Reincarnated as the Demon King's Son

Chapter 744 744 Uninvited Guest

744 Chapter 744 Uninvited Guest

"No. I almost destroyed it," Aldred said.

As Aldred steadied himself, leaning heavily on Rayanor and Shuzib for support, his mind was awash with introspection. The weight of what he had nearly done – the annihilation of an entire planet – was a stark reminder of the immense responsibility that came with wielding such extraordinary power. He realized that with every action, there was a potential for irreversible consequences.

"I must learn to control this power, not just wield it," Aldred murmured, his voice tinged with a newfound solemnity. "Next time, I might not be able to fix what I break."

Rayanor nodded in agreement, a serious look in his eyes. "Power like this… it's a double-edged sword. Be cautious, Aldred."

Shuzib added, "Your intentions are noble, but the path you tread is perilous. Remember, with great power comes great responsibility."

"That's such a clique thing to say. But yeah." Aldred looked up at the restored star, its light now a symbol of both his potential and his limitations. "I will remember this lesson," he vowed quietly.

Meanwhile, in a bustling pub located in a distant system, Francus and Grigor sat at a corner table, their faces lit by the dim glow of the establishment's vintage lighting. The atmosphere was filled with the murmur of conversations and the clinking of glasses, a stark contrast to the tension and battles they faced in the war against the demons.

Grigor took a sip of his drink, his gaze distant. "Zelthrax… she's unlike any foe we've faced. Our strategies need to evolve."

Francus nodded, swirling his drink contemplatively. "Agreed. It's not just about firepower anymore. It's about understanding the enemy, anticipating her moves."

Their conversation was interrupted as a mercenary from the Celestial Platoon entered the pub. The man, clad in armor marked with the insignia of the Platoon, approached Francus and Grigor with a respectful nod.

"Commanders Francus and Grigor," the mercenary greeted, pulling up a chair. "I heard about the supply transport mission. I'm sorry for your loss. Losing allies is never easy."

The mercenary was called Rael. He was actually a very powerful combatant in Celestial Platoon. One time, after his squad was massacred he protected an entire city on his own.

Francus offered a grim smile. "Thank you. It's part of the job, but it doesn't make it any easier. How's your squad holding up?"

The mercenary sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We're managing The mercenary sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We're managing. The front lines are tough, but we're holding our ground. Hearing about Aldred's feats gives us hope, though. If anyone can turn the tide, it's him."

Grigor raised an eyebrow. "You believe in him that much?" He said that but Grigor believed in Aldred the most.

The mercenary nodded earnestly. "After what he did on the Orion Nebula? Absolutely. The man's a legend."

Francus let out a low chuckle. "I suppose he is. But even legends have their limits. Let's hope he finds a way to beat Zelthrax without crossing his own."

In the dimly lit pub, the clinking of glasses and low hum of conversations created a backdrop to the earnest discussion at Francus and Grigor's table. The mercenary, momentarily distracted by a call from across the room, turned and acknowledged the shout with a nod and a brief wave.

"Hey, Rael! Keep up the good work out there," shouted a fellow patron, raising his glass in salute.

Rael, the mercenary, offered a quick, acknowledging smile before turning his attention back to Francus and Grigor. "Sorry about that. So, what do you think our boss will do next? From what I can tell, the boss doesn't like to waste lives."

Francus leaned back, his expression thoughtful. "He's growing his power, delving into spatial magic. I don't know the specifics, but Aldred's never been one to take unnecessary risks. He understands the cost of war."

Grigor, swirling his drink, added, "Aldred's always been about precision and strategy. Even with his new abilities, I doubt he'll stray from that. He knows what's at stake."

Rael nodded, his gaze shifting between the two commanders. "Yeah, the boss has always been different. He doesn't just fight; he thinks, he plans. But spatial magic, that's a whole new level of warfare."

Francus's face showed a mix of concern and admiration. "It is. But if there's anyone who can master such a complex art and use it effectively, it's Aldred. He has a way of surprising everyone."

Grigor's expression hardened slightly. "True, but I hope he remembers he's not invincible. Powerful magic like that can be as dangerous to the wielder as it is to the enemy."

The conversation was interrupted as the bartender approached with a fresh round of drinks. "On the house, for the heroes of the Celestial Platoon," he said with a respectful nod.

Rael raised his glass, "To the Platoon, and to Aldred. May our efforts bring peace to the galaxy."

The trio clinked their glasses, each lost in their own thoughts about the future.

The clinking of glasses and low chatter in the pub was abruptly shattered by the piercing wail of an alarm. The sound jolted everyone to attention, a stark reminder of the ever-present threat of war. A robotic voice echoed throughout the city, its message clear and urgent: "All mercenaries, prepare for battle. Immediate threat detected."

Francus, Grigor, and Rael exchanged quick, knowing glances before springing into action. They left their drinks untouched and hastened out of the pub, joining the wave of soldiers and mercenaries pouring into the streets.

As they emerged, they looked up to the sky, witnessing an alarming sight. Countless demonic ships, materializing out of nowhere, darkened the skies. Their ominous silhouettes cast a foreboding shadow over the city.

"How did they sneak past our radar?" Grigor exclaimed, his voice laced with disbelief and anger. He clenched his fists, feeling a mix of dread and readiness for the imminent battle.

Francus, squinting at the sky, replied tersely, "They must have found a way to mask their approach. This is bad."

Rael, his hand instinctively going to the weapon at his side, muttered, "We need to get to our posts. This looks like a full-

scale invasion."

The trio hurried towards their designated combat stations, their strides purposeful amidst the chaos erupting around them. Soldiers and mercenaries were scrambling to their positions, the city transforming into a warzone within moments.

As they neared the city's defensive perimeter, a massive shadow loomed over them. They looked up to see a humongous demonic ship descending, its size dwarfing the others. It was like nothing they had seen before – a behemoth bristling with weapons and emanating a palpable sense of dread.

"By the gods…" Francus breathed, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and fear.

Grigor, gripping his weapon tighter, added, "That's no ordinary ship. It's a flagship. We're in for a fight unlike any other."

Rael, his face set in a grim expression, nodded in agreement. "Let's give them hell. For the Platoon, for Aldred, for the galaxy!"

Suddenly, a powerful pressure swept over them. The trio clenched their jaw as they craned their neck to the sky.

There, a humongous demonic ship flickered, its arsenals already prepared to fire.