Becoming the Demon Lord: Taming the Demon Queen Begins

The arena was filled with a cacophony of noise, and the crowd of onlookers—mostly common ghosts—seemed quite intrigued by the spectacle.

After all, people love a good show, especially when they're not the ones in danger. Elara's chosen candidate had already been decided, so they didn't have to worry about being dragged into the mess themselves.

But when they thought about what might happen in the bridal chamber later that night, many of the ghosts couldn't help but shudder.

The city lord had publicly claimed that maintaining Elara's Umbral Body only required her to absorb some of the ghostly energy from the household servants. After a few days of rest, they'd recover and could offer more energy again.

But most of the ghosts weren't fools. They knew all too well how terrifying the Umbral Body could be.

If Elara got a little too carried away while feeding, she could easily drain a ghost to the point of complete annihilation.

The poor soul chosen to marry her tonight might not be drained dry on the first night, but it was doubtful they'd last long before their spirit was completely obliterated.

"And what about that little human girl they say is being prepared for Miss Nightshade's wedding? I've been dead and stuck in the Netherworld for years, and I've never even heard of a living person being able to enter this place."

"Yeah, that sounds pretty far-fetched."

"But if it's true, what do you think will happen? I heard when I was alive that ghosts can gain a lot of power by eating human children."

"You think Miss Nightshade's planning to eat her?"

"Man, that's messed up. We were humans once, too. If that's the case, it's seriously twisted."

Ghosts in the Netherworld retained almost all of their mental faculties, so they weren't as deranged as vengeful spirits. Many of them harbored resentment toward the city lord and Miss Nightshade for their ghost-feeding practices, but they kept their complaints to whispers, too afraid to speak out openly against the city lord's overwhelming power.

Meanwhile, on the stage, the match had officially begun.

The two ghosts facing off couldn't have looked more different.

One was a tall, muscular young ghost, while the other was a scholar ghost, who had likely been murdered by bandits—he still had half a knife sticking out of his chest.

Both of them looked even paler than usual, their faces drained of all color.

The winner would escape this ordeal, but the loser? They'd likely be chosen as the unlucky groom.

This fight was literally a matter of life and death.

The scholar ghost, realizing he had no chance against someone so much bigger and stronger, immediately put on a pitiful expression and began to beg as soon as the match started. "Big bro, look at you! You're tall, strong, and, uh, not exactly handsome. Even if you lose, Miss Nightshade probably won't pick you. But me? I'm good-looking!

If I lose, I'm definitely dead!"

"You son of a—!" The muscular ghost was so angry he almost started cursing.

"Just because I'm not good-looking doesn't mean I don't have other qualities! What if I do get picked?"

"Oh yeah? What other qualities?"

"Plenty!"

"Like what? I don't see any."

"Being ugly isn't a problem, but, uh, I've got a big… you know…"

The muscular ghost's face flushed red, even though he was a ghost. He was clearly embarrassed to finish the sentence.

"Anyway, today it's all about fists. You insult me and expect me to go easy on you? I'm gonna beat the crap out of you, you little punk!"

Fuming with anger, the muscular ghost had no intention of holding back.Nôv(el)B\\jnn

He took a step forward.

With a loud thud, he swung his right arm in a wide arc and threw a powerful punch.

The punch was so fast that the scholar ghost didn't even have time to react. His face was still frozen in terror when the punch landed squarely on his cheek.

He staggered backward, nearly falling to the ground.

Barely managing to stay on his feet, his vision swam with stars, and everything went dark for a moment. He was clearly dazed from the blow.

It was only then that the scholar ghost realized the fight had already begun.

"You… you don't fight fair!"

Gritting his teeth in frustration, the scholar ghost quickly assumed a fighting stance, mimicking the heroic poses he'd read about in books.

"If you're not gonna fight fair, then don't blame me for going all out!"

But…

While his stance looked impressive, his actual skills were severely lacking.

After just a few exchanges, it became painfully clear that his punches had no effect on the muscular ghost, while every hit he took felt like it was piercing straight through his soul.

It didn't take long before the scholar ghost was beaten black and blue, crying out for mercy.

Amid the cheers, another punch landed squarely, sending the scholar ghost flying through the air, stars dancing in his vision.

Thud, thud.

The crowd erupted in applause as the scholar tumbled off the stage in a pitiful heap.

"Nice! That was a great hit!"

"Serves that arrogant, pretentious jerk right!"

"Yeah, that was so satisfying! I feel better just watching it!"

The crowd's chatter grew louder, filled with excitement and approval.

Among the onlookers, a little girl tugged on her mother's sleeve, her curiosity piqued. "Mom, what did that guy mean when he said, 'my dick is big'?"

"Uh… well, sweetie, you're still too young to understand that."

Her mother's face flushed with panic at the innocent question.

"But I've been dead for over a hundred years!" the girl protested, clearly not satisfied with the answer.

"That doesn't matter! You'll understand when you're older… or maybe when you're reincarnated. Just ask someone then."

The mother, clearly embarrassed, dodged the question, her eyes darting around as if trying to avoid the topic altogether.

"But what does it mean?" the little girl asked again, tilting her head in confusion, still unable to grasp the meaning.

Meanwhile, as the two ghosts left the stage, the next match quickly began.

Every ghost that stepped into the ring fought with everything they had, desperate to protect their souls. No one was willing to give up easily.

The fights were intense, and some of the moves even impressed the crowd of ghosts watching below.

The winners celebrated, rushing off the stage as quickly as possible, eager to escape their fate.

As for the losers, they trembled in fear, casting nervous glances at Elara, who was watching the proceedings closely.

For them, the outcome of the fight could very well determine their fate.

Especially for the ghosts who were both good-looking and strong, the dread was palpable. They felt as though they were already halfway into their graves.

No, wait—they'd already died once. Now it felt like they were about to die again.

As more matches concluded, the number of defeated ghosts left behind grew to about a dozen. Their anxiety and fear only deepened as they glanced at one another, each hoping to find someone more handsome or more capable than themselves.

But to their dismay, it seemed like everyone was on the same level, making it hard to tell who might be chosen.

Then, the final two contestants stepped onto the stage.

One was tall and muscular, likely a physical fighter when he was alive.

The other…

"Him…"

The crowd stared at Timothy, his graceful and striking appearance causing a collective pause.

Even Elara, who had been watching the matches with a detached gaze, seemed to take notice, her eyes flickering with a hint of interest.