The next morning broke with a deceptive peace. The sun ascended into a vibrant sky, painting the world in shades of gold, while the morning birds sang melodies that danced upon the scent of blooming flowers.
Inside the infirmary, however, King Fude was wandering through a different world—a world of dreams and shadows.
In the mist of his subconscious, Fude stood before two ethereal figures. He gasped, looking down at his form.
For a moment, he wasn't the jelly he had become; he saw his original body, the one he had inhabited before his death and rebirth.
"Where am I?" Fude asked, his voice echoing in the void.
Two women stood before him, radiating power that made the very air tremble. One glowed with a celestial, calming light; the other shimmered with an intense, chaotic darkness.
"You are here because there are truths you must carry," the radiant one spoke.
"First," Fude countered, bracing himself, "who are you, and what could you possibly want with me?"
The lady of light stepped forward. "I am Vega, the Queen of the Heavens."
The other, her eyes like smoldering embers, smiled dangerously. "And I am Rin, the Queen of the Abyss. Together, we are the architects of this world, Fude."
Fude felt the weight of their gaze and bowed instinctively. "I... I crave your pardon, my Queens. I did not recognize the hands that shaped me."
Rin, the Devil Queen, stepped closer. "Fude, you have been plucked from the stream of time for a purpose. An immortal task has been carried by King Leobarko since his youth. Now, the wheel turns. It is your time to take up the mantle."
Before Fude could process the gravity of her words, a muffled, frantic voice began to bleed into the dream. "King Fude! Why won't you open your eyes? Please!"
"Listen well," Vega whispered as the dream began to fracture. "When you wake, the memory of this meeting will slip through your fingers like sand. But the truth remains: you are the Successor. Wait for the moment of revelation."
"Successor? What do you mean? Wait!" Fude cried out, reaching into the white light.
His eyes snapped open. The transition was jarring. Instead of goddesses, he saw the tear-streaked faces of his companions. Dazzley was hunched over, her head buried in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably alongside Ongo and Oberko.
"Why are you all wailing like children?" Fude's voice rang out, sharp and vibrating with life. "I haven't died yet, remember?"
The room went silent. Dazzley looked up, her eyes wide and red.
"Dazzley, I expected better from you," Fude teased, though his tone was warm. "Did you truly think your King would pass away in his sleep after surviving the horrors of the battlefield? I am not so easily extinguished."
The grief in the room vanished, replaced by a wave of relief so thick it was palpable. They crowded around his jelly form, offering a collective embrace.
"We knew you were strong," Ongo choked out, "but when you wouldn't respond, the fear simply took hold."
"Enough of that," Fude said, his jelly body pulsating with renewed energy. "I want to go for a walk. I've been confined to this bed since the war ended, and I feel fit as a fiddle."
The royal physician stepped forward, checking the glow of Fude's translucent body. "It is a miracle. Your mana has fully restored itself. You are fit for travel, King Fude. What is your command? Shall we return to our tribe?"
Fude looked toward the window. "Not yet. I want to see the beauty of the Wellko Kingdom properly.
Every time I come here, it is for blood and steel. I wish to see what we are actually fighting to protect. We shall march for our tribe at evening's end."
Oberko stepped forward, his expression darkening. "Fude, there is something you should know. My scout, Ame, has sent word. King Leobarko has vanished from his seat. He is no longer at his palace."
Fude's mind raced. Where would a man like Leobarko go at a time like this?
Suddenly, a familiar mechanical humour
resonated in his mind.
[Master Fude, I believe King Leobarko has gone to mobilize his true military force. He is preparing for a final confrontation.]
Karko! Fude thought, his heart leaping. You've returned. I feared you were destroyed during my recklessness in the battle for Wellko.
[I did not 'destroy,' Master,] the system replied coolly. [My mana reserves were critically low. I entered a dormant state to preserve your core functions during the Elko Tribe conflict. I am operational once more.]
Tell me, Karko. Do you sense something coming? Something... foul?
[Analyzing tactical shifts... King Seriko is a master of the long game. My processors suggest his next move will not be a direct assault, but something designed to fracture your alliances. I am a system, Master, but even I can calculate that a storm is breaking.]
"Thank you, Karko. I've missed your pessimism," Fude muttered internally. He then turned to his friends. "Ongo, prepare the men. We leave at dusk. But first, I walk."
As Fude turned to leave, Dazzley blocked the path, her hands on her hips. "You aren't going anywhere on an empty stomach, King Fude. Sit."
"Dazzley, I can eat at a stall in the city—"
"No," she interrupted firmly. "Liska! Bring the meal."
A young attendant named Liska entered, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of rice. She handed it to Dazzley with a shy nod and retreated. Without a word of protest, Fude sat as Dazzley began to feed him. He ate in silence, realizing that her fussing was her way of coping with the terror of almost losing him.
Once finished, Fude finally stepped out of the hospital and into the open air. He took a deep breath, the fresh wind revitalizing his spirit. "I missed this more than I can say."
Welfcone approached, his massive frame casting a shadow. "My King, if you wish to see the kingdom, it would be my honor to carry you. It is safer that way."
"Very well, Welfcone," Fude agreed, hopping onto his companion's shoulder. High above them, Keo Duro watched from the rooftops, his form hidden by a magic cloak, acting as a silent guardian in the shadows.
The March of the Damned
While Fude sought peace, General Nokaro was delivering war.
The demon general and his troop of twenty monsters had covered a staggering one hundred and twenty kilometers in a single night. They were now a mere thirty meters from the outskirts of the Holy Church's territory.
"Halt!" Nokaro commanded, his golden skin glinting under the sun. "We rest here for a few minutes. Water the demon horses at the riverbank. We strike when the sun begins to dip."
Nokaro sat apart from his men, pulling a small, battered pendant from beneath his armor. He clicked it open. Inside was a faded photograph, a relic of a life he had lived before he became a monster of legend.
A flicker of regret—a ghost of a human emotion—crossed his face as he stared at the person he had lost.
Then, his jaw tightened. He snapped the pendant shut. The weak are destined to die at the hands of the strong, he reminded himself. Regret is a luxury for those who aren't soldiers.
He stood up, his massive height looming over the trees. "Mount up!" he roared to his troops. "The Church thinks they are protected by God. Let's show them what a real devil looks like."
With a thunder of hooves, the demons began their final march toward the unsuspecting sanctuary.