The city around them burned, but Isaac's legs carried him with a singular purpose: home. With Helena guiding and supporting him, they navigated twisted streets and collapsed buildings, avoiding hunters and rifts. Every step brought him closer… yet dread gnawed at his chest.
When they finally reached his neighborhood, the scene was horrific. Smoke curled from the remains of his home, the front door splintered and blackened. Ash floated in the air like snow, and the silence was absolute — except for the distant, faint echo of screams somewhere beyond the ruins.
Isaac's heart lurched. He stumbled toward the entrance, Helena steadying him.
Isaac (voice trembling): "Mom… Dad… Lucy…?"
The living room was a scene of carnage. Furniture lay overturned, walls scarred by energy burns, and in the center… his mother's body, lifeless, torn by an attack he couldn't even imagine. Isaac fell to his knees, tears blurring his vision.
Isaac (shouting, voice cracking): "No! Mom!"
Helena knelt beside him, placing a calming hand on his shoulder. "Isaac… I'm… I'm so sorry. She… she didn't make it."
Isaac shook his head violently, grief and disbelief warring within him. "No… this can't be happening. I… I just wanted to get home…"
Helena's voice was firm, a tether in the storm of his emotions. "Listen to me. It's not over. Your sister… Lucy… she's still out there. We'll find her. But you have to survive first. You can't… you can't lose yourself here."
Isaac sank to the scorched floor, cradling his mother's lifeless body against his chest. Her blood stained his hands, her still warmth a cruel contrast to the fire raging outside. Tears blurred his vision, and a hollow scream tore from his throat:
Isaac (shaking, sobbing): "No… Mom… please… wake up…"
The grief, the helplessness, the sheer weight of the invasion pressed down on him like molten stone. The world felt fractured, impossible, and the loss of someone he loved most made him feel small, powerless… broken.
And then, a surge — sudden, overwhelming, as though the air itself had thickened. His vision blurred, and his mind was flooded with a voice that was not his own.
"Stand tall. Stand above all. I will conquer all… I will conquer all… I will shape destiny… I will rule!"
It wasn't a whisper. It was a roar. It wasn't encouragement. It was command. It was Irithel, the demon warrior, the former lord of dimensions, burning with certainty, with power, with merciless purpose.
Isaac trembled, and the weight of his grief collided with the presence of the demon. In that instant, he saw flashes: Irithel's form standing tall amidst a battlefield, twin blades in hand, eyes ablaze with determination, fire and lightning swirling around him, enemies falling in waves. The absolute authority, the certainty, the unshakable will — it all seared into Isaac's mind.
Irithel's voice echoed within him, a chilling resonance:
"Stand tall. Stand above all. I will conquer all. I will shape destiny. I will rule."
Isaac's hands shook violently as the memory surged through him. His body screamed with helplessness, yet within the chaos, a spark ignited. The fire of survival, the drive to endure, to act, to change, it flickered alongside the shadow of Irithel's resolve.
He gasped, tears streaking his face. The power, the certainty, the cold dominion, it was terrifying, alien… and yet, it made something stir deep inside him. A seed of strength, of ruthless purpose, of possibility.
Isaac pressed his mother closer for a final moment of mourning, then slowly rose, gripping her body to carry her outside the ruins. The streets beyond were death and chaos incarnate, but for the first time, he felt a flicker of unshakable determination, tempered by grief, yet bolstered by the whisper of a demon lord's absolute will.
Somewhere far beyond, the Ethereal Soul pulsed, sensing a soul on the edge of awakening, a human teetering between despair and the legacy of a demon warrior.
And Isaac … reluctant, clumsy, grieving, took his first step toward a destiny he didn't yet understand, but would one day command.