CHAPTER 165: QUALIFICATIONS

The Hero and the Demon Queen reappeared in the vast throne room — the very same chamber where she had first unleashed the forbidden spell.

It was quiet. Empty.

But something was wrong.

Their positions... were reversed.

Instead of her regal figure lounging upon the obsidian throne, it was him who now sat there.

And in his lap, nestled precariously, was none other than the Demon Queen herself.

When they had stepped through the golden door, both had been seized by a sudden falling sensation. Reflexively, she had clung tightly to him, arms wrapped around his neck. The world spun and when they landed, it had been like this.

The Hero blinked. Slowly, he realized.

’...Uno Reverse card.’ he thought, he was now determined, to take full responsibility.

Nephelia, the Demon Queen, flushed scarlet. She shifted as though to rise but froze at the sound of footsteps.

Steady, echoing, approaching the throne room.

Clang... Clang... Clang...

Her crimson-gold eyes widened.

The massive double doors creaked open.

From the mist beyond strode a sillahoute of a man.

With a booming laugh, he called out:

"Haha! My lovely princess, how is your day going?"

But at that exact moment, a strange twist of fate — or perhaps the lingering effects of the forbidden spell caused a thick, shimmering fog to swirl across the chamber.

The man’s vision was obscured. He could not see the throne. He could not see the Hero.

He could not see his precious daughter currently sitting on a Hero’s lap.

The Demon Queen stiffened. Her heart nearly stopped. She grabbed the Hero more tightly in a panic, then her voice dropping to a frantic whisper near his ear.

"Oh no! Hero, my father has arrived!"

The Hero’s blood ran cold.

The father? The father?!

The Previous Demon King? The Old Demon himself?!

He glanced at the girl in his lap, her face burning crimson, her hands trembling against his chest. Then he glanced toward the looming figure in the mist.

He was a hero. He had faced dragons, armies, calamities, even taxes.

But this?

This was something else.

The Hero’s instincts kicked in. Without hesitation, he grabbed the Demon Queen firmly by the waist and pulled her upright, setting her beside him in the most dignified way he could manage under the circumstances.

Just in time.

The fog dissipated.

Through it strode a sharp, imposing figure: a tall middle-aged man with perfectly polished black horns, dark robes laced with crimson sigils, and a crimson gaze that could crush armies. His mere presence made the throne room tremble.

The Hero braced himself. This was no ordinary demon. This was—

The Demon Queen’s father.

The man froze mid-step, his eyes narrowing on the scene before him.

And then, in a deep, earth-shaking voice, he spoke his first words:

"Daughter... is this my son-in-law?"

"E-Eh?! Th-That—uh—what? Wait I... I am Demon Queen!!" Nephelia babbled incoherently, her composure collapsing like a tower of cards. Confronted with her terrifying father and the thought of introducing her future husband (??), her brain had abandoned her entirely.

The Hero straightened his back, his voice calm but thunderous:

"Indeed. I am your future son-in-law, old demon."

The man’s eyes sharpened. His aura flared. He studied the Hero for a long, silent moment.

Finally, his lips curled faintly.

"...You are the Hero."

"I am," the Hero replied, unflinching.

A low growl rumbled from the Old Demon’s chest. "Did you know... I crushed my generation’s hero with a single punch?"

The Hero smirked faintly. "But you are old now."

For a heartbeat, the throne room went silent.

The Old Demon’s eyes narrowed dangerously. Then, without turning, he shifted his gaze to his daughter.

"Daughter," he asked slowly, "while I was at the Demon Academy... what exactly happened here?"

Nephelia’s cheeks turned crimson. Her words tumbled out in a flustered mess. "U-Uh, th-that, the Hero attacke—"

She stopped immediately when her father raised a single hand. His gesture alone silenced the air. He was an aura farmer.

"I see," the Old Demon rumbled. His deep voice carried authority that brooked no argument. "My daughter has fallen for you, Hero. I will not stop this union... but you must prove yourself worthy."

"F-Father!!" Nephelia wailed, her entire composure crumbling. Overwhelmed, her hands went to her head as though fighting an oncoming headache. And then, without warning, she collapsed right back into the Hero’s lap.

The Hero froze, his brain short-circuiting at the absurdity of the situation.

The Old Demon froze as well, his sharp eyes locked onto his daughter — the merciless, proud Demon Queen — now reduced to a flustered maiden curled up in a man’s lap like a shy pet.

The silence that followed was so heavy it could have flattened worlds.

Finally, the old demon spoke, his voice like rolling thunder.

"Your job... is not that of a Hero."

The Hero’s gaze didn’t waver. "Indeed. I am a Tamer. Now tell me, old demon — do you oppose our relationship?"

The Hero didn’t even question, that he was here to defeat the Demon Queen.

The Old Demon’s eyes glowed bloody red. He leaned forward, his aura pressing down harder than ever.

"No. I do not care what your job is."

The Hero’s breath eased slightly.

"...I only care about your qualifications."

The word rang through the throne room like a death sentence.

The Hero blinked. "...Qualifications?"

The Old Demon’s expression turned grave. His tone grew serious, sharp as a blade.

"How many degrees do you have? What is your work experience?"

The Hero froze as though stabbed in the chest. His face darkened. This... this was out of syllabus.

The Old Demon smirked, clearly smelling some history.

"Do you know," he began, voice rising with pride, "my nephew was born with twenty years of experience in management. On the very second of his birth, he opened his mouth and spoke fluent Demon Tongue."

The Hero’s lips twitched.

The Old Demon lifted a hand, and shimmering magical projections appeared in the air like holograms — evidence, proof, and humiliation wrapped together.

"Behold! At one minute old, he took the entrance exam for the most prestigious Demon University."

The projection showed a newborn baby in a crib, controlling Twenty-three pens at once with telekinesis, scribbling furious answers across scrolls while professors fainted in the background.

The Hero’s jaw went slack. "...What the—"

"At one hour old," the Old Demon continued, "he was awarded a Bachelor’s Degree in Demon Management with highest honors. Record-breaking. Published in Extraordinary Records of Demons."

Another projection appeared, showing the newborn in a graduation cap, holding a diploma while paparazzi demons flashed cameras.

"And by one day old," the Old Demon pressed on, aura swelling with pride, "he had received multiple PhDs simultaneously. Old professors twice his size bowed to him in reverence."

The projection flickered again — a baby cooing happily while stacks of PhD diplomas floated in the air like loyal soldiers, with ancient professors groveling before the crib.

The Hero stared. His pupils shrank. Cold sweat poured down his back.

He dared a glance downward at the Demon Queen still in his lap. She tilted her head innocently, eyes shining, as if expecting him to casually outshine the miraculous prodigy nephew.

The Hero’s soul screamed.

This wasn’t a normal test.

This was a marriage qualification straight from the darkest pits of hell itself.

The Old Demon crossed his arms and continued his boasting, his horns practically glowing with self-satisfaction.

"Anyway, he’s just a modern brat," he said, gesturing at the Hero.

"Of course he’s weak compared to my generation. Did you know that in my time, I had to fight fifty archangels every single morning just to get to school?"

The Hero blinked. "...Fifty? Every morning?"

"Yes!" the Old Demon thundered. "And don’t even get me started on studying conditions! Because the Demon World was so dark back then, we had to read our textbooks inside volcanos just to have light. And if the lava erupted, well, that was just extra homework!"

He smirked proudly. "I myself hold almost every degree in existence. Philosophy of Pain. Applied Torture. Advanced Economics. Doctorate in Healing. I’ve got it all."

Then, with a withering glare, he jabbed a clawed finger at the Hero.

"And you... you’re not even AI certified."

The Hero froze. "...AI certification? What is that?"

The Old Demon scoffed so hard the air trembled.

"Pathetic. Backwater human world. You don’t even know the basics! AI means Approved In-Law certification! It’s the ultimate qualification for marriage. You get scored out of a hundred. The higher your score, the greater your chances of winning a bride. Unless you’re a perfect hundred, I wouldn’t even look at a candidate."

The Hero felt like he’d just been smacked with an invisible slap.

"...An exam... for being a son-in-law?"

The Old Demon leaned forward, his eyes gleaming.

"Exactly. An exam forged in the fires of despair and graded by the world itself."

He paused dramatically, then added with venom.

"Weak Hero, I don’t even know why my daughter fell for you in the first place. Such a pain."

Beside him, Nephelia’s face flushed crimson as steam practically rose from her horns.

"F-Father!!!" she whined, hiding her face in the Hero’s shoulder.

"Now say, what are your qualifications???" the Old Demon hissed.