The Hero Quit, So I Became the Demon Lord Instead
Chapter 2: The Throne That Shouldn't Exist
The words I had uttered "If the gods have fallen… then I will rise in their stead" hung in the atmosphere like a solemn vow, intertwining with the gentle murmur of the wind that swept across the expansive valley before me. The horizon shimmered with a soft, otherworldly glow, as the dying embers of Aurelia's once-mighty fires cast a haunting orange hue over the desolate, charred landscape. Behind me lay the crumbling remnants of the kingdom of Light, now irrevocably consumed by the very deceptions it had woven into its existence. Ahead loomed the foreboding realm of demons the Abyss silent and observant, waiting patiently for the arrival of one who dared to challenge the status quo.
With purpose, I took a bold step forward.
The moment I crossed that invisible threshold, a palpable shift occurred in the air surrounding me. It felt as though the world itself had sensed the act, recognizing my audacious transgression the crossing of a boundary that was explicitly forbidden to mere mortals. An icy chill enveloped me, and the ground beneath my feet throbbed as if it were a living entity, responding to my nearness with a faint pulse. The latent energy I had awakened during this moment of radical transformation stirred within me, restless and insatiable yearning for something beyond what I could yet comprehend.
In the midst of this charged atmosphere, the demon woman who had knelt before me slowly rose to her full height. Her expression was a tapestry of emotions reverence intertwined with cautious curiosity. Her eyes, deep pools of ancient wisdom and fear, flickered toward mine for only the briefest moment before darting away, as if she were hesitant to hold my gaze for too long, wary of the power she sensed within me.
"Your aura," she murmured, her voice a tremulous whisper. "It's neither divine nor fully demonic. It feels… ancient, as if it carries the weight of countless epochs."
"I suppose that is true," I replied, my voice barely escaping my lips as I cast a glance at my hand. The faint red glow that had illuminated my palm just moments earlier had faded, leaving behind only a ghostly trace a lingering reminder of a wound that refused to fully heal. "Whatever this presence may be, it remains as a remnant of all that has been lost when both gods and devils are stripped away."
She hesitated for a fraction of a moment before nodding, as if she were affirming a realization that only she could perceive. "Then it is clear that the Abyss has chosen its new champion."
Her words resonated deeply within me, carrying a gravity that I could not yet fully grasp.
Around us, the demons had begun to gather, drawn irresistibly closer by the silent intensity of our exchange. Their forms were a diverse array of grotesque beauty some taking on a humanoid shape, while others resembled monstrous beasts, adorned with twisting horns, tough scales, and intricate markings that shimmered ominously in the dim light that surrounded us. Yet, despite their varied appearances, their eyes shared a communal inquiry the same flicker of trepidation mingled with a desperate glimmer of hope.
"Where is your city located?" I inquired at last, shattering the thick silence that enveloped us like a shroud.
The woman, whose name I would soon come to learn was Lyris, motioned toward the jagged peaks that loomed ahead like blackened teeth piercing the sky. "Beyond the Veiled Pass lies our capital, situated in the Hollow of Echoes," she explained, her voice imbued with a melancholy longing. "However… it has not truly been a city for a considerable time now."
With a shared understanding, we began our journey.
As we traversed the winding path through the Veiled Pass, we moved in a realm steeped in shadow and silence. Here, the world seemed ancient, untouched by the relentless hands of time. Towering stone monoliths flanked our way, each inscribed with runic symbols that pulsed with a faint light as I walked past. Though the meaning of these runes eluded me, I felt their presence whispering at the fringes of my consciousness echoes from a vastness that held memories of ages long forgotten.
"The last Demon Lord was the one who sealed this path," Lyris spoke quietly, breaking the silence as we continued our journey. "But when she fell, the seal shattered. The radiant Light that you revere flooded in… and scorched everything in its path."
Her words resonated deep within me, echoing like a hidden confession that sought to unravel the truth.
"She didn't fall in battle," I stated, though not as a question, but as a conviction forged from the knowledge gathered through my own entwined fate.
Lyris turned to meet my gaze, a hint of surprise flickering across her features before being replaced by an expression softened by understanding. "…No. She was betrayed. Betrayed by one who was once her closest ally a human who offered nothing but false promises of peace."
In that moment, I fell into a heavy silence, the chill in my chest intensifying as the image of the Demon Lord I had vanquished surged forth the blood staining my blade, her last desperate words swallowed by the infernal roar of divine fire haunted me.
At last, we arrived at the end of the pass, where the land opened up into an expansive hollow. There, amid the desolation, stood the remnants of what had once been the capital of the demons, the Obsidian Spire, which had once pulsated with life and vigor, now represented a graveyard of ambition and dreams lost to despair. The skeletal remains of once-grand black towers lay shattered and crumbling, half-buried beneath layers of ash. Rivers of molten stone shimmered faintly beneath the cracked and broken streets, casting an eerie glow that illuminated the devastation surrounding us.
The air hung heavy with the weight of memory and the palpable sorrow that had been interred within these walls. The scent of deep mourning lingered, a testament to the lives once lived here, dreams once nurtured.
"This was their home?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper, laden with disbelief and sympathy.
Lyris nodded solemnly. "Yes, it was. Once, long ago. Before your gods declared it unholy and brought forth ruin."
I knelt down, feeling the coarse texture of the ground beneath my fingers and running my hand lightly across the soil. It was warm to the touch, radiating a certain vibrancy that hinted at life beneath the surface a profound, pulsing energy that thrummed with potential. There was a formidable power here, not entirely dormant but slumbering, waiting for the right moment to be awakened. As I connected with the earth, I felt the rhythm of that energy resonate faintly with the pulse in my veins, creating an almost ethereal connection. It felt strangely familiar, as if this ancient land had been anticipating my return for me specifically.
Without pausing to consider my actions, I pressed my palm flat against the scorched earth, feeling an electric anticipation crackle through the air. The moment my skin made contact, the response was instantaneous and overwhelming. The ground beneath me shuddered violently, and I could sense a ripple of energy spread outward in concentric circles, as if I had cast a stone into a still pond. Cracks in the blackened stone erupted with a fierce, crimson light, connecting the remnants of one tower to another, until the entire ruin seemed to awaken from its long slumber, as if it were taking a deep, shuddering breath.
The presence of the demons around me turned from confidence to fear; they gasped collectively, instinctively retreating from this sudden upheaval of power.
"What… what are you doing?" Lyris exclaimed, her voice laden with a mix of bewilderment and alarm, eyes wide as she struggled to comprehend the unfolding spectacle.
"I don't know," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. "But it feels like it's calling back to me, like it's yearning for connection."
As I stood there, the pulse of energy intensified around us, becoming almost tangible a living force that thrummed in harmony with my heartbeat. Then, in a breathtaking moment reminiscent of a colossal, ancient beast awakening from its slumber, the throne began to reveal itself.
From the heart of that hollow expanse, an awe-inspiring structure emerged a spiraling mass of stone intertwined with molten veins of scalding crimson energy, twisting toward the heavens as though the very fabric of the Abyss had been compelled to reshape itself anew. The air around us roared with raw, untamed power, bending and twisting shadows that flitted toward the throne like moths drawn irresistibly to a blazing flame.
When the tremors finally subsided, the throne stood resplendently before us in its full majesty tall, elegant, and undeniably terrifying. It wasn't something crafted by the hands of mere mortals; it had been born directly from the land itself, reflecting its history and intimacy with the very earth. Every line and contour radiated an unyielding authority, and every flicker of light seemed to bow away from its imposing presence, as if acknowledging its dominion.
Overwhelmed by the spectacle, Lyris dropped to one knee, and one by one, the demons surrounding us followed suit, their heads bowed in a submission that was palpable and deeply reverent.
"The Throne of the Abyss…" she breathed, her voice a hushed whisper filled with reverence. "It answers only to its chosen."
I gazed at the throne, mesmerized, noticing my reflection faintly mirrored in its glossy surface. "I didn't summon it," I replied quietly, my thoughts tangled and swirling.
"You didn't need to," she affirmed, the gravity of her words sinking into me. "It was waiting."
Her statement sent a chill racing down my spine, the realization dawning upon me like the sinking weight of a heavy truth. I had come here to escape the oppressive grasp of false gods not to crown myself as their replacement. Yet, the deeper I ventured into this enveloping darkness, the more it recognized my presence. It accepted me. It needed me.
Compelled by an irresistible force, I took a step closer to the throne. The faint hum of its energy began to reach out toward me, syncing with the rhythm of my own heartbeat. For a fleeting moment, I hesitated, the lingering ghost of my past identity the Hero whispering in the depths of my mind, cautioning me: This isn't who you were meant to be.
But that voice quickly faded into the recesses of my consciousness, overwhelmed by a newer and far more authentic call one that offered not just power, but purpose.
"I didn't come to rule," I murmured once more, more for my sake than anyone else's. "But perhaps ruling is the only way to rebuild what has been broken."
As if in response to those words, the throne pulsed one final time, sending forth a deep, resonant sound that echoed like the heartbeat of the world itself, vibrating through the air around us.
And in that moment, as I stood before the throne, the truth crystallized with painful clarity.
The gods had fallen from their resplendent heights, the demons had shattered within their own chaos, and the world around us lay fractured, its delicate balance irretrievably lost.
It became evident that someone had to rise
not merely as a savior or a tyrant but as something entirely different, something in between the two.
A shadow intricately woven from the threads of light.
To be continued...