Asura's golden eyes, still burning faintly with the afterglow of his Awakening, finally fluttered closed. His tall, monstrous frame shrank, horns receding, markings dimming until only the boy remained. Small, fragile, his chest rising and falling unevenly.
Selene, blood still trailing down her side, caught him as he collapsed. Her arms wrapped tight around his limp body, her violet eyes wet with relief. He was back. The rage, the beast, the crimson terror—gone. Only her young master remained.
"...You stubborn fool," she whispered, clutching him close. Her body trembled, pain lacing through her every breath, but her hold on him was unbreakable. "Even when you save me… you scare me half to death."
The clearing was silent. Too silent.
And then, without warning, the Unknown Figure moved.
His calm mask cracked into something colder, sharper. His hand swept upward, mana surging into a spear of annihilation. With Selene distracted, with the boy unconscious, his intent was clear.
"Die."
The world itself seemed to bend as the strike came down—
BOOM.
A wall of pure, crushing aura smashed into the Unknown Figure, halting his attack mid-swing. The ground split, the sky darkened, and every knight and adventurer collapsed to their knees as the suffocating presence filled the clearing.
From the shadows of the trees, a colossal figure emerged—horns glinting like obsidian, eyes like burning suns. The Demon King.
He did not shout. He did not roar. His voice was calm, steady, but heavier than the mountains themselves.
"Enough."
The Unknown Figure's attack shattered into fragments of dissipating mana. The air quaked under the clash of their presences—one cold and unfathomable, the other vast and immovable.
And then, stepping from the other side of the clearing, wreathed in violet-black flame, came another. Cloaked in shadow, tall and unyielding, his aura different but no less suffocating. The Unknown Demon. Azrael.
Two pillars of the Demon Realm now stood side by side, barring the path between the enemy king and the unconscious boy.
The adventurers choked on their own breaths. Kael's usual grin was gone, replaced with wide-eyed horror. Lyra's knuckles whitened around her axe until the leather wrappings split. Darius muttered a curse under his breath, voice shaking. Eldrin, normally composed, stared like he was seeing the end of the world. Even Randel, the spear always steady in his hand, swallowed hard, sweat dripping down his neck.
Liora's legs trembled. She forced her hand to her sword hilt, though it felt useless to even pretend. Her lips parted to whisper, "That's… him…"
Sir Serphiel's voice answered, low, grim, his head tilting toward her.
"Yes." His words rang like a funeral bell. "The figure before you is the Demon King himself. And the shadow at his side—his right hand, Azrael."
He paused, his head turning slightly toward the Unknown Figure—their enemy.
"And the man we face… is our king. The King of Valoria."
The words struck like lightning.
Silence. Shock. Horror.
Liora's sword nearly slipped from her grasp. The adventurers froze, their faces pale as bone. Kael stammered, his voice breaking. "W-wait… our king? HERE?"
Lyra's axe trembled in her hands. "That can't… That can't be right…"
But Serphiel's voice did not waver.
"It is. Look well, Liora. Look well, adventurers. The one standing against the Demon King is no false rumor, no legend. That is the man you swore fealty to. That is the shadow ruling Valoria—our king, Erevos."
The forest groaned under the suffocating weight of their auras. Two rulers. Two monsters. Two storms colliding.
And between them, limp in Selene's arms, lay the boy who had drawn them all here.
The Demon King's grandson.
✦ The Rift of Retreat
The clearing was still burning with the weight of clashing auras when the truth finally sank in.
The adventurers—Kael, Lyra, Darius, Eldrin, and Randel—stood pale and silent, their usual banter gone, their eyes fixed on the boy lying unconscious in Selene's arms.
A boy. Just a boy.
And yet that boy had stood against their king.
Kael's lips quivered as he whispered, "He… He fought him. The king. And he didn't just die."
Lyra's axe arm trembled. She lowered the weapon, staring at the unconscious demon prince as though he were some impossible beast. "…He stood against Erevos. A child."
Darius ran a hand down his face, forcing out a shaky laugh that never reached his eyes. "Guess the rumors weren't exaggerated. The brat really is a monster."
Eldrin's expression was grim, his staff clutched so tightly his knuckles whitened. "No. Not a monster." His eyes narrowed. "Something worse. Something we don't understand."
Randel said nothing, but the grip on his spear was trembling, sweat dripping down his temple. The strike team had come as scouts, assassins, executioners if needed. Now only they and one knight remained alive—out of dozens. And the truth was laid bare: none of them could have survived what that boy had unleashed.
Liora's hand clenched around her sword hilt. Her silver eyes trembled as she looked from the unconscious Asura to the towering Demon King and his shadow, Azrael. Her voice was small, strangled, but sharp. "He's… only eight years old. Eight… and he forced our king to draw his blade…"
Her words died as the Unknown Figure—no, King Erevos—straightened, brushing invisible dust from his mantle. His glowing steel eyes flicked from the Demon King to Azrael, then finally to Asura, still limp but alive.
A sigh escaped him, long and languid, like a man denied his afternoon nap rather than one whose assassination attempt had failed. "Tch. Tiresome."
He stretched one hand lazily, and space itself split open before him. A swirling rift yawned wide, its edges crackling with pale light. On the other side lay the gleaming marble towers of Valoria, distant but clear—like a door to another world.
Erevos' voice was calm, almost bored, as he addressed the adventurers and the surviving knights. "Enough. The game is over. Return."
The knights hesitated. The adventurers stared, frozen. None dared move under the suffocating pressure of the Demon King's presence.
Erevos' tone sharpened, though it never rose above its lazy calm. "Or would you prefer to remain here? To test yourselves against the Demon King and his right hand?"
The rift pulsed, humming louder. Erevos turned his back on them, already walking toward the gateway, mantle dragging like a shadow behind him. "Choose quickly. I will not wait twice."
That broke them.
Kael was the first to move, bolting toward the rift with a curse under his breath. Lyra followed, teeth gritted, dragging Darius by the collar when his legs refused to budge. Eldrin walked stiffly, staff trembling as though it might slip from his hands. Randel was last, his spear heavy as he glanced once more at Asura—at the boy who had overturned everything they thought they knew. His jaw tightened before he disappeared into the light.
Sir Serphiel gave one final glance toward the Demon King, helm dipping low in a gesture halfway between respect and survival, then guided Liora through the rift. Her eyes lingered on Asura until the rift swallowed her whole.
And then, with the company gone, the rift sealed shut with a snap of finality. The clearing dimmed. Silence returned.
Only three remained.
The Demon King.
Azrael.
And Asura—unconscious in Selene's arms, his faint breath the only fragile sound left.
The battle had ended.
But the war had just begun.
✦ Shadows of Recognition
The rift sealed behind Erevos, leaving the forest still, as though the world itself exhaled in relief. The heavy pressure of his presence lingered, curling like smoke in the clearing.
The Demon King stood in silence, crimson eyes burning faintly in the dark. Beside him, Azrael's shadowy figure loomed, his aura steady but taut.
At length, Azrael broke the silence. His voice was low, deliberate. "…So it was him."
The Demon King's lips curled into the faintest of grim smiles. "Hn. I had wondered if the rumors were true. To see him here, in my realm, without disguise…" His gaze narrowed, the flames in his eyes flaring. "…it has been a very long time."
Azrael tilted his head, eyes glinting faintly beneath the veil of shadow. "He hasn't changed. Still wearing that calm mask. Still playing with fate like it's a game."
The King's hand tightened into a fist, the obsidian floor cracking under his clawed grip. "For him to come personally… it means he knows. Or suspects."
Their eyes both shifted toward Asura, unconscious but alive in Selene's arms. His chest rose and fell weakly, the faint traces of his transformation still etched in his skin.
Azrael's voice dropped, grave and measured. "The boy's awakening will not go unnoticed. That man… he would see it through to the end, one way or another."
The Demon King's gaze lingered on his grandson a moment longer before he turned away, mantle sweeping like fire through shadow. "…Then let him try. If Erevos wants to test fate, he will find it is not so easily bent."
The two figures fell silent, their presence casting long shadows across the broken clearing.
And the night pressed on, heavy with secrets.
✦ Days Later – A Fragile Reunion
The citadel was quieter than usual. Whispers of the battle still lingered in the halls, but behind closed doors, the world slowed to stillness.
Asura stirred, golden eyes fluttering open. The ceiling of his chamber greeted him, the familiar obsidian rafters carved with runes. His body ached, wrapped in fresh bandages, the faint scent of healing herbs clinging to him.
Turning his head, his breath caught.
Selene sat in a chair beside the bed, her own arms wrapped in bandages, faint traces of blood still marking her gown. Even in sleep, her brow was furrowed, as though guarding him even in dreams.
"…Selene…" Asura's voice cracked, rough from exhaustion. He pushed himself upright, pain flaring, but ignored it. He swung his legs off the bed and staggered to her side.
The sound roused her. Her violet eyes fluttered open just as he collapsed against her, arms wrapping tight around her waist. His body shook, his voice trembling.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, words breaking apart. "I thought I lost you. I thought—" His hands tightened in the fabric of her dress, knuckles white. "I couldn't… I couldn't bear it…"
For a moment, Selene just stared down at him, surprise flickering across her face. Then her arms came up, hesitant at first, then firm, wrapping him close. Her voice was soft, steady, and just a little amused despite the ache in her body.
"Young master…" She smiled faintly. "You hug like a lost puppy. Did you think I was so easy to get rid of?"
Asura pulled back slightly, eyes blurring with tears, lips trembling in a half-sob, half-laugh. "…You almost died."
"And yet I didn't." She tapped his forehead lightly with one bandaged finger. "You forget—I promised to always stay by your side. You'll have to work much harder than that to get rid of me."
He blinked up at her, silent for a long moment, then buried his face against her again. "…Don't ever scare me like that again."
Selene chuckled softly, though her voice wavered with its own quiet relief. "Then stop giving me so many reasons to throw myself in front of blades for you."
For the first time in days, the chamber felt warm again.
✦ Return to Valoria
The capital of Valoria shimmered in pale dawnlight, its marble towers cutting through the fog like the spires of a sleeping giant. The enormous gates, embossed with the kingdom's crest, loomed ahead as the battered procession approached.
Sir Serphiel and Liora rode at the head beside their king. Behind them, the remaining knights—half their original number—marched in silence. Their armor was dented, their cloaks torn, and the soot of the Demon Realm still clung to their faces.
When they reached the gate, the guards stiffened, confusion flashing across their eyes.
"Who goes there? State your—"
The words died as they recognized the sigil on Erevos' cloak. Still, uncertainty lingered in their faces—the sight of their king returning in such company, his knights burned and bloodied, his expression unreadable.
One guard dared to step forward. "Y-Your Majesty… what—what happened? Were you attacked?"
Sir Serphiel's glare was enough to silence him. His voice rang cold and sharp. "Watch your tongue. The King stands before you. Open the gates."
"But, sir, the state of—"
Liora's voice cut through, crisp and precise. "You question the King's return? Would you prefer to explain your hesitation to him personally?"
That was enough. The guards bowed hastily and swung the massive gates open, the steel hinges groaning. Erevos said nothing as he passed, his gaze distant, fixed ahead. His presence alone was enough to make the soldiers wilt under its weight.
Inside the capital, whispers followed them. The procession was a grim spectacle—half their company gone, their weapons blackened, their faces drawn. Even the air seemed colder as they entered the grand hall of the palace.
✦ An Audience with a King
In the quiet of the throne chamber, the last echoes of their steps faded. Erevos stopped at the dais, cloak settling like spilled shadow. He turned slightly, eyes half-lidded, studying the two knights who still stood tall before him.
Sir Serphiel bowed low, sword tucked at his side. "Your Majesty, we failed to—"
Erevos raised a hand, silencing him. His voice was smooth and unhurried, but beneath it lingered something heavier. "Spare me the apologies, Serphiel. I am not blind." His gaze sharpened. "Tell me—your thoughts on the Demon King's heir."
Liora and Serphiel exchanged a glance. The silence stretched before Serphiel answered, his tone cautious but firm. "The boy is… not ordinary. His power defies measure. He wields techniques and energy signatures unlike anything we've recorded. Even his control over mana—raw, yet instinctive. It shouldn't be possible for one his age."
Erevos' eyes half-closed, thoughtful. "And that awakening?"
Liora stepped forward hesitantly, the memory still vivid in her mind—the suffocating aura, the crimson eyes, the markings that burned like living flame. "It wasn't… like the Demon Awakening the demons use. It was far beyond it. Something colder. More deliberate. When he transformed, it didn't feel like mana—it felt like divinity turned inside out."
Erevos smiled faintly, though there was no warmth in it. "You're not wrong." He turned his gaze to the towering window, where sunlight spilled through the stained glass, painting him in fractured gold. "The Demon Awakening… yes, I know it well. A power that amplifies one's blood and essence. Most demons can summon it briefly. But only a few have ever mastered it."
He turned back to them, voice low. "Azrael. The Grand Duke. The knight general—Keith Von Talon. And the Demon King himself."
Liora's breath caught. Hearing those names together was like reciting a pantheon.
Erevos' tone darkened, curiosity threading through the calm. "And now, this child—this Asura—has achieved it too. A full manifestation. His form was unstable, but complete. No signs of corruption, no mana decay. He's different."
He paused, a flicker of amusement passing through his eyes. "Almost… fascinating."
Serphiel frowned slightly. "You speak as though you're impressed, sire."
Erevos' lips curved, almost lazily. "Impressed? Perhaps. Concerned? Certainly." His gaze sharpened. "He has power that should not exist—not in this era. Which means someone, or something, is guiding it."
He turned away, voice dropping to a murmur. "And I intend to find out who."
The tension in the room thickened. Liora felt her throat tighten. For a moment, she almost spoke—but Erevos was already walking past them, his shadow long and cold.
"Rest, both of you. You've seen enough of hell for one lifetime."
As his footsteps faded, silence returned.
Liora stood still, her mind spinning. The boy's face—those golden eyes, the mix of fury and sorrow—flashed in her memory. He was a child. And yet… he had faced their king and lived.
She exhaled shakily, whispering to herself, "Wait… what happened to the Adventurers?"
Her voice barely reached Serphiel's ears.
And somewhere, deep in the heart of Valoria, the whispers of a coming storm began to stir.
✦ Reflections of the Djannjin King
The royal chambers of Valoria were silent—an immaculate stillness draped in velvet and dusk. Even the air seemed to bow within these walls, wary of the being who ruled them.
Erevos sat upon a throne of black-mirrored stone, high beneath the arched window of stained glass where dying sunlight fractured into gold and crimson shards. The hues split across his figure like a duel of heaven and hell, painting him in both sanctity and sin.
One hand rested beneath his chin, gloved fingers tracing the line of his jaw as his eyes—crimson flecked with molten gold—glimmered faintly against the candlelight. Long black hair spilled across his shoulders, reflecting the faint pulse of runes that crept from beneath his cuffs and vanished into skin that was far too perfect, far too still.
The last Djannjin.
A miracle that defied its own birthright.
A paradox of wish and curse.
He exhaled softly, the sound more like a sigh than breath. "Akaris…"
The single word warped the air. Candles trembled, flames bending away as if the name carried gravity. It was not a mortal term. It was divine—the language of gods, uttered in a tongue forgotten before humankind learned speech.
Erevos's gaze lowered. Beneath the surface calm, the memory burned: a child on a battlefield of collapsing mana, eyes golden as twin suns, tearing reality itself apart. He had felt it—pressure unlike any since the Divine War. The same taste as when the heavens cracked and angels burned.
"That boy," Erevos murmured, voice smooth as poured obsidian. "The Demon King's blood should not hold such resonance… yet his does."
He rose from the throne, robes whispering like a tide of night. The polished marble sang faintly beneath each measured step. When he reached the window, dusk had surrendered to full darkness, the last strands of sunlight dying across the horizon.
His reflection stared back—regal, still, yet wrong. For within the glass, faint golden fractures spider-webbed beneath his skin, pulsing softly like veins of living light. They glowed, then dimmed, as if his body itself argued against remaining contained.
He lifted his palm, studying the faint shimmer of power that clung there. "So this is what your awakening stirs, child… echoes even in me."
A quiet chuckle escaped him—low, elegant, edged in weariness.
"How quaint. After all these centuries, the gods' flame returns not to their worshipers, but to a demon's heir."
He turned, trailing a hand across the carved runes in the marble floor. They hummed in answer—an ancient script only he still understood, the language of Djinn and Majin fused. Light shimmered briefly under his touch, twisting the air with fragments of half-formed worlds—possibilities bending, destinies trembling.
"The Demon King hides his monsters well," he whispered. "And still, he does not realize what sleeps beneath his roof."
For an instant, the chamber rippled—walls bending as though time itself hesitated. Erevos's pupils thinned, and power bled from his aura like slow smoke. Reality wavered, showing brief flashes of somewhere else: a burning field beneath falling stars, a crown of light shattered in two, the Demon King himself roaring across the heavens while Erevos stood beside the Fallen Angels.
Then the vision died.
He steadied his breath, the faint smile returning. "Ah… memories."
He walked back to the throne, his movements deliberate, every fold of his robe whispering control. "Humans still pray to the gods. Their priests speak of divine justice, of miracles… yet not one among them understands what destruction truly costs."
Settling once more upon the black-mirrored seat, Erevos drummed his fingers lightly against the armrest. "Akaris. Destruction. The unmaking of existence itself. Only the gods could wield it without recoil. Until now."
His eyes narrowed, twin embers within the half-light. "For Asura Satomi to touch it—instinctively—means the fabric of creation itself remembers. Perhaps the gods left their mark deeper than I thought."
He leaned back, the faintest smile curling his lips—no warmth, only fascination. "The last time I felt that art, it devoured its wielders. Gods erased by their own perfection. But perhaps… this time will be different."
He let the idea linger, tasting the word as though savoring forbidden wine.
"If that boy continues to awaken unchecked, he could redraw the laws of our world. Demon, god, human—none of it would matter. The hierarchy would collapse."
He rested his chin upon his knuckles once more, the candlelight tracing his features like sculpted glass. "And if that happens… perhaps I could finally see what lies beyond destiny."
The runes beneath the throne dimmed, their hum fading into silence. Shadows coiled at the edges of the chamber like attentive hounds.
Erevos's gaze drifted toward the distant horizon—toward the Demon Realm.
"So, Asura Satomi," he murmured, voice smooth as silk and sharp as prophecy. "Will you burn this world as the gods once did… or will you surpass even them?"
A faint smile touched his lips as the candles guttered out, one by one.
"Let us see what the heir of demons can teach the last of Djannjin."
And as the room descended into darkness, the golden fractures beneath his skin flared once more—like the heartbeat of something divine that refused to die.