History is but an endless cycle of strife. Where there is peace, war is bound to follow.
As the dark clouds approached from the horizon, a hooded woman draped in a decorated robe rushed through the rain. She passed through the gates to her family estate, her footsteps heavy against the flooded pavement.
Every step stole her breath. And with each ragged inhale, the weight in her chest deepened as she pushed the grand doors of the mansion wide open.
"Karlon!" she shouted at the top her lungs. "Caelus! Celine! Kids, where are you?!"
Nothing. Then, a pair of footsteps came clacking down from a nearby corridor. The woman turned, hopeful, but when she saw the head maid's face, that hope crumbled.
"My Lady..." the maid mumbled.
"Elena..."
The woman darted at her, putting her arms on her shoulder.
"Elena. Where are they? Where is my family?!"
The maid, Elena, opened her mouth to speak, but the moment she did, her voice hitched. She sniffled, lost her breath, and soon... the tears fell.
"They've gone, My Lady..." she replied as steadily as she could. "By order of Emperor D'Angelica… House Luvelaine was sent to Pale Valley. To face the Archdemon alone."
The woman gasped, the color having been drained from her eyes. Her heart pounded and her lips trembled... until she could no longer take it.
Clutching at Elena's uniform, she collapsed to her knees and wailed — a sound so raw it rattled the cold, empty halls. But her cries would never reach them.
Upon the highest hill in the Pale Valley, one man stood before the storm. Blood seeped from the punctures in his armor, the dark blots staining the steel.
Behind him lay the battered remnants of his army. Injured, exhausted, and demoralized. And before him... he could hardly believe what he saw.
By his hand and those of his men, hundreds of demons had fallen this day. Yet against the thousands still marching toward them, it was impossible not to wonder if their sacrifice had meant anything at all.
Here, the heavens offered no reprieve, for the sun's light had been completely devoured.
Still, he did not cower, but the same could not be said for those behind him.
"And here... the Shaduwar has reached its twilight," he muttered. "May you guide our path, Goddess Elysia."
From his left, a young woman approached, clad in armor marked with the same house sigil. She held her younger brother by the arm, steadying the boy whose face was pale with fear.
"Father..." she murmured. "What... are your orders?"
He hesitated.
"...We fight."
His gaze swept over the wounded faces of his comrades, ready but ultimately fatigued.
"Today, we finish what we came here to do. Raise your sword, Celine. The light of the Goddess shall shine upon the flag of House Luvelaine once more. I swear it."
"Yes, Father," she answered, her voice steady.
The demon army continued until it came to a halt at the foot of the hill. It was only then that the knight saw them for what they truly were.
Some bore the twisted guise of men. Others resembled beasts, and some were things so grotesque and unnatural that it seemed a miracle such abominations could exist.
It did not matter. Demons, all the same.
The horde parted, splitting down the middle to form a path through their ranks. From the darkness stepped a lone figure. A man in a black tunic and light armor with a tattered cape trailing behind him.
He moved to the front of the army and gazed up the hill.
And the knight was struck by what he saw.
The figure looked human. Black, unkempt hair. Gleaming red eyes. A face too young and too ordinary for the terror he commanded.
With a heavy breath, the knight leapt from the hill, sliding down the slope until he stood face to face with the demon.
"Karlon de Luvelaine. Commander of this army, and the knight who stands in your way."
The demon before him showed no visible reaction.
"...Arkus de Vellum. Ego of Strife, and high commander of the demon legions."
"The Ego of Strife," Karlon muttered. "That would make you the Archdemon."
Arkus gave a faint, humorless chuckle.
"The Archdemon. How quaint. A title your kind insists upon. But if that is the only word in your lexicon for a demon ruler, then so be it."
Karlon met those crimson eyes, unyielding. Even in the face of an army beyond number, his grip tightened around his bloodied sword.
"I stand before you as a knight of my emperor. Until my head is taken, you shall not pass."
"Such loyalty... for a man who sent you here to die. I will never understand the stupidity of mankind."
"Question not the greatness of our master."
"Greatness?" Arkus ran a hand through his hair. "Is that what you call it? I wonder... where is he now, your great emperor? I imagine him reclining on a throne of gold, savoring the finest wine while his subjects bleed and rot on this battlefield. You, House Luvelaine — the empire's greatest sword, abandoned like a stray dog."
For the first time, Karlon felt it.
Doubt.
A flicker of uncertainty gnawed at the edge of his resolve. Doubt in his orders. Doubt in his master. However, he crushed it and cast it aside.
"My house matters not upon the battlefield. Here, I am only a knight, and a knight does not question his sovereign. I stand proud. It is my honor to fall upon this field against the Archdemon himself."
"And then what?"
The question caught Karlon off guard.
"...What do you mean?"
Arkus's gaze flickered to the hilltop behind him, to the two figures standing there. Karlon's daughter and son.
"I'm asking what awaits them after your death. What awaits the families of these men who marched under your banner? Are they to mourn you? To weep over your corpse before being slaughtered themselves? You speak of honor, yet what I see is selfishness. A man so desperate to cling to his ideals, he'd drag the innocent into the grave with him. Your own children, at that..."
The words struck deeper than any blade.
Karlon's defenses faltered. And yet, nothing came. No sword. No spell. No command to strike him down. Arkus had seen his moment of weakness and left him standing.
"Why..." Karlon rasped. "Why do you speak such words to me? Why not end this here and now?"
Arkus sighed.
"Is that what you want?"
"It is what must be done. That is the fate between man and demon. Perhaps... the emperor truly did send me to die here. And if that is my fate, then I shall oblige."
"Fate. How convenient. Your kind clings to it like a crutch, a shield to brandish when faced with the abyss. Tell me, Patriarch… do you truly believe in fate? Or is that the lie you tell yourself to justify your presence here?"
Karlon didn't answer. He couldn't.
Instead, he studied this demon lord, a quiet curiosity stirring in his chest.
Why does this creature speak with such civility? Why spare me? And those eyes... why do they bear the weight of sorrow?
Karlon pushed those nagging questions aside, shaking his head.
"Then… shall I make a pointless attempt to defy fate?" he asked. "We could part ways here. I return to my land, and you to yours. Ah... but I doubt you'd entertain such a foolish notion."
Arkus chuckled, low and dry.
"Perhaps, had you made such an offer five years ago. But alas, human greed knows no bounds. You pillage. You plunder. You force your gods, your laws, and your morality upon others. All because we are different. Demons, you call us. Neither a force belonging to the light nor the darkness. But, if you are so inclined to associate us whatever way you please, then this..."
He spread his arms as if to behold his army.
"This is our reply. Our judgment on what is to be done with the likes of you."
Karlon bit his lips.
"Are you saying if my kind had left yours in peace… if His Majesty hadn't declared war… none of this would have happened? No blood spilled? No lands ravaged? No fathers and sons buried in the dirt?"
"Peace? I would not promise such a thing. Demons are creatures of violence by nature. But..."
His gaze softened, if only slightly.
"I would have assured you that none would act recklessly under my command. That is the answer you seek."
The words stung more than any blade.
Karlon took a step back, exhaling a long, bitter breath. Even if it came from a demon's lips, he could not help but feel the weight of truth behind it.
Had humanity kept to its own lands and ignored the existence of the demon race, perhaps this war could have been avoided. Instead, they struck first. Laying siege, burning villages, and spilling innocent blood beneath the banner of light and the Goddess. By the time they realized what they'd wrought, it was already too late.
"I suppose I have no one to blame but my own kind. Myself included. Is that what you wanted me to realize, Lord Arkus?"
"...I shall speak of it no further," Arkus said quietly. "It would not do for an honorable knight to die with regret."
Honor.
A concept Karlon never imagined a demon would understand, let alone embody. Yet here it stood before him, in the form of his enemy. And in that moment, Karlon understood. He saw not demons, but people.
However, it was too late.
Too much blood spilled. Too many lives claimed. Too many sins committed.
There was no turning back. The only way forward... was war.
Karlon lifted his blade, holding it steady before his face.
"Then please... grant me a death worthy of a knight."
Arkus met his gaze and stepped forward. Shadows coiled at his side, writhing and twisting into a mass of dark energy. The swirl compressed and shattered apart, revealing a curved blade.
"Any last words?" Arkus asked.
"Father!"
Both men turned.
Racing down the hill were the young woman and her little brother, their eyes wide. Frantic words poured from their lips, yet to Karlon's ears, they were lost to the stillness. In those final moments, the world grew impossibly quiet. Only death spoke now.
Karlon gave an exhausted sigh, wearing a soft smile filled with regret.
"...More like a request. If you could... spare my children. They bear no sin. They followed their father here and accepted his foolish decisions. They do not deserve to follow me into the afterlife. So please... allow me to leave this world having done one final good."
Arkus shut his eyes.
"Very well. May you rest with no regrets, Sir Karlon de Luvelaine."
One last time, his children called out to him, but their cries faded into a distant, broken echo. That was the last thing he heard before Arkus's blade swept clean through his neck.
Blood arced through the air. And with it, the battle began.
The demon horde surged forward, clashing with the remnants of House Luvelaine in a final, desperate slaughter. Cries of pain echoed across the battlefield. In the end, not a single human remained.
Save for two.
In the aftermath of the battle, Arkus de Vellum stood before the last surviving members of House Luvelaine.
At the base of a weathered boulder, two children rested side by side, their hands loosely clasped together. They did not tremble. Their breaths were as still as the dead sea. Neither even bothered to look up at the Archdemon who now loomed before them.
The color had long since drained from their eyes. They were not afraid. They were simply... defeated.
Recalling the last, desperate plea in Karlon's eyes, Arkus knelt before them.
At last, they stirred.
The boy, summoning the last of his strength, rose to unsteady feet and stepped between the demon and his sister.
"Don't... come any closer." His voice cracked, but it held.
Arkus regarded him evenly.
"Do you despise me? Your father is dead. The knights you grew up beside lie scattered in the dirt, all because of me. Would it satisfy you to kill me?"
"What would be the point...? Would it bring our father back?"
"…Perhaps not, but it would sate your thirst for revenge."
The boy gave a hollow, broken laugh.
"Yeah? And what then? Would you just let us do it? Even if you did... I'd probably slit my own throat right after. This war... your war... His Majesty's war... why did we have to be dragged into it? Why... did it have to end this way?"
His chin dropped, and with a shuddering breath, convulsive sobs escaped him. Tears gathered at the tip of his chin before falling into the blood-soaked earth.
Arkus observed him, yet he felt... nothing. No pity. No sorrow. Not even disdain.
Only silence.
Above, the clouds that had long smothered the sky began to part. Slivers of light pierced the gloom, streaming down through the gaps like heaven's gaze breaking through the veil of death.
One such beam fell upon Arkus and the two children.
He lifted his hand into the light, studying it with distant indifference.
"The light touches this land," he murmured. "It seems the Goddess has cast her gaze upon this place... though I wonder to whom she looks."
His eyes drifted to the field of corpses. Somewhere amid the rot and ruin, a man lay still in peace.
"Perhaps in another life, we might have been friends, Sir Karlon. But this world..." he sighed, "this world permits no such thing."
Suddenly, a ragged cough cut through the quiet.
The boy's head snapped around. "C-Celine!"
His sister lay there, barely conscious, with blood pooling from the corner of her lips. Her slender frame trembled weakly against the stone.
"Hey! Stay with me!" The boy dropped to her side, his hands frantically brushing hair from her face. "Celine! Please!"
Her lips parted, though no words came. Her eyes remained just slightly open.
Arkus lingered in thought.
If he left these children here, death would claim them soon enough. The girl was already nearing the threshold. She had about another hour or two at best before she slipped beyond reach.
Seeking help wasn't an option either. There were no villages nearby. Arkus had ensured that much himself.
To honor Karlon's final request, he made his decision, but he would allow them a choice.
"If you wish for your sister to live... then take her, and follow me."
The boy's lips parted, disbelief twisting his expression.
"W-What...? What kind of sick game is this?"
"At this rate, she won't see another dawn. You know you don't have the strength to carry her back to civilization. There's nothing out here but death and carrion. But if you prefer, try your luck. Bury her here, or wait until the earth takes you both. The choice is yours."
He made no effort to glance back, not expecting an answer, nor caring if one came.
'I kept my word to Karlon,' he thought coldly. 'I spared them. If he wished for them to live, he should've been more specific. What happens now is no concern of mine.'
Just then came the scraping of rocks.
He turned.
The boy staggered forward, his sister's frail body draped across his back. His face was streaked with dirt, sweat, and blood, but his eyes...
His eyes held unyielding conviction, fierce enough to trust a demon if it meant saving what little he had left.
"If I follow you..." he mumbled, "you'll save her... right?"
Arkus regarded him for a long, silent moment. Despite the broken world around them, he saw the reflection of Karlon's honor within those eyes.
At last, he felt something. A sense of pity. Or perhaps... a subtle curiosity.
"Arkus de Vellum. Ego of Strife, and the high commander of the demon legions."
The boy lifted his chin, defiance flickering in his grief-stricken gaze.
"...Caelus de Luvelaine. Son of Karlon, and the heir to a house now reduced to ashes."