In the desolate mountains where he had been reborn, Robin the dark soldier was no more. The man who had been a benevolent emperor, a unite of mortals and demons, had vanished with the destruction of his kingdom. In his place stood a new being, forged from the crucible of defeat and the ancient power of the old demon queen. For six months, he had been nursed back to health by the simple villagers who found him, his broken body mended, but his spirit still shattered. For five years after that, he traveled the world, training, gathering strength, and seeking allies. He found friends and soldiers among the forgotten and the outcast, those who also saw the divine order of the Bishops not as a blessing, but a tyrannical rule. His journey led him to a mountain shrouded in eternal darkness, guided by a nightmare of a fire he couldn't explain. There, in a black cave, he faced a new truth. The Fire Demon King he had defeated was not the true power of the demon realm. It was his Queen, a being of ancient, raw power who had foreseen his coming. She saw in Robin the vessel to restore the demon's might. She didn't fight him, but instead bestowed upon him her full power, along with the collective energy of a hundred thousand lesser demons. Robin's old self was completely consumed by this new energy. The fusion of mortal, demon, and divine magic was gone, replaced by a pure, unadulterated demonic might. His body transformed, encased in a massive suit of armor that pulsed with a dark, ethereal light. His mind, once a blend of light and dark, was now a singular, focused weapon of vengeance. He was no longer a ruler, a soldier, or a savior. He was a king. A Demon King.
Returning to his allies, the new Demon King found his army waiting. They were not fighting for a man, but for a symbol of defiance against the Bishops. They marched back to the ruins of his former capital, where the Bishops had established their divine rule. The celestial city was a stark contrast to the dark, chaotic beauty of his old palace. It was a place of blinding light and sterile purity, a testament to the Bishop's absolute power.
The battle was a clash of cosmic proportions. The bishops , confident in their divine might, met him at the city gates. But the man they had defeated was gone. In his place was a force of nature, a hurricane of demonic energy. The fight was not a battle of tactics, but a five-day war of attrition. Robin, now the Demon King, was not just fighting; he was consuming. He absorbed their holy light, twisting it, and turning it back upon them. He used his new power to summon armies of demons that swallowed the Bishop's celestial legions whole.
One by one, the bishops fell. Their divine bodies were not just defeated, but utterly annihilated, their very essence erased from existence. Their god-level power, which had once felt so absolute, was no match for the raw, chaotic force of the Demon King. On the fifth day, with the last Bishop vanquished, the celestial city crumbled, and the light that had bathed the land for five years was extinguished.
The world was once again divided. The Bishops were gone, their divine order a footnote in history. Robin, the benevolent ruler, was a forgotten memory. The new Demon King now ruled over his lands, not with peace, but with an iron fist. He was the sole sovereign of the demonic realm, a power so absolute that even mortals feared to whisper his name. the world was no longer fractured; it was two halves of a single coin: the world of mortals, and the world of the Demon King. His reign had just begun, and the world was left to wonder that kind peace this new ruler would bring.