Imp to Demon King: A Journey of Conquest-Chapter 379: No Rest for the Ascended

After the serious talk, Adam relaxed with Mimir for an hour before a maid burst through the dean’s office door.

The poor red-faced girl bent over, clutched her knees, and panted as if she had run for her life. But even as he and Mimir raised their brows, she only took a second to wipe her sweat and arrange her hair in a vain attempt to look presentable before she talked, each word coming out choppy and ragged. freewёbnoνel.com

"Tiamat... calls... you."

"Seems like our pleasant conversation came to an end." Mimir nodded. "War is calling, but I’m sure you’ll find time to see an old brother before the final siege." He gave Adam a meaningful smile. "Right?"

Unlike Mimi, he didn’t see Adam’s narrow focus as a fundamental problem—at least not how she did. Defying well-established gods required more than words and effort. He had seen generations of brave fools collapse against their divine wall and under their mocking laughs. Adam’s mindset was, albeit a little extreme, correct.

Of course, the mental toll was something else, but would someone who overcame the abyss, killed one of the oldest jotun before his very eyes, survived a trip to Tartarus and returned to tell the tale bend that easily? He shook his head. Not while he still had someone to return to.

While Mimir assessed him, Adam returned his nod. "I’ll drop by whenever time allows." He walked to the window, then glanced at the exhausted maid. "Take your time to return."

Refreshed by the discussion, he unfurled his wings and soared through the sky. If he had found his previous form’s flight exhilarating, he now felt like the sky was his domain and the wind an old friend ruffling his dark and white hair.

Faster than ever, his tail whipped with the currents as he bolted to his palace, reaching it in the blink of an eye with an approving nod. He was alarmingly faster than when he used plasma jets to propel him.

He clenched his jaw as he landed inside Tiamat’s room. ’But not as fast as Zeus.’

Before his dark thoughts could settle, Mab’s playful voice echoed from the side.

"You were more threatening before. But you’d make for a decent dance partner. Mind if I show you some moves?" Her dark gothic dress fluttered as she raised her right hand. "Don’t be shy and take it. I can’t let a handsome face rot on battlefields, can I?"

Adam face-palmed at her ridiculousness, no fickleness as she always claimed, while Tiamat rolled her eyes.

But Mab didn’t give them a second to answer. She circled Adam, patting his wings with a grin.

"My essence courses through them, like in your body. Mana can become one of your weapons if you so desire." She snapped her fingers, a frozen castle of old forming above her, followed by armies and magical beasts. "Your essence-shaping capabilities are impressive—I’ll give Karna merit for his teachings. But you use the chisel like a hammer—no finesse, only brute strength."

The frozen landscape shifted. As if independent, the miniaturised soldiers moved with different purposes, and the beasts roared like living beings.

Adam frowned, then shuddered as the castle turned into a prison. He sent a strand of his chaos inside, and as expected, it froze solid by the gates.

Mab’s magic was indeed different. It had purpose, as if her essence was a piece of equipment and her spells were engravings that gave them additional effects.

Noticing he caught up, she condensed everything into an orb that released frost gases. Time slowed in the surroundings, each wisp hanging in the air, but not him. He was immune to temporal effects.

Mab raised a surprised brow, then clicked her tongue. "That was supposed to freeze out in time. You would have only seen me as a blur. Someone has been a naughty boy and excavated a useful trait."

She chuckled. "But the difference remains. You’ve seen how Zeus turns into lightning and Hades into shadows; that’s also magic. In fact, authorities are also a form of magic, more primordial, more passive. What you do with them, however, has to be shaped with your own hands."

Tiamat nodded from her throne. "Each pantheon has its own form of magic. You know about the Nordic runes already. Mab will teach you how to use them like she taught Merlin in his youth."

A deep furrow creased Adam’s brows as understanding flashed in his eyes. ’Cronus wasn’t born with time manipulation. Instead, he learned it because of his affinity and immunity, meaning gods built their powers around their authorities.’

He had wondered why his authorities were passive boosts and finally got the answer. Mastery was required to develop offensive means. Fortunately, he wouldn’t have to stumble in the dark with Mab’s help.

He nodded at Mab, his gaze sharp and fists tightening. "When do we start?"

"Oberon won’t allow other gods into the fairy forest as long as he’s not losing. My plan is simple: give him the illusion that our sides are equal while I teach you." Mab raised three fingers. "Three years. No." She lowered two, her violet eyes narrowing and her voice turning regal. "We’ll drag the war for a year. I believe you won’t... disappoint me."

She waved her hand, the air solidifying into a crystal Gate. Pink energies swirled in the frames, making it feel dreamlike to Adam—not that it mattered.

A year felt both too long and too short when much had to be done and time was lacking. But he would manage, as he always had. His citizens’ safety depended on it, and so did his revenge and reunion with Luna.

Weakness because of his recent ascension was no excuse, just a state he had to shed. And when he did, Titania, Oberon, then the gods would tremble under his chaos.

He walked through the Gate, smirking in sarcasm. "Guess who won’t sleep much this year?"

Tiamat smirked back as the pink energies engulfed him. "That’s the spirit."