Published at 12th of December 2025 8:15 am

Chapter 1817 The scary little one

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Young Sector 101 - Planet Verillion

"..."

A soldier walked through a grand, lavish corridor, his steps steady and deliberate. His head was held high inside the polished crimson armor-armor identical to that worn by all high-ranking Demons. Yet despite this uniformity, every soldier standing in formation along the two sides of the hallway recognized him instantly. This was Sakaar, the legendary Marshal of the Crimson Forces, the man whose presence itself felt like a walking decree of authority.

The troops around him-all clad in the signature armor of the Crumbled Meteor Empire-straightened their backs unconsciously as he passed. Every pair of eyes followed him with respect, awe, and the silent tension reserved only for mythic figures who shaped battlefields with mere gestures.

But admiration wasn't the only thing filling their expressions...

Among those rigid faces were also hints of discomfort-glimmers of disgust and cold shivers crawling across their skin. And none of that hostility was directed at Marshal Sakaar.

It was all aimed at the thing shuffling beside him.

Shhhhk... drag... shhhhk

A prisoner was being pulled along the floor, his body leaving a faint smear on the polished tiles. He was one of the captives seized by the Coalition Forces shortly before the planet had been fully purged.

But the strangeness wasn't in the act of dragging him-it was the horrid state the prisoner was in... and the monstrosity dragging him.

The man looked caught somewhere between life and death. His mouth hung open, his eyes wide and glassy, trembling violently as if trapped inside his own skull. Yet despite all that movement, there was no true sign of consciousness within them. His limbs twitched and twisted uncontrollably-jerking with unnatural motions that didn't resemble anything voluntary. Every spasm was accompanied by the crack of stressed joints and splintering bones, the gruesome sound echoing sharply in the silent corridor. It felt as though the prisoner was trying to crawl out of his skin, desperate to escape his own body.

This prisoner belonged to the very army that had flattened their homeland- and not only their homeland but their entire empire as well. And yet... many soldiers actually felt a spark of pity toward him.

Because he had fallen into the hands of that thing.

A creature unnervingly white from head to toe, its pale skin laced with twisting crimson veins that pulsed rhythmically beneath the surface like living threads. It had dark blood-colored fingernails on both hands and feet, look strong enough to carve through stone. From the center of its face protruded one massive eye, shifting unsettlingly between silver and white. And atop its head grew a single curved crimson horn, gleaming with a predatory sheen.

Its very existence was disturbing-like a glass of pure milk spoiled by a drop of blood swirling within, turning everything murky.

Even more terrifying was the aura around it-an oppressive, dreadful presence that made hearts tighten and instincts scream. This fear persisted even though every soldier here knew beyond doubt that they were far stronger than it. Because despite its horrific appearance, the creature was still only a child- barely reaching the height of Sakaar's knee. It wore nothing but a simple crimson cloth tied around its neck like the marshals and generals of old, as if proudly imitating them.

It had first appeared around thirty years ago, an anomaly so bizarre that it frightened both the locals and the Crimson soldiers alike. And yet despite the passage of three entire decades, it had not grown, had not matured, had not changed even slightly. It still behaved like a child-innocent in some moments, mindlessly violent in others. And this unchanging nature... was perhaps the most terrifying part of all.

"....." Noticing the increasing waves of hatred and revulsion aimed at the creature following him, Sakaar tilted his head with a subtle, deliberate motion and spoke in a low voice, "Liusar, leave him for now until you finish what you came here for... or take him and return to the Underground City."

"Nooo! No no no!" Liusar whined, tightening his grip around the prisoner and hugging him with his obsidian-sharp claws. Blood-cold as ice-began to leak in thin streams from the prisoner's torn side.

"... Let him go, and I'll bring you a red one when we return." Sakaar repeated, forcing his patience to its very limit to keep his tone steady.

He knew sending the creature back to the Underground City alone was far too dangerous. That was why he threatened him with it. Even though Sakaar had issued strict orders forbidding anyone from approaching Liusar, the level of hatred the Demons harbored for the creature was overwhelming. Sakaar would not be surprised if one of them, driven by pure rage, sacrificed himself just to kill the creature-for the sake of everyone else.

"A red one?!"

Liusar instantly released the prisoner, letting the half-dead man collapse and writhe on the polished floor in that bizarre, spasmodic state of suffering. "Don't forget your promise, Father!! I want the red one exactly as you said!"

Sakaar lingered, his gaze sinking deeply into the lone, shimmering eye of the creature-into the being whose twisted appearance made even Demons seem elegant and refined in comparison. After that long, wordless stare, he finally turned his head forward again.

"...I am not your father."

Without waiting for a response, he resumed walking, his steps heavy yet controlled, while Liusar happily trotted alongside him, still overflowing with childish excitement at the promise he believed he had earned. The two continued on until they reached the massive gate at the end of the corridor. Sakaar pushed it open with sheer, unrestrained strength.

BANG!

What lay beyond was a large ceremonial hall filled with gathered elites.

The Emperor of the Crumbled Meteors Empire sat upon his elevated throne, encircled by hundreds of politicians, high-ranking generals, and soldiers. The towering marble walls, the gilded ceiling carved with constellations, and the scattered decorative relics were all intended to radiate prestige... yet something united all those objects in an unsettling way.

Every single piece was newer, cheaper, and undeniably inferior to what once

stood in their place.

All the structures and ornaments in this hall had been rebuilt in haste using whatever resources they managed to salvage after fleeing from the cosmic horror that nearly devoured their empire. None of these decorations had witnessed the carnage that claimed the lives of hundreds of millions.

Everything here was new... painfully new.

The only thing untouched by reconstruction was the people themselves.

"....."

As soon as Sakaar and Liusar stepped onto the polished floor of the hall, a suffocating silence swept across the entire gathering. Anyone who had been sipping a drink froze instantly, the cup stuck awkwardly between their teeth. Anyone who had been mid-sentence halted, their lips suspended in the precise shape of their last spoken sound.

Then the expressions shifted-slowly, unmistakably-into dread, into cold apprehension, into the stiff unease of people who desperately wished they could look elsewhere but could not.

"Ha... ha..."

The planetary emperor rose from his throne with exaggerated warmth,

spreading his arms in a boad gesture. His robes were flashy, layered in thick fabrics and embroidered symbols... yet their texture betrayed their cheap quality. Even his attire had been hastily tailored after the destruction of his

original wardrobe.

"You honor us with your presence, Marshal Sakaar. But surely you did not need to push the gate that forcefully, yes? The replacement materials we secured are... not exactly built to withstand your legendary strength."

"My apologies. My mood is rather foul today."

Sakaar advanced deeper into the hall, placing both his hands calmly behind his

back.

"I was in secluded cultivation when I was suddenly summoned for something 'important'. So tell me what is this crucial matter?"

"That was indeed my doing" the emperor said as he descended the steps of his throne, keeping his wide, polished smile intact.

"We are holding a grand celebration today. A significant event-one that simply cannot proceed properly without the presence of the Commander of the

Crimson Forces!"

"Oh?" Sakaar's voice was low and controlled, almost too calm.

"And what kind of celebration absolutely requires my presence?" "Our forces have successfully reclaimed two thousand planets across our

sectors. Our factories are operating once more, our interstellar gateway is undergoing repairs, and our mines have resumed producing Pearls. Over the course of these long thirty years, the Crumbled Meteors Empire has crawled back to its former splendor!"

The emperor stretched his arms wide again, glancing around the hall as if expecting enthusiastic cheers, nods of approval, or even hint of pride from the assembled crowd.

But no one made a sound.

"Congratulations,"

Sakaar clapped slowly, deliberately, his expression unreadable.

"Is that all?"

The emperor's smile weakened as he stared directly at Sakaar.

"It is an official proclamation of our empire's return. A declaration that the Crumbled Meteors Empire has regained its full strength..."

He hesitated, his voice dropping slightly.

"A declaration that we are no longer in danger. No longer in need of anyone's

protection."

"Hmmm..."

Sakaar nodded several times, as though absorbing each word with great care. Then he raised his hand casually and snapped his fingers once. "Everyone leave. Immediately, I want only your leader to remain here."

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