The Demon Monarch System

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Due to Furcas' ridiculous reaction, Apollo was slightly taken aback. He didn't expect this old demon to have such a strong reaction to his words. It was apparent that there was a noteworthy attachment to the First Monarch's name. Just the slightest bit of slandering resulted in such a reaction.

"Do not believe that it is beneath me to assault your mind into nihility," Furcas continued while taking a step forward. At the same time, a pitchfork with the texture of an old wooden staff appeared in his hands. It was clear that he meant his words as an obscure aura circulated his body.

On the other hand, Apollo squinted as he took note of this. Just looking at the aura caused his Tainted Temple to tremble. 'Just what is it with these old demons that they seem stronger than they should be. There's no way he's a simple Greater Demon. I'm approaching the peak of my level, the difference shouldn't be so large,' Apollo thought silently.

Concurrently, he also conjured his own weapon, a scythe made of Hellfire. Of course, Typhir couldn't just sit aside and allow all this to happen. With his towering physique, Typhir prepared himself for battle next to Apollo.

"It may not be beneath you, but it is in my intentions to subdue and claim you as my follower. Whether you believe this to be the truth or not, you will accompany me in my journey to the peak," Apollo forcefully replied. Without pause, he stimulated a large amount of Anima.

In response, Furcas chuckled and stroked his beard, "Hoh, monumental words from an otherwise small fellow. I have seen your path, but I can't determine what it means. It is a shame the Dark Nebula tries to devour my mind when I pry deeper. Be that as it may, you don't hold the qualifications to blasphemy the First Monarch's name."

While it wasn't Apollo intention to so call, blasphemy the Monarch's name. It was indeed his intention to rile up this old demon. If he could get him to abandon his reason, it should lead up to him committing mistakes. Which, in turn, would translate to leveling the playing field a great deal.

Furthermore, something else dawned upon Apollo. 'Wiseman. I believe this prying business is linked to this title. However, the corruption issue, perhaps it is just because he is a demon. But, this is all mere speculation at this point. Until I experience his power firsthand, there isn't much for me to comment on.'

Suddenly, Apollo's eyes widened as he crossed his arms abruptly. Shortly after, he found himself flying through the air. When he landed, his body slammed into one of the supporting pillars of the tavern. 

"As I thought, you're a mere Lesser Demon. A great destiny doesn't equate to great power. A wise person would never bite off more than they can chew, nor would they act solely upon their heart. Your future will be limited if you do not learn to control yourself. Granted, that's if I allow you to live," Furcas voiced with a ridiculing smirk.

As he said this, he also inhaled his pipe. While that happened, there was a flash in his eyes as strange symbols moved around within. All of a sudden, he tilted his body to the side preemptively. For now, there was no sign as to why he did so. But, it all became clear a moment later.

Typhir's large blade cleaved downwards toward Furcas from a blind spot. Or, at least that was what Typhir thought it to be. When his strike missed, Typhir was baffled. It wasn't due to the fact he missed, but because he saw Furcas move as he moved. Yet, even though he thought to change the trajectory of his slash, his body just wouldn't listen.

'What's going on? Is he in control of my body or something?' Typhir thought to himself as he withdrew his blade from within the ground. He then dashed forward without much hesitation and started to execute strikes as per Fuhrer's teachings. Although they lacked some appeal, they more or less got the job done, the eight foundational strikes covered a number of Furcas' escapes routes.

Due to this, Typhir thought he had regained control of the momentum but that truly wasn't the case. Once again, the symbols in Furcas' eyes shifted and he moved his feet back and leaned towards Typhir. When their eyes were almost touching, the swing of a scythe passed above both of their heads.

Despite utilizing his Umbra Phantom Mantle and moving in a soundless manner, Furcas' technique was still able to detect and predict the pattern Apollo's attack would follow. Of course, Apollo wasn't privy to this information just yet. In fact, he thought it was just related to the superior senses of an ancient demon such as this one.

However, another thing started to bother Apollo. From the beginning, Furcas' aura didn't seem present in its entirety. He continued to release a stronger aura as more and more symbols appeared within his pupils. If his power continued to swell in this manner, then Apollo realized something that made him frown.

'This may be a peak Greater Demon or even...an Archdemon who concealed their power,' Apollo thought. It was a sound assumption seeing as that earlier strike had launched his with such vigor despite defending against it. This meant Furcas' strength was higher than his own, and it wasn't by a small margin either. Fortunately, he wasn't alone. He had Typhir on his side. This already provided a great deal of relief. A second assaulter alleviated some of the pressure he was dealing with.

Be that as it may, neither of them could find an opening to take advantage nor could they deal any damage to him. To Furcas, this whole ordeal was comical. Little did they know, he had never lost a battle to a demon within his own power range. It wasn't due to overwhelming strength but because of another advantage.

"He who possesses the knowledge and the know-how will always win the confrontation. In the face of unknown strength, it is ideal to take advantage of what is known," Furcas said while sporting a wily grin. 

All of a sudden, he took advantage of one of Typhir's strikes. When he executed a straight pierce, Furcas used his pitchfork to grab a hold of it and toss him into Apollo. As a result, the two were sent flying into the distance until they recovered their footing.

With heavy breaths, the two looked at each other. As of right now, they weren't sure how to deal with him. But, one thing remained true, even them working together was proving to be useless.

"It's...it's like he can see our movements in advance or something. In a way, it's like fighting against Master but worse. When we spar with him, it's like he guides our strikes to his, but this guy, it's the complete opposite. It's like the path of our attacks are laid bare before we are privy to the fact," Typhir stated through bated breaths.

Apollo nodded in return. The more he experienced it, the more he gained insight into the matter. Halfway through, he stopped attacking aimlessly. From then on, each of them held a purpose. By slowing down his actions, he gave his Tainted Temple enough time to sense something that didn't add up. 

Every time Furcas made a move, it was only once they did so. In other words, he never launched an attack of his own. It was all counterattacks. Moreover, they used little to no force. Thus, while they were reaching exhaustion, Furcas was unfazed and still taking his pleasing hits from his pipes.

"It's a shame, and you had the gall to blasphemy the almighty? Asinine, you can't even touch a hair on my head. You should be ashamed of your current achievements. If I had to measure them up against something, then it'd be useless dogshit. Where are your techniques?" Furcas said with a sharp glint in his eyes. 

When he heard this, it wasn't Apollo but rather Typhir who became incensed. Due to the fact he was Apollo's acolyte, inherently, he didn't take kindly to insults aimed towards his lord. As a result, Typhir raised his sword toward Furcas with a calm aura. 

"I'd suggest you watch your mouth. Your current position is just temporary. We will crush you," Typhir spat as a crimson-gold sheen blazed in his eyes. Because of this, Apollo's system let off a string of notifications. 

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