The first scream cut the night in half.
Then came the howls. One after another.
Low at first.
Then loud.
Close.
I stopped in the middle of the dirt road. The light from the lanterns shook in the wind. Shadows ran across the street — too big to be dogs, too fast to be men.
A shape leapt over a cart. Another crashed through a fence.
Wolf demons.
Some had one head with sharp fangs dripping black saliva.
Some had two, snapping in different directions, claws digging into the ground.
The smell of smoke reached me before I saw the flames. Fire was spreading from the west side of the village. The crack of breaking wood filled the air. Shouts, metal clashing, glass shattering.
"Wolf demons! Inside! Now!" a man yelled as he ran past me.
The street turned to chaos. People grabbed their children and ran. Doors slammed. Windows shut. Boots pounded against the stones as knights rushed toward the fire.
I didn't run toward the fight.
I wasn't a knight.
I wasn't a mage.
I was just a boy who had failed to bond with a spirit. Twice.
So I ran.
I pushed through the narrow alleys, following other villagers. Somewhere behind me, I heard claws scraping the stone. A low growl chased my steps.
A sudden rush of wind cut through the air. I looked up.
Reko.
My twin brother stood on top of the inn roof. His white hair blew around him, and the air shimmered with sharp blades of wind. Each swing of his arm sent slicing currents through the street. A two-headed wolf demon leapt toward him — and was thrown back by a gust strong enough to shatter stone.
"Keep them away from the villagers!" he shouted to the knights. They obeyed without question.
He looked like a hero. The kind children dream about.
He was the youngest S-rank wind mage in the kingdom.
I was… nothing.
I kept running.
A storage shed stood ahead, the door half open. I ducked inside. The air was thick with dust. A few villagers were already there — two old men, a young woman, and a girl so small she could barely hold the stick she clutched.
"Close it!" one man hissed.
I pushed the door shut. My hands were shaking. The sound of battle outside was still loud — growls, screams, the crash of magic tearing through walls.
Then the wall beside me exploded.
Wood splinters filled the air. A wolf demon burst through, landing in the middle of the room. One head. Eyes burning red. Saliva hissed when it hit the floor.
The villagers screamed.
Its gaze locked on the little girl.
She didn't move.
Couldn't.
Before I could think, I grabbed the nearest thing — a broken stick from the firewood pile — and charged.
"Get away from her!" I shouted, swinging with all my strength.
The stick hit its face with a sharp crack. The wood snapped in half.
The demon didn't even blink.
Its head turned toward me.
I froze.
Then it leapt.
Its claws hit me in the chest and shoulder. Pain exploded through me. Something tore inside — hot blood poured down my side. My knees buckled, and I fell backward.
The demon stood over me, growling low. It raised its paw to strike again.
And then—
Everything stopped.
The wolf demon froze, claws hanging in the air. The villagers were still, mouths open in silent screams. Even the fire outside was frozen in place. No sound. No movement.
The air turned cold.
A wind swirled through the shed, carrying black smoke with it. The smoke moved like it had a mind of its own, curling around the walls, sliding over the floor.
A shape formed in the center.
A man stepped out.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Armor black as night, cracked in places like it had been shattered and put back together a hundred times. Two horns curved from his head, both broken near the tips. His eyes glowed gold, bright enough to light the dust in the air.
When he spoke, his voice seemed to shake the ground.
"I am the last King of Demons," he said. "Betrayed by my own generals. Cut down by the heroes of your kind. My body destroyed. My soul cursed to wander."
The black smoke around him thickened, and the air grew heavier.
"For centuries I have searched," he said. "For a body strong enough to carry my power… and my wrath."
He stopped in front of me. The gold in his eyes burned hotter.
"You are weak," he said plainly. "But you are not afraid."
I wanted to laugh. I was shaking so hard I thought my bones would break.
"I can give you strength," he said. "Enough to crush the heroes who call themselves gods. Enough to take back what was stolen."
I glanced at the wolf demon above me. Its claws were still pressed against my chest, frozen. My blood dripped in midair, unmoving.
The Demon King tilted his head.
"Accept me," he said slowly, his voice echoing in my skull, "and survive."
The gold in his eyes flared brighter. The black smoke coiled closer around me, cold as ice.
"Reject me," he finished, "and die."
The world seemed to grow darker. My chest burned. My heartbeat slowed. My vision blurred to the edge of black.
No one was coming.