A series of exhausted pants and gasps echoed in the land. The grey landscape was filled with the sound of explosions and destruction.
Death hung gravely in the atmosphere as air attempted to flow into Michael's lungs. His eyes drifted around the area—dead bodies littered the floor—both friend and foe.
His fingers could barely grip the hilt of his sword properly. All his mana had been drained in this final battle.
A low chuckle escaped his lips. Victory had finally been upon them. The demon king was dead—killed by his hands.
The rotting and decaying body at his feet was proof. Humanity was safe—and would be ushered into a new era of peace.
But something felt… off.
The battle was over. Their leader was dead—so why weren't the demons turning to ash?
An eerie force washed over him. Power like never seen before invaded his senses—a feeling of dread overwhelmed him.
Michael's foot remained stuck in place. His brain urged him to run, to hide—even to die—but he couldn't move.
The person looked to be less than six years old, yet his aura was terrifying. The ground beneath his feet cracked—and the air shone with power and energy.
His footsteps echoed in Michael's ears as a silhouette appeared in sight. His presence alone spoke volumes about his power—stunning the legendary knight of Mizano.
As the figure drew closer and closer to Michael's still form—the feeling of his heartbeat became more and more prominent. The thumping sound was a vivid reminder that…
He could die at any second.
To his joy, the boy simply walked past him. His feet stopped at the sight of the disintegrating demon king.
The boy's voice was soft and vulnerable—a tone only a child could have. His next few words defined Michael's fate.
"Dad… why did you have to die?"
Michael's face contorted instantly. Terror gripped his entire being like a crushing, iron vice. Beads of sweat trickled down his face like a waterfall.
This was the Demon Prince, the son of the Demon King. Rumor had spread that the Demon King bore an offspring—but it was just a rumor and couldn't be confirmed.
But the proof lay right in front of him. A monster of calamity stood calmly, gazing at the body of his father—which Michael had personally killed.
In the heat of the moment, his feet barely moved an inch. The realization dawned on him—hitting him like a freight train.
If he didn't prioritize his life now…
He would most surely die.
But at the last second, the Demon Prince materialized at his side. His fingers wrapped around Michael's large arm.
Although even with his muscular physique, a feeling of powerlessness shot through him. His emotions peaked as he felt the young boy's hand grip his arm tightly.
"I don't want you to leave." The Demon Prince's eyes were covered, blocked from sight by his dark orange hair. But even still, an aura of sheer fury and anger radiated off them in waves.
"I want you to die," he said. In the next second, everything was a blur for Michael. All feeling left his right arm as it was brutally torn off.
The sensation of ligaments tearing and bones breaking filled Michael with excruciating agony. But his pride wouldn't let him scream. His pride as a knight was undying—even in defeat.
"I want you to suffer in your final moments of life." The Demon Prince's tone was deadly. Voice as cold as ice—it pierced through the raging sounds of battle. "But it would be better to do this instead."
His hand reached into a pouch by his side. Gripped intricately within his fingers was a tiny glass ball—a shrunken person banging on its side.
Michael's eyes widened at the sight. The person trapped within the wall was someone he knew all too well.
"Sofia…" a breathless mutter escaped Michael's lips.
Sofia Peterson, a member of the same knight order which he served—the knights of the White Cloud.
And the girl… he was set to marry.
"In this situation, you have two choices," the voice of the Demon Prince was filled with finality—no objections possible. "Either you attack me to try and save her… or you run away with your tail in between your legs to save yourself."
The next moment, Michael's decision had been made. His grip left his blade completely, releasing it as it fell to the ground.
The tiny iota of mana that Michael still had could hardly flow within him. The very basic level of mana enhancement filled him with a sense of power—but disgrace strengthened in his heart.
An amused but expectant smile graced the corners of the Demon Prince's lips. The sight filled him with an odd sense of satisfaction and confirmation.
"I always told you father… humans are nothing more than cowards willing to do anything to get their way."
Each time Michael's feet hit the ground in an attempt to traverse more distance, the feeling of his lungs giving out any second became even more excruciating.
The stump of his right arm bled in haste, the red liquid flowing out like it was trying to win a race.
But even though the pain persisted, determination echoed constantly in his soul. His trembling fingers began to steady. The beat of his heartbeat flowed to a steady rhythm. His arm extended, gripping the stump of his left arm—even tighter than he had held his sword mere moments prior.
Michael's legs and feet burned with an overwhelming need. This was Michael the Righteous—failure was not an option.
But even still, tears prickled at the corners of his eyes—grief and self-loathing filled him. Abandoning the mission, leaving his lover to die, prioritizing his own life over his comrades. This was the scum Michael had become.
But a single thought managed to calm his raging heart.
'I'm sorry everyone… but I need to live so everyone else doesn't die.'
The instant Michael passed through the portal to the human realm was the day Michael the Righteous… died.
With no proof to show otherwise, and the large amount of blood on the scene, Michael Reynolds was presumed dead in battle.
But with his great feat of killing the Demon King, the end of the demon era had been achieved—and peace would begin anew.
But dark forces lay rising within the ashes of an era once broken. The mighty Demon Prince still lived—and he was more than willing to continue his father's legacy.
He would avenge the death of his father and bring an end to the human race.
For nothing in life… is everlasting.
…..
Days passed, then weeks, then months. Time flew by in a blur. Michael had been officially recognized by the people as a holy figure—the man who had slain the Demon King—and had sacrificed himself to do so.
But none knew the truth.
Michael had stayed in hiding, secluded, alone—hiding in an abandoned building.
In a cold and desolate room, his head rested against the confines of his pillow. His wounds had been mostly treated—but the sight of his right arm still frightened him.
But when sleep came, nightmares arose to follow. The image of the Demon Prince haunted him deeply.
Sleep had successfully evaded him for weeks on end—and he was drawing on the little energy he had left.
In the dark corners of Michael's house, his eyes shot open. Their black pupils had turned blood red due to lack of sleep.
Sweat poured down his skin like a slow, deliberate stream. Each droplet evoked a feeling of sickness. Vomit gathered at the edge of his throat—but he sucked it in.
The sound of his own heart filled the room. His fingers gripped the side of his hair—it was falling out.
His hands trembled with fear. He wasn't afraid of the power—he feared what it could do to the world.
The expression on Michael's face was ever-changing—from terrified to conflicted to unsure.
Another nightmare, the same as always—the Demon Prince had killed him. The world erased beneath his foot, everyone Michael loved—dead.
Both human, elven, dwarven, demon, giant, and spirit kind—ruled under him.
The power that boy held could dominate the world—but he wouldn't let it.
"That kind of power shouldn't be held by anyone."
Michael's tired voice held every sense of certainty. Sweat trickled down his nose even as he spoke.
"I will create an existence that will triumph against that monster. A beast which will go against all the world's natural laws. Someone—or something—that will finish what I could not. And his name shall be… Arthur."
CHAPTER END