{Chapter: 158: Suffer From Indecisiveness}
But the response he received was not the one he had hoped for.
The representatives listened with polite indifference, their faces more skeptical than concerned. Once he finished, the dwarf representative let out a casual chuckle, waving dismissively.
"Harun," the dwarf said, shaking his head, "you have to remember that every race occasionally births a genius. Demons are no exception. It's not exactly newsworthy when one or two demons outshine the rest of their kind."
He leaned back in his stone chair, arms crossed. "Now, about your claim that this demon lifted a slab of earth two thousand meters in diameter… Hah! That sounds more like a story for drunken evenings than a battlefield report."
He pointed a stubby finger. "Most mountains aren't even two thousand meters high. Mountains are conical. What you described is like lifting several whole mountains at once! You're telling me a [Middle Demon] did that with raw strength alone? Without enchantments, without spells? Come now."
He laughed again, but this time with a hint of challenge. "If a demon really had that kind of raw power, he wouldn't need any abilities at all. He could simply punch his way through legions of [Demigods] and destroy countries with thrown rocks."
Harun's expression tightened. He wanted to respond, to argue, but the logic, on the surface, wasn't wrong. It did sound exaggerated. Even to him. If he hadn't personally witnessed Dex effortlessly tear that colossal piece of land from the ground, he probably would have laughed too.
But he had seen it.
He had felt the tremors, the deafening sound of stone ripping from the earth, and the sheer pressure in the air.
Even if the object lifted was technically only half a sphere—since part of it had been buried—it was still unimaginably massive. Something that could have crushed dozens of adult dragons under its weight. If hurled from the skies, it could obliterate an entire city, maybe even a kingdom, in a matter of seconds.
He opened his mouth to speak, to reframe his words in a way that might be more believable, but before he could continue, a ripple of tension swept across the room.
Several of the gathered representatives received messages—urgent communications from their nations' demigods. That alone made the entire room shift in atmosphere. Such messages were rarely sent, and never for trivial matters.
With immediate seriousness, each representative opened their divine-linked scrolls, reviewing the contents carefully.
Even the dwarf sat up straighter, his earlier smugness replaced with wary attention.
After reading for a few seconds, the elven representative narrowed his eyes. He looked directly at Harun, his tone suddenly far more inquisitive.
"This demon you just described," the elf asked slowly, "would he happen to be humanoid in shape? With a handsome face? Wears red armor? About six meters tall, with strange flower-like patterns covering his whole body while body?"
Although he didn't fully understand why the elven representative—who had been disinterested just moments ago—had suddenly taken a keen interest in the discussion, the orc named Harun still answered truthfully, without hesitation:
"Yes, that's right. That matches the demon I was referring to."
"Then it has to be him," the elf representative muttered, frowning as he nodded solemnly. Turning to address the other delegates present in the large chamber, his voice grew more serious. "Lady Allison, who currently oversees battlefield support and healing logistics, recently received a high-priority distress call from Lord Emerson of the Dark Elf Clan. If she hadn't responded swiftly by deploying a death-substitute talisman, Lord Emerson might have perished on the spot."
The room went quiet as his words settled over them like a heavy fog.
"In the ensuing confrontation with the enemy," the elf continued, "despite holding the advantage in both level and numbers, both Lady Allison and Lord Emerson were forced into a desperate situation. They were overwhelmed, forced to issue a second call for backup just to keep the tide of battle from turning into complete disaster. The enemy they encountered… based on all the available descriptions, must have been the very same demon Harun just described."
The representative from the Dark Elf Clan, seated not far from the elf, slowly nodded in grim confirmation. "He's correct. The demon they encountered is the same one. Lord Emerson is in critical condition. One of his arms has been shattered beyond magical repair, and his internal organs sustained massive damage. He's currently lying in the Resuscitation Hall, where our high priests are working around the clock to stabilize his body and soul."
At that, a murmur of unease rippled across the assembly.
Not only were the gathered race representatives stunned by the revelation, even Harun himself—who had been the first to sound the alarm—found himself at a loss for words. He had only hoped to raise caution among the races' leaders, to warn them that a powerful demon was moving through their territories. He never imagined the demon was so strong that he could go toe-to-toe against two senior Demigods—and come out not only alive but victorious.
And not just any Demigods either.
Allison and Emerson were considered elites among their peers. Both hailed from noble bloodlines and had access to powerful, clan-guarded secret arts. Furthermore, each wielded a weapon specifically forged for Demigods—items of power that could tilt the balance of any battle. In most circumstances, they were more than enough to overwhelm any threat short of an actual god.
Yet now, both had been defeated. Overwhelmed. Humiliated.
That thought sent a cold chill crawling down Harun's spine.
'How did that demon let him escape the battlefield?' he wondered silently. 'If he was strong enough to beat both of them, why didn't he pursue and finish the job?'
'Could it be that the other party is too lazy to chase?'
Was he… sparing them? Or did he just not care enough to finish what he started?
Harun didn't believe for a moment that someone with that level of power would be incapable of interrupting his escape spell or teleportation technique. The only answer that made sense was that the demon had deliberately let him go.
He clenched his fists beneath the table.
After some fruitless thought, he turned around and listened to the discussions among the representatives of various races.
Meanwhile, the debate around the conference table resumed, the room now filled with tension and concern.
The elven representative leaned forward, voice grave. "Based on everything we've learned, it's no exaggeration to say that this so-called [Middle Rank Demon] poses a critical threat to the defensive line—especially now, during a period when the gods are forbidden from descending due to them busy battling demon lord Carto's direct army. What's most concerning is not only his current strength, but the potential. He's not even at the [Upper Demon] stage yet. Once he evolves to that level, I fear we may truly be powerless to contain him."
The Orc representative slammed his palm on the table, his voice booming through the hall. "Spare us the dramatics and just get to the point. What exactly are you suggesting?"
The elf narrowed his eyes but didn't react to the outburst. Instead, he calmly laid out his proposal, each word weighted with calculated precision:
"I propose that the only safe course of action is for Master Mester to personally intervene. We cannot take any more chances. With the help of the divine artifact in his possession, he should be able to eliminate the demon completely and prevent further escalation. The longer we wait, the greater the risk of catastrophe."
At the mention of Mester's name, the room went even quieter.
Master Mester was the most powerful being stationed along this entire defense line—a true juggernaut of war. As the direct descendant of one of the high gods, he alone had the qualifications to wield a divine weapon. However, the cost of using such a weapon was steep. Even Mester, with his god-blooded lineage, needed weeks of recuperation after each activation. Because of this, his presence was treated as the ultimate safeguard—an anchor that kept the tides of demonic invasions at bay.
Normally, Mester would only take action when the line itself was on the verge of collapse, not for threats that might become dangerous eventually.
And that was what troubled the representatives.
They all understood the risk. If this demon, as Harun had describe him—managed to evolve into a full [Upper Demon], it would be too late. By then, even a coordinated assault by a dozen Demigods might fail to subdue him. But at the same time, using a divine weapon during a demon tide against what was technically still a "Mid-Tier" threat felt like squandering a last resort.
Caught between caution and pragmatism, the room found itself split.
No one wanted to take the responsibility of delaying action and letting a disaster unfold, yet no one wanted to bear the guilt of wasting the artifact's power if the threat didn't fully materialize.
For a long moment, no one spoke, the weight of indecision sinking over them like a storm cloud gathering before the lightning.
*****
You can support me by joining my Patreon and get upto 60 chapters in advance.
patreon.com/Eden_Translation