Darkness.
Not death.
Not sleep.
Just the endless silence of nothingness.
He had been here for so long… so long… that even time had grown tired of counting.
But now, something has shifted.
The silence trembled.
A whisper of awareness curled through the void like smoke. A breath. A thought. A memory.
Ah… I'm still here.
He hadn't forgotten.
No, his mind was sharp. Perfect. Preserved in stillness.
He remembered the final battle. The clash of steel and magic, the skies torn apart, the ground stained crimson.
Their Hero was righteous, defiant, shining like a fool.
I had cut him down.
Crushed his hope.
Shattered his legend.
I won.
And yet…
Here he was.
Drifting. Detached.
His soul hovered like mist above the world, formless and unanchored. His body laying within the heart of the forest.
Sleeping.
Not dead. Merely… recovering.
Even he had limits.
The spell he cast to survive had been desperate, vast in its reach. A ritual that consumed his remaining strength and carved itself into the very earth. What remained had become this forest wild, dense, and ancient. Its trees were born of his magic. Its beasts shaped by his lingering will.
He felt it all.
The life.
The growth.
The hunger.
This forest. My domain.
And yet… when he reached for it…
Nothing.
His power surged within him, yearning to break free, to command, to destroy. He reached outward, demanding the forest obey him as it once had. The trees. The wind. The soil. All of it should have bent to his will.
He could feel them… every leaf, every root biting into the earth, every beast that prowled in the shadows. The forest pulsed with his essence, born of his mana, an extension of himself. Its growth was his growth. Its breath was his breath. Nothing beyond his reach.
And yet… none of it answered his call.
There was nothing.
His magic hovered just beyond reach, mocking him with its presence.
Why can't I move? Why won't you listen?
He tried again. Again. Each attempt only scraped against emptiness. The silence of the forest no longer felt like a comfort, but an accusation.
No. I am not weak. I am the Demon Lord. I… I can't move!
His fury burned white-hot, but with every effort, the stillness pressed harder. He wasn't bound by an enemy. Not by fate.
He was bound by himself.
He could see it now… the barrier. Threads of his own magic wrapped around him, tighter than chains. The forest was not merely his creation. It was his prison.
His greatest spell had not saved him. It had caged him.
For one brief moment, his rage thinned into stillness. His thoughts pierced through the fog, and he saw everything laid bare: his still body deep beneath the earth, the boundless forest sprawling outward, and the magic that had once obeyed him now holding him captive.
This is the price of my power… my own arrogance.
But clarity never lasted.
A storm surged inside him again, sharp and wild. I will not be caged by my own creation! His power thrashed within him, vast and terrible… yet distant. He could feel it, thundering like a storm he could not touch.
His thoughts frayed. He clawed at the chains, at the silence… at anything. Why can't I move? I should be able to move!
Madness licked at the edges of his mind. The urge to destroy consumed him, but the stillness only deepened.
Focus… Focus… I can still break free. I will…
No.
The truth was simple. Inevitable.
The forest was his prison.
And the longer he denied it, the stronger the chains became.
…
And then…
A flicker.
Faint at first. Then sharper.
A ripple of energy brushed against his senses, cutting through the storm of his thoughts.
He stilled.
That energy…
He knew it.
Familiar.
Old.
Hated.
No… that can't be.
He had killed him. Cut him down. Watched the light vanish from his eyes.
There was no mistake.
And yet, the energy he felt now was almost identical. Echoes of the Hero's soul, vibrating in the air like a forgotten song.
Impossible.
But real.
And close.
Something was coming.
Someone.
And with them… a taste he had not forgotten.
His eyes snapped open, and the stillness around him shattered.