They were always the first to die, the scouts, with their long dagger that couldn't get close to him before he burned them down. Their confidence in thinking they could sneak on a sleeping Demon Prince was always their downfall.
This scout was a particular old man with black tangled hair and legs that moved with practiced ease as he sneaked without making any sound on the smooth stone floor of Belialthorn's crumpled temple.
He must have enchanted boots because Belialthorn heard nothing and would not have if not for the smell that waved from him. He smelled human. Old human.
When the scout got close, Belialthorn pretended to sleep and when he slowly drew his dagger that was coated with faint blue poison he made sure to double the spell he was holding in his mind.
The dagger slashed down, straight at Belialthorn's head, right before it touched his jaw and he released the Arcana. Mana ripped between them with explosive force and the man was thrown backwards with such force that his head exploded as it met the hardened wall of his temple.
Angry cries drew the red eyes of Belialthorn to the mouth of the temple where the rest of the Hunters team were hurrying inside.
Belialthorn scanned their classes and levels as they came close, they were the usual team made up of five hunters at their mid level of power, only they were now missing their scout leaving only a caster, a healer, a warrior, and a tank.
They all rushed to Belialthorn where he now sat on his treasure in the middle of the large chamber, their various enchanted weapons drawn.
"Hunters! How I hate them with every passion I have." Belialthorn thought. "They won't leave me alone even when I don't look for them!"
"They come here at least twice every week, disturbing my meal and my sleep all because they want to kill me and sell my body for some ridiculous gold and jewels." Belialthorn hissed.
"Even if I have made some raids on nearby outposts, what does that have to do with them hunting me in my territory?" Belialthorn thought.
It was not like it's unheard of for a Demon Prince to want to steal some trinkets to add to his treasures. Even an exiled Demon Prince wanted to have a few things around the crumbling temple that he claimed as his territory.
Maybe he shouldn't have raided them just to have his continuous sleep and save him the trouble of fighting these hunters always.
Belialthorn turned his attention back to the matter at hand, his right hand already filled with Arcana that he released in a roaring gust of Demonfire right at the Hunters stomping through the door.
His Bloodline skill [Noble flame] turned the normal fire into fire mixed with a sonic blast and a higher concentration of heat pushed right at the humans.
The Caster raised her hand and the metal gauntlet that was on her hand with a green stone set in the middle glowed. Glyphs of protection, focus, and power were etched deep into the gauntlet to let her use her Arcana well.
A transparent shield snapped into place around the Hunters to block the black fire bearing on them. The fire slammed into the shield with the force of the sonic blast, creating a crack in the shield as Belialthorn put most of his mana into it.
The Carter's shield still stood strong even with the crack in it but the woman herself did not so well. Sweat dripped on her face and her face paled.
She was tired and Belialthorn used that opportunity to rushed her, his nimble body danced through the floor with uncanny grace that the Hunters didn't expect.
He slammed his fist against the shield with the initiate strength of all Demons and he felt satisfaction as the shield buckled but Belialthorn was forced to step back as the warrior swung his longsword at his head.
Belialthorn dodged but the sword still managed to catch him on the shoulder, his naturally tough skin deflected most of the effects of the sword but the warrior's weapon was glowing with light and it bit painfully into his shoulder.
He hissed in pain, cursing his own foolish mistake. The warrior's blade must have been etched with an anti— demon glyphs made specifically for hunting Demons. A good thing that he had even dodged at all and did not depend on his natural body to defend him.
Belialthorn wove between arrows next, moving towards the archer as he did so. The warrior got in his way and he slammed him into the archer with a kick before more arrows could be fired.
"They know what they are doing." Belialthorn thought, his disappointment growing as the healer quickly healed the wounded. "This might take a while."
The Hunters got behind the warrior to start another volley of attack and Belialthorn lunged forward with his fangs bared, his leathery wings flapping angrily behind him, his purple eyes and short horns made him look terrifying as he met them with his claws.
They traded blows and Arcana that seems to go on for days but must have been nothing more than minutes. In the end, the Hunters lay dead before him, dead or dying.
"Damn! This wound would take a long time to heal." Belialthorn said, his angry eyes scanning his body. His skin was pale with wounds dripping dark blood.
"That's good, you danm demon." The healer gasped from where he lay slumped against the wall. His legs had ripped off and his body riddle with claw marks. "To think even I would leave a mark on the infamous Demon of the temple."
That was the name given to him. Belialthorn said nothing to the talking meat sack, with exaggerated slowness he twisted his neck, sending a sharp crack into the now silent room.
Belialthorn checked his system notification next, the words appearing in his mind as if he was seeing it with his own two eyes.
[Congratulations on killing a 100-level blue hand healer, EP given]
[Congratulations on killing a level 110 warrior, EP given]
[Congratulations on killing a level 98 scout, EP given]
[Congratulations on killing a level 100 caster, EP given]
[Congratulations on killing a level 101 tanker, EP given]
[Your class is at max level. Climb a rank to claim EP]
Belialthorn groaned, not this again! He had been at max level for some years now. And he had been almost seriously wounded during this fight.
Belialthorn had only two choices now. One, hide in his temple and hope that no Hunters would come during the time it would take him to heal. Or he could finally do what he had been planning for years.
He pulled up his status.
Name: Belialthorn
Species: Demon
Age: 38
HP: 140/5000
Ap: 2000/5000
Strength: 120
Agility: 50
Class: Noble Demon - Level 299
Bloodline Trait: Lowly
His class, Noble Demon came with superior strength, aura, and enhanced sense. Belialthorn was great for his Bloodline which granted him the Noble Demon class. They ruled over other types of Demons and even some lesser monsters.
It made his exile hurt more than it should from the Demon City, his Noble Demon class should have made him a very powerful being that should be up in the floating Demon City ruling like the Demon Prince he was.
Instead he was here in a crumbled temple forced to fight with pathetic humans. And it was all because of something on his status.
Bloodline Trait: Lowly.
*You have inherent one of your ancestor's weaknesses. You the lowest of your class. Physically smaller and weaker.