The Strongest Demon Lord Reincarnated as a Commoner

The "Alchemy Incident," as it came to be known, was a ghost story whispered in the halls. No one could explain it, so most chose to forget it. But for the select few in Leo's orbit, it was another layer of terrifying reality. The Silent King wasn't just powerful; he operated on a plane of existence they couldn't begin to comprehend.

This growing legend had a peculiar side effect. Leo, in his quest for anonymity, had become the academy's most exclusive commodity. An invitation from him—or even just to his table—became a status symbol of unparalleled prestige.

The first official test of this new social dynamic came in the form of a royal decree. A Grand Ball was to be held at the academy to celebrate the successful stabilization of the Whispering Labyrinth and to foster goodwill with a visiting delegation from the neighboring Solari Empire.

Attendance for all first-year students was mandatory.

The moment the announcement was made, a new, far more personal battlefield was established. Who would be Leo's partner for the ball?

Kaia was the first to strike, with all the subtlety of a charging boar. She cornered him after combat practice. "Leo! The ball. You and me. We'll show those prancing nobles what a real power couple looks like!"

"I'm not going," Leo said flatly.

"It's mandatory," she countered, puffing out her chest. "So you might as well go with the strongest partner. That's me."

Before Leo could refuse again, another voice, dripping with saccharine sweetness, cut in. "Oh, but a ball isn't about strength, is it, dear Kaia? It's about grace and elegance."

Lyra glided into the conversation, her serene smile firmly in place. "My Lord, it would be my honor to accompany you. I have been trained in all the classical dances of the Primordial Age. They are said to make the stars themselves weep with envy."

Kaia glared at her. "He doesn't need to dance with a fossil. He needs a partner who can guard his back if some idiot tries to challenge him."

"I assure you," Lyra said, her smile tightening, "no one would be foolish enough to challenge him while he is in my presence."

As the two were locked in a standoff, Elara approached. She looked flustered, her usual composure gone. This was unfamiliar territory for her. "Vance," she said, avoiding his eyes and speaking to a point somewhere over his shoulder. "As a member of a ducal house, it is my social duty to attend with a partner. As you are... a member of my Labyrinth team... it would be logistically... appropriate... for us to go together."

It was the most awkward, pride-swallowing invitation in history. The mighty Elara von Valerius was practically begging him.

Leo was about to deliver a third refusal when Luna, blushing so hard she looked like she might faint, scurried up and silently handed him a small, folded note before running away.

He unfolded it. In neat, shaky handwriting, it read: 'You don't have to go with me, but if you don't have a partner, I'll be by the punch bowl. Just so you won't be alone.'

It was the only invitation that wasn't a demand or a transaction. It was just... kind.

Leo sighed, the sound echoing the weariness of a thousand collapsing galaxies. This was getting out of hand.

The night of the ball arrived. The grand ballroom of Aethelgard was a breathtaking sight, lit by floating chandeliers of pure mana-light. Students in their finest gowns and formal uniforms mingled, the air buzzing with music and conversation.

The center of attention, however, was the visiting delegation. Princess Anya Solari, the heir to the sun-worshipping empire, was as radiant as her homeland's star. She had golden-blonde hair woven into an intricate braid and eyes the color of warm honey. She moved with a regal grace that made even Elara look like a novice, smiling and exchanging pleasantries, her every move a masterclass in diplomacy.

Leo arrived, wearing a standard, ill-fitting formal uniform he'd been forced to procure. He had no partner. He had refused them all, stating he was going to fulfill his obligation and then leave. His plan was simple: stand in a corner for an hour and then disappear.

His plan failed instantly.

The moment he entered, a hush fell over the room. His presence was a magnet for attention. He ignored it, heading directly for the darkest, most secluded corner he could find.

He was not alone for long.

"So, you are the commoner who has caused such a stir."

The voice was melodious and held an undertone of imperial authority. Princess Anya Solari stood before him, her golden eyes appraising him with sharp intelligence. Her retinue of heavily-armored sun-knights stood a respectful distance away.

"I've heard many stories," she continued, her smile enigmatic. "The Orb-Breaker. The Unmoving Sword. The Silent King. They say you command power that defies explanation."

"They say a lot of things," Leo replied, his tone flat. He wanted her to get bored and leave.

"Indeed," she said, her smile not faltering. "But I am not one to believe in rumors. I believe in what I see." Her eyes flickered for a moment, and Leo felt a subtle, powerful wave of divine solar energy wash over him. It was a probe, cloaked in pleasantries—a diagnostic spell of the highest order, meant to reveal a person's nature and power.

The divine energy touched Leo and, like all the others, simply ceased to be.

Princess Anya's smile froze for a fraction of a second. Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. She had expected resistance. She had expected a clash of power. She had not expected her god's divine sunlight to be snuffed out like a candle flame.

She recovered instantly, her diplomatic training superb. "I see," she said, her voice now holding a new note of genuine, profound interest. "The rumors do not do you justice."

At that moment, the four members of Leo's unofficial harem converged. Lyra, looking like a goddess in a simple silver gown; Elara, stunning in a deep emerald dress; Kaia, looking uncomfortable but fierce in a modified formal uniform; and Luna, sweet and shy in a pale blue dress. They saw the foreign princess speaking to Leo, and a united front was silently formed against the outside threat.

"Your Highness," Elara said, stepping forward and giving a perfect curtsy. "It is an honor. I am Elara von Valerius. I hope you are finding our academy to your liking." It was a polite interruption, a clear territorial marking.

Anya's golden eyes shifted to Elara, then to the others gathering around Leo. She saw the possessiveness, the rivalry, the devotion. Her sharp mind immediately understood the dynamic.

"Ah, Duchess Valerius," Anya said, her smile returning, this time with a glint of amusement. "Your academy is full of... wonders. Mr. Vance is far more intriguing than any ancient artifact." She turned back to Leo. "Perhaps you would grant me the honor of the next dance? I would love to hear more of your... unique perspective on things."

It was a direct challenge thrown into the heart of the group. The foreign princess was making a play for their prize.

Before Leo could refuse, the music swelled, signaling the start of the next dance. And a new intrusion occurred.

A finely-dressed young man, a noble from the princess's retinue named Lord Valerius—a distant, arrogant cousin of Elara's—strode up to their group. He had been watching the princess's interest in the commoner with growing fury.

"Your Highness," he said with a stiff bow to Anya, before turning to sneer at Leo. "Surely you would not dirty your hands by dancing with this... commoner. He is a disgrace to this academy. I, Lord Kaelan von Valerius, demand satisfaction on your behalf! I challenge this peasant to a duel of honor!"

The announcement silenced the ballroom. A formal challenge had been issued. To refuse was to accept cowardice and dishonor.

Leo looked at the fuming noble. He looked at the five women surrounding him, all with different expressions of anger, worry, and anticipation. He looked at the scores of onlookers.

His quiet corner was now the center of an international incident.

He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow breath. This was the exact opposite of being left alone.

"Fine," Leo said, his voice devoid of any emotion. The word hung in the air, a death sentence delivered with the same energy as ordering a cup of tea. "I accept."