'After the demon king's son realized that we were not going to kill him immediately, he began to train, or at least that is what he says. But he cannot use his own power, it is just as Ophelia had told. He is a defective brat, without any talent for magic whatsoever.'
That thought crossed Ryan's mind as he walked through the wide, impeccable hallways of the new castle.
But of course, being totally analytical, Ryan knew it was not the young demon's fault either. His incompetence was purely due to a lineage that was incompatible with his own body.
Ryan had just left the main bedroom, leaving six women completely exhausted and asleep on the messy sheets behind him. Now, he had put on some quick clothes, a full suit of dark fabric that functioned like a thick bathrobe, tied firmly at his waist and covering his body.
"Alright, let's go," Ryan said, adjusting his pace and walking with the imposing posture of a ruler.
