Akashic Records of the Bastard Child Engaged to a Goddess



Isadora Interlude Arc

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(POV: Akashic Records)

Vyndariel was a demon lord tired of his meager existence on the Demon Continent. Every day felt like an endless cycle of mediocrity, and he longed for something more. Gazing out from his courtyard, he frowned in dissatisfaction at the lackluster state of his territory. The small number of demons that served under him only further fueled his disgust. He yearned for power, for a multitude of loyal subjects at his command.

It was then that Vyndariel's second wife, Ashia, approached him, concern etched on her face.

A middle-aged great demon, she had braided silver hair, black eyes and black horns and wore a maid outfit.

"What's troubling you, my love?" she asked, reaching out to gently touch his arm.

Vyndariel let out a weary sigh.

"It's nothing..."

"As your wife, it is my duty to know when something troubles you, so please, tell me..."

"Well, it's just.."

"Come on, go on."

"I envy the Demon Kings of the Blackcrest Region. But even more than that, I envy the Demon Kings who dwell in Hell. They're like Demon Emperors, with multitudes of demons and even Hell Lords kissing their feet and bowing to them."

"I see..."

Right after, there was a calm silence.

Ashia, ever understanding, wrapped her arms around Vyndariel's and leaned against him.

"Don't worry, my darling," she whispered. "I'm sure thereʼs a way for you to achieve your dreams, whether you see it now or not."

But Vyndariel, consumed by his frustration, snapped at her.

"JUST DROP IT ALREADY!!"

Ashia moved back a bit, surprised by his unexpected outburst.

Was he so frustrated that he'd get angry so easily? She thought.

This was the first time she'd seen him in this state.

Ashia bowed her head, "I apologize, my lord. I was simply trying to console you..."

"I don't need empty consolation!" he exclaimed. "If you truly want me to become stronger, find a way to make me a Demon King!"

Ashia recoiled slightly, hurt by his outburst. "I'm sorry," she apologized, tears welling in her eyes. "I only wanted to offer you comfort, to assure you that things will change."

Ignoring Ashia's attempt at comfort, Vyndariel briskly walked past her.

His anger built with every step.

"I don't have time to dream about it," he dismissed with a sharp tone. "Instead of hoping, you should focus on finding a way to make it possible. I'm tired of this small existence of mine... I used to be elite."

With that, he exited the courtyard and made his way back to his chambers.

If anyone asked Vyndariel the reason he wanted to get stronger, his response was always the same.

"Does one need a reason to transcend the concept of power".

A man with a simple and practically hard goal.

He simply wanted to be adored. He wanted every living, breathing thing to bow down to him.

He stepped into his dark chambers.

Vyndariel snapped his fingers, causing the candles to illuminate the space with flickering flames.

He walked over and sank onto his bed, still enveloped in a cloud of frustration.

"How exactly am I going to elevate myself to become a Demon King?" he pondered, his brow furrowed.

There were several ways to become a Demon King, but none were easy.

A demon lord could have numerous demon lords serve under him. The numbers depended solely on how powerful they were.

Or, they could claim the souls of over 6,000 demons. It would be easy if he had the power to do that, and even the demons that served under him were less than 500.

There was also the possibility of a Hell Lord serving under them, to elevate them to Demon King in accordance with the [Laws of the World] that maintained balance when it was needed.

There was also having several thousand demons serving under him.

Each of these approaches determined how strong a Demon King they'd be.

The more effective their method, the better the outcome.

Exhausted from his emotional turmoil, Vyndariel closed his eyes, hoping to find solace in sleep.

However, instead of the peaceful darkness he anticipated, he found himself transported to a pitch-black world.

Before he could gather his wits, a towering demonic creature materialized before him, seemingly out of thin air.

"Hey there, comrade," the demon greeted, a devilish grin etched onto its face.

Vyndariel turned in shock, his instincts urging him to summon his magic, only to be thwarted by the demon's words.

"Magic doesn't work here," it chuckled, relishing in Vyndariel's confusion.

Panic welled up inside Vyndariel as he desperately scanned his surroundings.

"Where am I?!" he exclaimed.

His words came out with fake authority. He was partly scared.

The demon's voice dripped with amusement as it responded, "It's quite rude to meet one of your kind and then act so irritated, don't you think?"

"I'm not a filthy creature like you subpar demons, especially not a freak of nature like you...!"

"Freak of nature? No."

Vyndariel's eyes widened as he took in the grandeur of the demon before him, now revealing his name.

"I am Malphas, Lord of the Abyss," the demon announced.

The name belonging to the Demon King that ruled over the 8th layer of hell.

The Abyss.

Instinctively, maybe even out of a profound sense of reverence, Vyndariel bowed his head.

The corners of Malphas' lips curled into a wicked smile as he chuckled in his unnerving, thunderous voice.

"Yes, that's what I like to see," he remarked.

Now, Vyndariel understood what Malphas truly was.

"Good. So, do you understand how much of a fool you've been up until now?"

He still wore his head low, his voice trembling as he addressed the Lord of the Abyss. "Yes, I... I do understand now," he managed to stutter out.

Malphas' deep, resonant voice filled the void.

"There's no need to feel uncomfortable around me, Vyndariel," he reassured.

Even when he tried to sound lenient, his words still came out purely with malice and authority.

A small smile tugging at the corners of Vyndariel's lips, he replied, "That doesn't seem too likely, my Lord. It's not easy to stand in the presence of one of Hell's strongest Demon Kings."

Chuckling, Malphas dismissed Vyndariel's flattery with a wave of his hand.

"Flattery will get you nowhere now," he declared, his piercing gaze fixed on Vyndariel. "I have something important to tell you."

Vyndariel bowed his head even further.

"Me? I'm honored, my Lord. Please, enlighten me."

A sly grin played across Malphas' face as he leaned closer to Vyndariel, his voice a low, rumbling growl. "I want to make you a Demon King."

Vyndariel could hardly believe his ears, it almost felt like the one thing he wanted was just answered all so suddenly.

"What? Me? But... I am not worthy of such a title."

"I know you want it, son of a bitch."

"Eh?" said Vyndariel.