Demon King After the End-Chapter 21: Changing ways

One by one, the retainers gathered around Leon, their expressions a mix of awe and disbelief. The towering black tree loomed behind him, its massive branches casting a cool, ominous shade across the scorched land.

Zorath stepped forward first, eyes never leaving the tree's writhing silhouette.

"...Is this the miracle you spoke of, Your Highness?" His voice carried the weight of centuries.

Leon gave a nod. "It is."

Zorath blinked slowly. "But... how?"

Leon let out an exaggerated sigh. "Since when did a king start needing to explain everything he does?"

Zorath immediately bowed. "Forgive me. I didn't mean any disrespect. I'm just... speechless. I never thought I'd see this in my lifetime."

Brugos grunted, folding his arms. "It's a damn miracle, no doubt. But what does it mean for the rest of us? The dark elves are kneeling like their god just returned. What about the demons? The goblins? The rest?"

The others nodded in agreement, watching Leon expectantly.

Leon didn't answer right away. Instead, he stepped up onto a nearby outcropping of rock, overlooking the crowd that had begun to gather below. His voice rang out with firm clarity.

"Everyone—listen up."

The crowd quieted, their eyes drawn to him.

"I am Leon Vaelgrim. Your new king."

He paused to let the words settle in. No cheers followed. Only quiet tension.

"I know our situation is dire. We've lost the war. The old king is dead. We've been pushed to the edge of the continent, into a land where even the sun tries to kill us."

He swept his hand out, gesturing at the desolate land still stretching beyond the edges of the shade.

"We live in ruins. We hide from the sun. We starve. You know it—I know it."

A few demons looked away, ashamed. A child clung to its mother's leg, thin as a twig. Someone's stomach growled.

Leon continued, voice sharper now.

"So tell me—what did we eat before the war? What kept us alive?"

"Hunting," someone muttered.

Leon pointed. "Correct. Hunting. But what do you hunt in a wasteland with no life left in it? Lizards? Poisonous beetles?"

No one answered.

"We've been trying to survive the same way, even though everything around us has changed. That's why we're dying."

Sylviana raised an eyebrow. "So what's your plan?"

Leon smirked. "We adapt."

"How?" Lyzara asked, arms crossed.

"We stop relying on prey... and start growing our own food."

The crowd blinked, stunned into silence.

Gorran snorted. "Farming? Out here? In this cursed dirt? You'll have better luck squeezing milk from a rock."

Leon's grin widened. "You're not wrong. This wasteland couldn't grow a weed. But..."

He pointed to the ground beneath them.

"...this isn't the same land anymore."

The demons looked down. Their boots rested on deep, dark soil. It pulsed faintly, humming with unnatural vitality. Cool mist drifted across the area, and for the first time in years, the air felt bearable.

"This," Leon said, his voice echoing with authority, "is Nethersoil. Born from the Tree of Death. And it is transforming the wasteland as we speak."

The demons looked around. The dark, pulsing soil stretched out slowly beyond the tree's shade, inching outward like black ink soaking into parchment.

Brugos folded his thick arms and scowled. "So what? It's still drenched in death mana. Nothing can grow on land like this."

Leon didn't reply. He simply raised an eyebrow and tilted his head toward Elvera.

The dark elf queen stepped forward, her expression calm and unreadable.

"You're right, Brugos," she said. "Nothing normal can grow here. But that's only if you're thinking like humans."

She paused, letting the tension settle before continuing.

"But let me ask you this: if nothing can grow in death mana, then how did the dark elves live for centuries under the Tree of Death? What did we eat?"

Silence.

No one had an answer.

She smiled faintly, then infused mana into her space ring. With a flash, she summoned a strange-looking fruit into her hand. It was bright crimson, streaked with black veins, shaped vaguely like a mango but slightly larger.

She raised it above her head for everyone to see.

"This," she said, "is Mangrim. A fruit that thrives on death mana. Not only is it edible—it's delicious. And it enhances regeneration and muscle growth."

The crowd stirred. Eyes locked onto the fruit. Some demons licked their lips unconsciously. Children clutched their stomachs as they growled audibly. A few small ones, unable to help themselves, took timid steps toward Elvera before being held back by their parents.

Seeing their struggle, Elvera chuckled softly.

"There's no need to hold them back," she said warmly. "They're just hungry. Let them come."

The parents hesitated—but then slowly nodded and released their children. A rush of little feet followed, goblins, beastkin, ox-kin, dark elf children—running up to Elvera with wide eyes and eager hands.

"Alright, alright—calm down," she laughed, kneeling. "Everyone will get a taste. I have more."

With a graceful motion, she summoned several more fruits. Not just Mangrim—others of varying shapes, sizes, and colors. Some glowed faintly, others pulsed with magical energy.

Leon's jaw dropped slightly. "You've been hoarding all of that this whole time?"

Elvera smirked. "I was a queen, remember? I always kept some stores of food. These were the last fruits from my homeland—the final harvests before we were attacked. I couldn't bear to eat them, not when they might never grow again."

She looked past Leon at the vast stretch of spreading Nethersoil, then back at him.

"But now, this land can sustain them. These won't be the last anymore. We can grow them again."

She carefully sliced the Mangrim, preserving the seeds and distributing the slices to the children first. Their delighted giggles and satisfied munching echoed through the air. Then she passed out portions to the adults, who hesitated for a heartbeat before gratefully accepting.

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Finally, she walked back to Leon and offered him a full Mangrim.

"Here," she said. "Taste a piece of the home we lost—and the one we'll build again."

Leon took it without hesitation and bit into the fruit. A rich, juicy sweetness flooded his mouth—sticky and smooth, with a faint cinnamon aftertaste that lingered on his tongue.

He blinked. "Damn. That's... actually amazing."

Elvera smiled. "I know."