The black citadel of Nareth loomed beneath a blood-red sky, its jagged towers piercing the clouds like the spines of a slumbering beast. Rivers of molten fire carved glowing veins through the obsidian landscape, and the scent of ash hung heavy in the air. Deep within the citadel's throne hall, the Demon King sat upon his seat of bone and iron, his crimson eyes half-closed in thought.
For a century, silence had ruled his world. The wars of the past had faded into memory, and for a brief time, even the demons had known something resembling peace. But peace was never meant to last.
The heavy doors of the throne hall creaked open, and a lesser demon rushed in, his claws scraping against the stone. He knelt low before the towering figure on the throne.
"My lord," the demon rasped, bowing his head. "The Priestess… she has begun the summoning. A new hero has been called from the mortal realm."
The Demon King's eyes opened slowly, glowing like twin embers in the dark. For a moment, the hall was utterly still—only the soft crackle of fire echoed through the vast chamber.
"So," he said at last, his voice deep and calm, carrying the weight of millennia. "The Eternal Queen has awakened her ritual once more."
He rose from his throne, each step echoing like thunder. His form was cloaked in black armor veined with molten gold, and the faint pulse of magic rippled through the air as he moved. Behind him, the massive banners of his reign swayed, depicting an endless war between shadow and light.
"How many times," he murmured, more to himself than to his servant, "must she repeat this farce?"
The demon dared to lift his gaze. "What are your orders, my lord?"
The Demon King turned toward the great window overlooking his domain. The horizon burned with the orange glow of volcanoes and the flicker of training fires scattered across the land. He clenched his clawed hand, and power surged around him, shaking the hall itself.
"Prepare the legions," he commanded. "Every soldier, every mage, every beast of war. The training begins at once."
The demon hesitated. "At once, my lord? The armies have not yet fully recovered from the last campaign—"
"Then they will recover through battle," the King interrupted, his voice sharp but controlled. "The Eternal Queen moves faster this time. That means her hero is not ordinary."
He descended the steps of the throne, the shadows bending toward him like loyal servants. "We have one month," he continued, "to prepare for war. When the moon of blood rises again, we march."
The demon bowed his head deeply, trembling under the weight of his King's aura. "As you command, my lord."
When the messenger was gone, silence fell once more. The Demon King stood alone, gazing out at his burning world. The faint glimmer of memory flickered behind his eyes—faces, voices, battles long past. Heroes who came and died, one after another, as if drawn to him by fate itself.
He whispered, almost mournfully, "Another hero… another cycle."
Turning away from the window, he raised his arm. A black sigil formed in the air, pulsing with life as it spread across the castle grounds. Far below, the warriors of the demon race felt the call of their sovereign. Trumpets of bone echoed through the wastelands as soldiers emerged from their barracks, swords clashing and wings unfolding.
The great drums of Nareth began to thunder.
In the arenas of flame, young demons took up arms under the eyes of their masters. In the caverns of shadow, warlocks and witches recited ancient incantations that made the air tremble. Even the beasts of the abyss stirred, howling into the crimson sky.
From the highest tower, the Demon King looked upon his armies with a cold, unwavering gaze.
"Train harder than ever before," he murmured, though his voice carried to every corner of the citadel through the power of his will. "This time, we fight not only to win—but to end this curse of cycles."
For a moment, the flames reflected in his eyes flickered with something that looked almost human—regret, perhaps, or understanding.
Then it was gone.
The Demon King turned, his cloak of shadows sweeping behind him as he walked back toward his throne. The age of waiting was over. The world of men and demons would soon tremble once more beneath the clash of destiny.
And high above the burning sky, somewhere beyond his reach, the Eternal Queen's summoning circle glowed—signaling the dawn of another war that neither side could ever escape.