"True strength is not in overpowering others, but in mastering the chaos within yourself."
The heavy gates of the arena creaked open behind them as Arjun, Arsh, King Suyon, and the freed slave stepped into the twilight-painted streets of the demon city. The air was warm, thick with the scent of torches and old stone. The crowd inside had slowly started to leave, their cheers still echoing like fading thunder behind the four figures walking side by side. The slave walked slower than the others—his wrists still bore the marks of chains, but his eyes were wide, taking in the city that had once seemed unreachable. King Suyon, although still wounded, held his head high now, the weight of gold in his bag and hope in his chest. Arsh had a proud but tired smile, and Arjun remained calm, his hand gently resting on his sword's hilt.
As they turned into a smaller street leading away from the arena, a pair of demon soldiers in dark crimson armor blocked their way. One of them stepped forward, squinting at the group.
"Hey!" the demon barked. "Why are humans wandering freely in the high sector? Especially you two—aren't you a former slave and a wanted rebel?"
The tension hit like a wall.
Arsh tensed, his fingers twitching slightly. Suyon's jaw tightened, and even the freed slave took a step back, suddenly unsure.
But Arjun stepped forward, calm as ever. Without a word, he reached into his cloak and pulled out a folded piece of dark fabric—woven with silver threads forming a strange, ancient symbol. He held it up.
The moment the demon soldiers saw it, their expressions changed completely.
They dropped to one knee.
"We beg your pardon," one of them said quickly, his voice trembling. "We… we didn't realize you carried the Master's cloth. Please forgive us."
Arsh narrowed his eyes. He crossed his arms and leaned in, acting serious. "Didn't realize?" he said slowly. "So, you just stop anyone who looks like they don't belong? You think we're criminals?"
"N-No, sir—!" the demon stammered, bowing lower. "We didn't mean—"
"Relax," Arsh cut in with a wide grin, suddenly laughing. "I'm just messing with you!"
The soldiers looked up, blinking in confusion. Even the slave chuckled a little.
"But," Arsh continued more gently now, "maybe treat outsiders better next time. You don't know what they've been through."
The soldiers nodded quickly. "Yes, sir. We'll remember."
Arjun gave a faint smile and tucked the cloth away. "Good. Kindness spreads faster than fear."
The soldiers stood and saluted respectfully as the group passed by. But once the four turned the corner and disappeared into the alleyway, the soldiers glanced at each other.
"Did you see that symbol?" one whispered.
The other nodded. "That wasn't just any cloth. That symbol… it belongs to the Council."
They looked back in the direction of the arena, where Kriden still stood talking to nobles and commanders.
"We should inform Lord Kriden," the taller soldier said. "If the one who fought him was a Council member's apprentice, this changes everything."
Without another word, they rushed off.
Back in the upper city tower, Kriden sat in his stone chair, surrounded by maps and old scrolls. The room smelled of ink, metal, and fire. When the soldiers burst in, panting, he raised a brow.
"What is it?" he asked, voice calm but sharp.
"My lord," the first soldier said, bowing, "the human warrior… the one who defeated you…"
Kriden's eyes narrowed.
"He carried a cloth with a symbol… the silver insignia of the Council. We confirmed it. He is the apprentice of one of the High Masters."
For a moment, silence stretched.
Then Kriden leaned back and let out a soft chuckle—low, almost amused.
"Well, well… That explains the swordplay," he muttered, eyes glinting faintly. "I should've known. That boy didn't fight like a common warrior."
He stood and walked toward the balcony, staring out at the city below. The fires burned gently. The people—human and demon alike—were returning to their homes.
"Make an announcement," Kriden said suddenly. "Tomorrow at sunrise, we distribute gold. Every citizen—slave, soldier, or worker—will receive a share."
The guards hesitated, surprised. "Everyone, sir?"
Kriden nodded. "Yes. We're not just warriors anymore. If a human can fight like that and ask for others to be freed… then perhaps it's time we start changing too."
At the edge of the city, outside the tall black gates, Arjun and the others stood one last time on demon soil.
The freed slave knelt beside a tree, touching the grass with quiet joy. "It's been so long since I touched the earth without chains…"
King Suyon placed a hand on the man's shoulder. "You're free now. Let's use that freedom wisely."
Arsh looked back once toward the city walls. "Do you think they'll really treat humans better now?"
"They will," Arjun replied softly. "Not all of them. Not right away. But we planted a seed."
The wind shifted gently as they turned toward the forest path ahead. The trees were dark, and the journey would not be easy. But this time, they were not running. They were walking with purpose.
Behind them, the demon city glowed under the moonlight. Before them, the forest waited—along with truths yet uncovered, stories yet told… and a past that refused to stay buried.
As they reached the edge of the road where forest met stone, King Suyon slowed down and turned toward them. The wind tugged at his loose robe, and the faint weight of the demon gold clinked softly inside the cloth pouch Arjun had given him.
"This is where we part ways," Suyon said, his voice calm but grateful. "I'll return to the city. There are still people—humans—who need food, medicine, and hope. This gold… it's not just mine. It belongs to all who suffered."
Arjun nodded respectfully. "You'll use it wisely. That's why I gave it to you."
Suyon stepped forward and placed a hand on Arjun's shoulder. "You've done more than any soldier or king. Thank you, Arjun. Arsh."
"Don't go getting all emotional now, old man," Arsh grinned. "Go be the king they need."
Suyon chuckled softly, gave a nod, and turned away—heading back toward the city, his figure slowly swallowed by torchlight and stone.
Now, only three remained—Arjun, Arsh, and the quiet slave.
They turned and began walking deeper into the forest, where sunlight faded and shadows ruled. The air was heavier here. The leaves barely rustled, and even the birds had gone silent. Branches curled like claws overhead, and the path ahead was narrow, marked only by old stones and broken twigs.
Suddenly, somewhere deep in the forest, a cruel laugh echoed—sharp, low, and twisted with hunger.
A man stood alone in the trees, draped in a torn dark robe that shifted with the wind. Strange white markings glowed faintly on his neck. His grin stretched unnaturally wide as he whispered into the air.
"Well, well… I knew I smelled something familiar."
He ran his tongue across his jagged teeth and stepped forward, eyes gleaming like a predator in the dark.
"Welcome, preys…"
His voice slithered through the forest like a hiss.
Back on the trail, Arsh froze mid-step. His eyes narrowed, and a sudden unease prickled across his skin like icy needles.
"…Something's wrong," he muttered. "This forest… it doesn't feel right."
Arjun slowed his pace but didn't look surprised.
"Yes," he said quietly. "This is exactly where we're supposed to go."
The slave blinked, confused. "Wait… then why am I still here? Shouldn't I have stayed back with the king?"
Arjun stopped walking. He turned around slowly, his voice now firmer—no longer calm, but sharp and knowing.
"Stop acting like a fool, man."
The slave's eyes widened slightly.
"I know you know something," Arjun continued. "You know who we're looking for. So drop the act. Where is that person? Where is he?"
Arsh glanced between the two, the air suddenly colder.
Silence settled—but it wasn't empty.
It was the kind of silence that comes before something terrible happens.
The forest grew still, as if nature itself held its breath.
The man—once shackled and weak—lifted his head slowly. The gentle, broken tone he'd spoken with was gone. In its place was steel.
"You want to find him?" the man asked, his voice low and cold. "Then prove you're ready to face what's coming."
Before Arjun or Arsh could respond, the man vanished.
A blur of movement—then a heavy kick smashed into Arjun's ribs, sending him skidding backward through the mud. Arsh barely had time to react before the man was already behind him, pressing two fingers to the back of his neck.
"I could have ended you just now," the man whispered in his ear, "but where's the fun in that?"
Arsh spun with a punch, but the man vanished again—reappearing midair with a sharp sweep of his leg. Both warriors barely dodged in time.
Arsh landed beside Arjun, stunned. "What the hell was that?!"
Arjun wiped blood from his lip, his expression calm but tense. "A test."
"A test?! That man almost snapped my neck!"
"He's trying to see if we're worthy," Arjun said grimly, unsheathing his sword. "So let's show him we are."
Arsh cursed under his breath and joined in.
The forest lit up with clashing strikes.
Two-on-one, and still—the man was too fast.
He didn't use flashy powers. He didn't roar or taunt. He simply moved, each motion razor-sharp and filled with purpose. His arms flowed like water, his strikes like iron. Every time Arjun went for a slash, the man caught his wrist. Every time Arsh used cursed energy, the man reversed it.
Then came the breaking point.
Arsh was thrown back against a tree. Arjun was slammed into the ground, his blade knocked away.
The man stepped forward, raising his hand, and dark energy pulsed from his palm—ready to strike Arjun unconscious for good.
"Arjun!" Arsh shouted, blood running down his arm.
And then… something shifted.
The air around Arsh shimmered with heat, but not anger.
From behind him, a soft hissing sound echoed.
His snake aura emerged—coiling around him slowly.
But this time, it didn't flare in rage or turn wild.
It was calm. Focused. Listening to him.
The aura took form—a translucent serpent of glowing blue scales, eyes quiet and wise.
Arsh stood tall, breathing deep, his eyes sharper than ever.
"This time… you listen to me," he said to the aura.
The man turned, his gaze narrowing. "You've learned to control it."
"I'm done being scared of my own power," Arsh replied, stepping forward. "Let's go."
The battle resumed—Arsh faster, sharper, in perfect sync with his aura.
He matched the man's speed now, landing blows that actually pushed him back. The forest shook with every strike, dust flying, trees cracking.
Arjun tried to stand, gripping his side.
But the damage was too much. His knees buckled.
He hit the ground hard—unconscious.
The man noticed Arjun's fall and gave Arsh a long, unreadable look.
"Let's see if you alone are enough now," he said quietly, preparing to end the fight.
Arsh gritted his teeth. "Then I'll fight for both of us."
[End of Chapter 64]