Silence swallowed the hall.
Blood pooled across the stone floor, dripping slowly from the edges of shattered armor. No one screamed. No one moved. Even death itself seemed uncertain.
The ruler remained on his knees.
The smile had not left his face.
His daughter stood frozen beside him, her throat unmarked. The blade that had kissed her skin moments ago was gone—so were the men who held it.
The invaders lay scattered across the hall.
No wounds.No bloodshed upon them.Only eyes wide with confusion.
A presence descended.
It was not killing intent.It was weight—as if the world itself had leaned inward.
The ruler's breath trembled. His hands shook against the stone floor, strength long abandoned by age and grief.
A shadow stretched across the ground behind the throne.
It moved.
A figure stepped forward—soundless, unannounced. The torches lining the hall flickered violently, their flames bowing away from him as if unwilling to stand upright in his presence.
A silver mask caught the firelight.
Behind it, eyes opened—ancient, distant, yet unmistakably aware.
The ruler felt it then.
Not fear.
Relief.
A hand rested lightly on his shoulder.
The touch carried no warmth, yet the crushing pressure that filled the hall eased—just enough for him to breathe.
"You endured," Lucifer said quietly.
The ruler's vision blurred. His body failed him at last, but he did not fall. The weight that held him upright was not his own.
"I am late," Lucifer continued, his voice steady. "But this land is not lost."
The ruler clenched his staff, tears spilling freely now.
"My Lord… Lucifer."
The name echoed without sound, as if the hall itself remembered it.
Lucifer's gaze shifted to the corpses scattered across the floor.
"They laughed," he said.
His voice carried no anger. That was what made it unbearable.
"They believed you were a rumor," the ruler replied.
Lucifer tilted his head slightly.
"A familiar error."
Outside the keep, screams rose—cut short almost immediately. Men fell where they stood, some mid-step, others clutching their chests as their bodies simply… stopped.
Lucifer turned away.
"Purge the land," he said. "Those who came to take it—leave none."
A shadow peeled itself from the wall and vanished.
The ruler swallowed hard. "The Great War… the world believes you disappeared with it."
Lucifer paused at the doorway.
"For the world," he said calmly, "I did."
He stepped forward, every movement silent.
"But legends do not die," he added. "They wait."
As he passed, the ruler's daughter felt warmth brush against her fear—gentle, unfamiliar.
Then he was gone.
The ruler collapsed at last, tears soaking the blood-stained stone.
Beyond the region's borders, far from this forgotten land, ancient forces stirred.
Because the Soul Knight had taken a step.
And the world would soon remember why it had tried so desperately to forget him.