"There is no glory in death. Only a past memory and a wasted opportunity."
The sky was covered by a dark mantle of clouds that seemed made of soot. A gloomy wind swept across the ruins of a battlefield, dragging ashes and dust among mountains of lifeless bodies.
The stench of blood, rusted metal, and burned flesh saturated the air. There, among hundreds of corpses—demons and humans alike—two colossal figures still stood.
One of them, the Hero of the Holy Sword, was a symbol of hope in a broken world. His name: Lance Vincent.
His short red hair burned like fire under the dim light of the sky.
His golden eyes shone like eternal suns, brimming with justice, faith, and determination. He wore a celestial white armor that radiated holy light, illuminating the desolation with an incorruptible glow. He was the light among shadows, the prophecy made flesh.
In front of him stood his opposite: Azrael Noctem Cael'Zar, the Demon King.
Azrael was not a mere ruler. He was the abyss dressed in sovereignty. His long white hair fell like a snowy veil over his infernal armor, black as the purest void. His purple eyes were deep, infinite, unfathomable. A living darkness pulsed within him, and the demonic energy surrounding him seemed to swallow the world itself.
He wielded the Abyssal Blade, a legendary sword that devoured light, hope, and sanity. His authority was uncontested in the Five Demon Realms, his mastery of magic, strategy, and martial arts made him almost omniscient in the universe.
And yet… he was about to die.
Azrael knew it. He felt it. That sharp premonition he had ignored for years… had finally reached him.
He underestimated the prophecy. He scorned the rumors. He ignored the poor child who had wielded the light.
And now he was facing the end.
"If you ignore a small threat for being seemingly harmless, one day you will find yourself cornered by that same threat… but grown giant."
—Azrael Noctem —said Lance Vincent, his voice echoing with force in the silence of desolation—. Your reign ends here. It is time to pay for everything. And with the power granted to me by the Goddess of Souls, Fortuna… you will die in this place!
The Demon King, still proud despite his wounds, laughed arrogantly.
—Do you think you'll achieve anything with that sword, human? I wiped out your army, I destroyed the other four Heroes of the prophecy. Only you remain… and your fate will be no different from theirs.
Lance gripped his sword. His golden eyes blazed.
—My companions may have died on this field… but thanks to the Goddess Fortuna, they will reincarnate in 9,000 years. They will return!
Azrael growled in fury.
—Not this time! I swear I will not allow it!
The air grew tense. The two warriors surged forward. The Holy Sword shone like a fallen star. The Abyssal Blade was wrapped in dark fire.
An impact shook the earth. The flash was so violent the heavens trembled.
And in the next instant… all was silent.
A blade pierced a torso. It was Lance's. And the body that received it was Azrael Noctem's.
The Demon King spat blood and dropped his sword. His eyes widened with bitter surprise.
—I told you… —murmured Lance, his voice breaking—. Your reign ends here, Azrael.
The King fell to his knees. He was breathing heavily.
—You only had luck… —he spat blood—. You're just a damned human decorated with borrowed lights. You are nothing without that Goddess of Souls.
—You caused catastrophes, brought pain, destruction… killed millions of innocent humans —Lance spoke with the strength of all the fallen—. You don't deserve the Goddess's compassion.
—And you speak of humans as if they were saints? —Azrael scoffed, laughing bitterly—. I have seen their true nature. Lies, cruelty, ambition… rot! Humans are no better than demons. They live with masks, hiding what they are. Hypocrites, all of them!
Lance lowered his gaze for a moment. Then his golden eyes rose again.
—You're right. We're not perfect. Not saints. But we learn. We love. We lose. We fall… and rise again. That is part of what it means to be human.
—You speak as if you know everything. Arrogant human…
—And don't you? —Lance replied—. You believed yourself untouchable. But even you… didn't know it all. And whether you admit it or not… there are similarities between you and me.
—What nonsense… —whispered Azrael with a fading voice—. You will die…
—Don't you think you're judging too much… knowing you already dropped your sword?
Azrael's body trembled. A dull rumble resounded inside him: the Holy Sword was corroding his vital core, devouring his existence from within.
—How I wish… this had ended differently —said Lance, with real sorrow.
He pulled his sword free, and the Demon King's body fell to the ground. Azrael, lying on his back, barely breathed. His dark blood stained the battlefield. His purple eyes slowly dimmed.
—Perhaps one day… humans and demons will coexist —said Lance, coughing blood—. If you reincarnate… maybe you too will see that future. Maybe… we will meet again.
Azrael, with his final breath, muttered:
—I don't understand your foolish proposal… But if I reincarnate… I swear I will have my revenge, on all of you. There will be no more humans… and next time, you will be the one to drop the sword.
Lance looked at the sky. The sun broke through the clouds.
—Don't you think?… the dawn belongs to everyone. And if that happens, I will be there to stop you. No matter in which life.
Azrael slowly closed his eyes. His consciousness faded.
And in his final thoughts, a sarcastic voice resounded:
"What nonsense… The dawn belongs to everyone? What did that have to do with the conversation? That hero is not as smart as he thinks."
Darkness. A place without form or time.
A small light floated adrift: the soul of the Demon King.
—Where… am I?
A voice answered, deep and mocking.
—Well, well, the great Azrael Noctem, reduced to a shiny little ball. What a change.
—The Hero of the Holy Sword is too good for this rotten world to deserve. He didn't kill you completely, and look at you now, your soul wandering through the void, not even erased from existence.
—Who's there? Who are you?
—Does it matter? Call me your conscience… boo!
—Ghost jokes? —Azrael growled—. What a pathetic entrance.
—Oh, what a party pooper. Doesn't matter. What matters is that you're here. And I came to offer you something. If you think I came just to mock you, you're wrong if you think I care about letting you lose.
—Mockery? Condescension?
—No. A second chance. Reincarnation, that's what I came to give you.
—Second chance, why should I care?
—Because you're talking to me. That means Lance Vincent let you live. He could have destroyed your soul forever. But he didn't.
—So what? I didn't ask him for that —answered the Demon King bitterly.
—Sometimes gifts are given without being asked… especially by a friend.
—That filthy human is not my friend! —shouted the glowing ball of a soul.
—If you say so, mister no-friends —the sarcastic voice replied.
—Ha! Don't make me laugh. What good is reincarnation without my power? Will I be a weak demon? A larva? A worm?
—Could be. But I'm not interested in punishing you. I just want to give you another life. Do with it whatever you want.
—And what do you gain from this?
—Don't you get it yet? —the voice sighed—. I don't need to gain anything. I only came to put you back in the game. The rest… is up to you.
—Wait… are you the Goddess of Souls?
—The Goddess? Don't you hear my voice? I don't have the grace to be her. I sound male, not heavenly female. And besides, I have a great sense of humor.
—More like you're a clown —Azrael Noctem Cael'Zar replied.
—You act mysterious. That doesn't make you interesting.
—I don't need to be. Time's up. I must leave now. Your new life awaits. Still, it was a pleasure seeing you again.
—Wait! Before you send me… what did you mean by "seeing you again"?
The voice laughed, distant.
—You should know. You're the Demon King, well, you were. Either way, it was a pleasure meeting you again.
And as a light touched him deeply and enveloped the small ball of light, the soul of the Demon King Azrael Noctem Cael'Zar began to fade little by little.
"Every King deserves a second chance."
Azrael, confused, barely managed to say:
—Wait… what did you say… about seeing me agai—