I was cursed to slay demons for all eternity......so what?

**Premise / Synopsis:** In the shattered remnants of a world where the veil between realms tore open centuries ago, demons pour through endless rifts like black blood from a never-healing wound. Humanity clings to survival behind towering barrier cities, praying to forgotten gods and hiring desperate slayers to keep the tide at bay. Evander Storm was once just another arrogant young blade-for-hire—cocky, talented, and stupid enough to accept a solo contract on a sealed rift rumored to contain an Archdemon's heart. He succeeded. He also died. Or he was *supposed* to. Instead, the dying Archdemon laughed with its last breath and spat a curse older than the stars: "You who slew my kin shall become the blade that carves eternity. You will hunt every demon, every fiend, every crawling horror that dares breathe in this world or the next. You cannot die until the last demon is dust… and even then, the hunt continues." For three hundred years, Evander has been the immortal boogeyman of demonkind and humanity alike. They sing ballads about the Black Blade who never dies. They burn effigies of the cursed slayer who brings ruin wherever he walks. And Evander? He's *tired*. Not tired of killing—he's terrifyingly good at that. Tired of the endless cycle. Tired of watching civilizations rise and fall while he stays the same blood-soaked monster. Tired of the curse whispering that maybe, just maybe, letting the demons win would finally let him rest. So when a brand-new cataclysmic rift opens—one spewing demon lords and reality-warping abominations—he doesn't rush in like the "hero" the world expects. He shows up late. Drinking in a ruined bar. Smirking at the panicking messengers begging for his help. "I was cursed to slay demons for all eternity..." He downs the last of his whiskey, cracks his neck, and stands. "...so what?" Because this time, he's not fighting to save the world. He's fighting to see if he can finally break the curse—or break the world trying.