A Few Months Later – The Kingdom of Bergen
Home to the many grand Holy Churches of the Holy Knights, the Kingdom of Bergen stood like a blade in the light, self-righteous and proud.
Heavy boots thundered down a long hallway.
Laboured breath. Shaking legs.
The great double doors slammed open.
A young Knight burst into the chamber, barely steady on his feet, lungs heaving. He halted just inside, gasping for air, then straightened with effort.
"Sir! Urgent news!"
The room was vast—a long stone corridor bathed in golden light from a towering stained-glass window. A polished war-table dominated the center, flanked by maps, relics, and weapons. To the right, a modest bar stocked with aged wine. Opposite it, a wall bore a smaller double door, leading into the private chambers of the Holy Knight Commander.
Seated at the head of the table was George—the Iron Flame of the Church.
Gold radiated from his armor, trimmed with navy-blue streaks and silver pauldrons as wide as a bull's shoulders. His cape bore the radiant sigil of the Church, navy trailing behind. A black eyepatch covered his left eye, and smoke curled from a thick cigar clenched in his teeth. Bald at the crown, gray hair ringed his head like a steel wreath. A long sword hung at his waist.
He didn't rise. Didn't speak.
He simply stared.
The Knight froze under that withering glare, every instinct screaming to flee. George's voice, when it came, was low and razor-edged.
"If this isn't urgent… I'll have your head."
"Y-Yes, Sir! The Seers have detected an enormous magic surge—deep within a demon village northeast of here! Roughly two countries away, but the reading was unlike anything they've seen before. Sir!"
George's lip curled. He rubbed his beard, pinched his moustache, and exhaled disgustedly.
"Those vermin gave birth to a Noble Demon… but stronger than any newborn noble has a right to be."
He narrowed his gaze.
"And what proof do you have that it was birth, and not some foul experiment?"
The Knight flinched. "I—I don't, Sir! It's only speculation based on—"
"Speculation?" George's voice thundered. "You dare barge in with maybes?"
"S-Sir, forgive me! But regardless of the origin, it's powerful, and we believe—"
"I don't care if they carved it from hellfire or squeezed it from a womb. If it breathes demon air and reeks of noble mana, it dies."His magic flared—golden, furious, divine.
"Send word to two of our Holy Knights—the master bowman and the mage. They may choose their squads. I'm done tolerating these parasites."
The Knight saluted, bowed, and scrambled out, the double doors closing with a final thud.
George leaned back, cigar smoke curling in his fury.
"I'll raze that entire village to ash… and make an example of anyone who threatens the Kingdom of Bergen. No mercy. No forgiveness."
He slammed his fist into the table.
It split cleanly down the middle.
Two Months After Sirus's Birth – Demon Empire
Far from human cities and holy empires, within the burning heart of the Demon Empire, sat a being of power that rivaled the gods of men.
His throne, carved from obsidian and bone, overlooked a grand citadel draped in shadow and crimson banners.
Lucifer.
Four meters tall. Wings vast and jagged, colored in black and blood-red. His skin glowed like cooling magma, and his crown of horns twisted upward like the thorns of a god-forged halo. Long black hair, a braided beard, fangs like swords. His tail coiled like a living weapon—black base, crimson tip shaped like a spearhead.
He groaned, stretching his massive frame.
"Ugh… this cursed back. How many centuries must I wait before a worthy heir emerges? But… curious."
He frowned.
"That presence… It shouldn't be there. Not in some backwater village…"
The throne room doors opened without a knock—responding to his will. A young demon flew gracefully, hovering above the floor.
Linda.
Shoulder-length crimson hair, obsidian eyes, long pointed ears. Her outfit blended military formality and youthful flair—black skirt, snow-white trim, a matching ribbon belt. Her wings were small, black on top, white below. Her long tail shimmered with a fading gradient from black to snow-white. Around her neck, a black chain bore a violet crystal pulsing faintly.
She clutched a wooden notepad and pen, posture respectful.
"Yes, my King. You summoned me?"
"LINDA!" Lucifer's roar shook the foundations. He coughed. "Speak with your chest, girl. You're not a hatchling."
"S-sorry. How may I serve?"
He sighed. "Dispatch scouts. South. 27 kilometers. There's an awakening. Strong magic in a nameless village."
She tilted her head. "But my King, that's just one of the fringe villages. No known bloodlines of strength live there."
"I know. Do as I say."
"Understood." She bowed deeply, wings flaring as she took off, closing the throne room doors behind her.
Lucifer sat still for a moment.
A heavy silence fell.
"The Holy Knights will likely arrive first. Let them test it. If this newborn truly bears the power I sense… then perhaps…"
He let out a long, slow breath.
"…perhaps I may finally sleep."
The firelight danced across his skin as his eyes drifted to the heavens he could never reach.
"Challenge me, little demon. I await your roar."