In a world where humans lived in comfort, an army of demons had appeared for ten long years. They came from an unknown dimension—a place where time felt eternal and light was almost nonexistent.
During that time, the world became infested with demons. None of them bore any resemblance to humans; they looked as if they had stepped out of a nightmare... all except for the Demon King.
Mages fought desperately to protect the people they had sworn to defend. Even the nations of the world united to stand against these infernal creatures.
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The war reached its end one night, when the knights advanced toward the castle that the Demon King had built tirelessly over those ten years.
Thanks to the long years of battle, new warriors had risen—men and women willing to fight for their future and for their families, hoping to restore the peace that existed before the invasion.
Upon reaching the castle, they surrounded it in complete silence. The general, a man in his sixties, communicated only with hand signals, directing his soldiers into position. It was an operation they had planned and rehearsed countless times.
But the Demon King already knew.
When the gates were finally torn down, they found him sitting calmly on his throne. He offered no resistance, as if he had already surrendered.
"Oh, I suppose I didn't have time to hide," he said with a carefree smile, shrugging his shoulders.
He didn't stand, nor did he attempt to move. He simply stayed there, composed. The knights filled the lower halls of the castle, while others moved upstairs, searching for any sign of humans.
There had been rumors—two years ago, a young woman around twenty had mysteriously vanished. The Demon King had long been suspected, but that theory quickly faded when they found no one else inside the castle.
The general raised his hand, signaling toward the throne. The message was clear: "Stay alert, and don't lower your guard."
The Demon King remained seated, his legs crossed, dressed in a black suit. His dark hair fell neatly around him, and his silver eyes shone with a cunning intellect. Yet his expression wasn't that of a defeated ruler.
"At last... after so much bloodshed... this war will finally end," the general said, his gaze a mixture of nostalgia and relief.
Everyone knew it: if they killed the Demon King now, peace could finally return. It was what the whole world wanted. And with that certainty, the general lowered his hand.
From all directions, they opened fire.
Weapons of pure light—faster than sound—pierced through the air, aimed straight at the throne. The Demon King didn't move. He took the blasts without flinching, as if nothing mattered anymore.
When the attack ceased, silence fell like a heavy curtain. A moment that felt like an eternity. As if everyone waited... for something... anything.
One soldier broke into a smile. He lowered his weapon.
"It's over… It's finally over..."
Slowly, the others did the same, exchanging glances filled with emotion that words couldn't express.
But then... a laugh.
"Huh? Haha... HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!"
The laugh came from the Demon King, who now stood on his feet. His body was covered in wounds, barely able to support itself. And yet, he smiled—victorious.
"Do you really think this is over? You're completely mistaken... This is only the beginning. Many years from now, something far worse will come—something that will plunge this world into a chaos far greater than anything you've faced."
"General... do you truly believe it all ends here? Come now, tell me..."
His tone was mocking, but his words couldn't be ignored. The tension returned immediately. The air grew heavier, and fear began to creep into the soldiers' expressions.
One of them, still holding his weapon and with his heart pounding, raised his arm again. His courage boiled over—he couldn't hold back any longer.
But just before he could shoot, a figure appeared in front of the Demon King—a young woman with pale skin, dark hair, and dressed in white. She ran forward and spread her arms to shield him.
She was the girl who had disappeared two years ago.
"Please... don't shoot him anymore!"
But her words came too late.
The shot fired. And it hit her.
A deathly silence fell over the room. No one had expected it. The tragedy struck like a freezing wave, leaving them all frozen in place.
The knight who had fired dropped his weapon. His hands trembled, and his face twisted in shock. He clutched his head and muttered, "What... what have I done…?"
They all rushed toward the throne. The Demon King was collapsing. Blood dripped from his wounds, but with the last of his strength, he dragged himself toward her.
"You should've run away with the child…" he whispered with a broken voice.
"Don't worry... I left him somewhere safe. I'm sure... he'll live well," she replied softly, her voice barely a breath, her smile faint.
Those were her final words.
The Demon King took her hand. He crawled a few more inches—refusing to die until he reached her—until his body finally went still.
It wasn't the ending anyone had hoped for. But it was real. And it was right before their eyes.
The only thing they could do now... was prepare for what he had foretold.
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That same night, near a tall tree, a small basket sat beneath the pouring rain. The storm was intense, and the faint sound of crying could be heard.
A woman, around thirty years old, passed nearby. She wore a blue cloak, and above her glowed a high-level magical circle that shielded her from the rain.
Hearing the cries, she paused. She followed the sound until she found the basket. Her eyes widened in surprise as she approached.
"A baby...? What are you doing here? Where are your parents?" she asked softly, her voice filled with warmth.
She knelt down carefully and saw the child, wrapped only in a blanket. Gently, she lifted him into her arms.
"I'll take you to a home. From now on... I'll raise you as if you were my own. I was never able to have one..."
She held him close to her chest.
Unknowingly, that woman had found the child who would one day change the fate of the world.
That child would grow up in a small home deep within the forest, far from war, unaware of the true origin of his blood... or the weight his existence would bring to the future.