The glow of the system faded as I closed the shop, slumping back into my chair. My remaining balance blinked at the corner of the screen—500 points. Barely anything.
All that for faster renovations.
"All worth it," I muttered under my breath… though the tiny flicker of doubt in my chest refused to die out.
Velzithar didn't say anything, but I could feel her there—quiet, steady, like a pulse at the back of my mind.
I called for Gregor, pacing as I waited. The renovations were ahead of schedule, sure, but they'd drained the treasury and my system both. If I wanted to keep pushing forward, I needed gold—and fast.
The heavy doors opened. Gregor stepped in, expression sharp as always.
"You called for me, Your Majesty?"
"Yeah." I pointed to the stack of reports spread out on the table. "The city's rebuilding faster than expected. But the cost… it's steep. Pull more funds from the treasury. Whatever we can afford without leaving the borders defenseless."
Gregor frowned. "How much are we talking?"
"As much as you can move," I said simply.
He nodded once, though hesitation flickered in his eyes. "I'll handle it. Anything else?"
Before I could answer, a loud knock echoed through the room. The doors burst open, and a messenger stumbled inside, pale and breathless.
"Y–Your Majesty!" he gasped. "Urgent news from the western border. The village of Darrow's Hollow—it's under attack!"
Gregor stiffened immediately. "By who?"
The messenger swallowed hard. "Not who, sir. What. Demons."
The room went dead quiet.
"They've already burned half the village," the man continued, voice shaking. "The survivors are fleeing east. The local militia can't hold them off."
"Demons," Gregor muttered, his hand instinctively brushing the hilt of his sword. "That's no random raid… this sounds organized."
"Which means someone's behind it," I said, my mind racing. "Do we know who's leading them?"
"Rumors, sire," the messenger said quietly. "They say… it might be a prelude to the Demon King's resurgence."
The words hit harder than I expected. The Demon King. Even without ever seeing him, I'd heard enough stories to know—he wasn't a myth. He was calamity given form.
Velzithar's voice cut through the silence, cold and sharp.
"If the Demon King's army is moving again… this is only the start. You can't afford hesitation."
"I'm not hesitating," I said aloud.
Gregor looked at me. "You're going to lead this yourself, aren't you?"
I met his eyes and nodded. "Gather fifty of our best. I'll meet you in the courtyard within the hour."
"Fifty?" he repeated. "Sire, with all due respect, if this really is the Demon King's vanguard—"
"Then we stop them before they gain ground," I cut him off. "I won't sit in this castle while my people burn."
He hesitated only a moment longer before bowing. "Understood."
The courtyard came alive within minutes—armor clattering, horses snorting, banners snapping in the morning wind. Fifty soldiers stood ready, their faces hard but determined.
They didn't question why their king was riding at the front. They just followed.
"Darrow's Hollow is two days out," I said, my voice carrying over the crowd. "We ride fast and strike hard. Those demons have already taken enough from us—let's make sure they take no more."
A low murmur of resolve rippled through the formation.
As we rode out, Velzithar's voice hummed softly in my mind.
"Fifty soldiers won't be enough if this truly ties back to the Demon King."
"It's enough for now," I said. "And if it's not—then numbers won't matter anyway."
She gave a faint, humorless chuckle. "You're starting to sound like me."
Two days later, the smell hit first—smoke, ash, and something else. Burnt flesh.
By the time we crested the last ridge, I could see the village. Or what was left of it.
Darrow's Hollow was a ruin. The sky glowed orange from the fires that still burned. Houses were nothing but blackened skeletons of wood and stone. And amid the smoke, shadows moved.
Dozens of them.
Their bodies were cracked with glowing veins of molten fire, eyes like living coals. Their snarls carried over the flames.
And then I saw him.
At the center stood a massive demon clad in jagged armor, his horns curved like a crown of rusted blades. The ground seemed to quake with every step he took.
Gregor's voice dropped to a low growl. "That's no grunt… that's a commander."
"Then he's mine," I said, drawing Velzithar. Her crimson glow flickered in the smoky air, hungry for blood.
"Careful," she murmured. "This is just the beginning."
I raised the blade high.
"Form ranks! Hold the line!" I shouted. "We fight together—no one dies alone today!"
The soldiers roared in unison, steel meeting steel as they surged forward.
The demons turned, their glowing eyes locking on us as they charged back, a wave of fire and fury.
And as the clash began, the bond between Velzithar and I ignited—her power flooding through me like liquid fire. My heartbeat steadied. My vision sharpened.
This wasn't just another battle.
This was a message.
The battle for Darrow's Hollow had begun.