vigorously. “Right! I’ll protect you! Those others are useless! When trouble happens, you have to save them! How useless! If I had been there, I would have immediately turned into a dragon and flown you away!”

Bazel didn’t forget to throw shade at the other demons. Don’t think he didn’t know! These guys resented him for taking the cub to the tavern, which is why they got him thrown in prison!

And look, the moment he wasn’t around, trouble happened! Tsk tsk, clearly, they couldn’t manage without him.

Nick, lying on the bed, rolled his ringed eyes at Bazel. Because his skin was pitch black all over, the burns were completely invisible. So, Gorgon, unable to clearly see the wounds, had trussed him up like a mummy and thrown him onto the bed.

Crucially, the place he was lying was right next to several real mummies. That’s why Hilaire hadn’t noticed him at all earlier, thinking Nick wasn’t there.

Nick’s muffled voice came out, “Baobao, don’t listen to him. If danger strikes, he’d probably be the first to run away.”

Hilaire turned around, looked at the mummy on the bed, stunned for a moment before realizing who it was. “Nick!”

Saying his name, he couldn’t help but laugh. When he came in earlier, he saw the mummy lying on the bed and thought it was one of Grandpa Gorgon’s weird creations.

“Baobao, you finally see me! I thought you only saw Bode and Lance earlier!” The sourness in Nick’s voice was palpable.

Bode shuffled over, speechless. “Can you compare yourself to me? I’m a slime! Even tied up in bandages, you can still tell my shape! Now look at yourself! You look exactly like the mummies next to you! The only difference is probably that you’re breathing!”

Bode and Nick started bickering.

Hilaire walked over to Nick’s bed. “Nick, does it hurt?”

Nick, who seconds ago was arguing energetically with the slime, immediately lay down flat, weakly saying, “It still hurts a little.”

Bode: ???

“Then what should we do?” Hilaire believed him. “There’s no potion yet.”

“Just talking with Baobao makes it not hurt anymore. It’s mainly because I’m tied too tightly, I can’t move at all, even talking takes effort.”

Nick was indeed uncomfortable, not because of the wounds, but because the bandaging was too tight. Because it hurt too much when the medicine was first applied, Nick had tried to escape using his abilities, resulting in Gorgon tying him up like this.

Hilaire thought for a moment. “Then I’ll take care of you! Feed you, tell you stories, and tuck you into sleep!”

“Thank you, Baobao.”

Nick was feeling touched when Bazel appeared menacingly from behind. “You think it hurts? Good thing you said so! Let me help you apply medicine!”

The demons started messing around. Bazel jumped onto the bed, pinning Nick down, wanting to “help” him apply medicine. The resisting Nick was then held down by the slime.

The little demon, initially worried, realized they were just playing around and started laughing too.

This scene was very familiar. Ever since the little demon hatched, these demons had been fighting. Each time, the tiny cub would laugh and cheer them on. It was the same now; watching them fight made his eyes sparkle.

Yesterday’s events had left a shadow on the cub. These demons were also using their own way to cheer Hilaire up.

While the palace was filled with noisy commotion, a pitch-black crow, following the Demon King’s aura, flew in from outside the palace. It held a letter in its beak, flew straight to the Demon King, delivered it, and then landed on the palace courtyard wall.

Hilaire waved at the crow. “Roan, hi!”

The crow spoke in human language, “Greetings, Little Prince.”

This crow was named Roan, also a subordinate of Demon King Eris. Although he had no humanoid form and looked just like a crow, he was indeed a real demon, mainly responsible for relaying the Demon King’s commands. Because his flock was vast, he sometimes also performed reconnaissance work.

There was a barrier between the Demon Realm and the Celestial Realm. Neither side could cross without permission. Currently, only the little white bird raised by the Celestial Realm, having obtained the Demon King’s permission, could fly freely between the two realms.

If the Demon King had any message to convey to the Celestial Realm, he would first tell Roan. Roan would naturally find the little white bird, relay the message to it, and it would then transmit it to the Archangel.

As for why Roan could always quickly and accurately find the little white bird flitting around the Demon Realm gathering news?

The crows blush shyly: Because they are in love.

Eris looked at the envelope before him. The pristine white envelope was also solemnly sealed with wax. He opened it and found the letter inside was thick, at least eight or nine pages long.

Skimming through it, although the angels’ wording was complex, long-winded, and extremely tactful and restrained, the underlying message between the lines seemed to be vehemently screaming that they really hadn’t done anything.

It then provided a detailed analysis of the scroll’s origin, concluding it was lost during the war between the two realms over a thousand years ago.

In short, regarding the attack, it absolutely wasn’t their doing.

Eris saw no useful information; those angels strictly avoided mentioning any compensation for the demons burned by Light Magic. Since that was the case, he would just have to visit them personally to demand compensation.

Besides, knowing Hilaire was unharmed by Light Magic and could even absorb it gave him an idea, which now required verification on the angels’ territory.