The night wind carried the scent of burning wood and scorched flesh across the ruined village. Embers drifted through the air like dying stars, settling on collapsed rooftops and shattered fences. The screams had long since faded, leaving only silence—and the faint rasping breaths of the demons still kneeling in the dirt.
Azeron stood in the center of it all, trembling.
Not from fear.
Not from exhaustion.
"But from the weight of everything that had been taken."
His mother.
His home.
His ordinary life.
All gone in the space of minutes.
He closed his eyes tightly, trying to summon tears, anything—but the system's cold suppression held his emotions behind an impenetrable veil.
His grief was locked away.
A prison inside a prison.
Azeron's voice came out hollow. "Why would you stop me from feeling?"
The system responded instantly.
[Emotional instability threatens Host survival.]
[Suppression ensures optimal decision-making.]
[Focus: Ascension.]
Azeron clenched his fists. "I don't care about ascension."
[Ascension is not optional.]
The words were final—icy, absolute.
Azeron's jaw tightened. He wanted to scream at the sky, to break something, to fall apart. But the system smothered every impulse with mechanical precision.
He took a step back from the kneeling demons.
They didn't move.
None dared to.
Even the air around him felt different—denser, sharper. His presence alone dominated the clearing like an invisible set of claws pressing into everything within reach.
Azeron swallowed hard. "Go."
The demons trembled, but none rose.
"Leave," he commanded louder, voice cracking.
Still nothing.
Then the system chimed:
[Authority Too High for Disobedience]
[Subjugated entities cannot depart without Host permission.]
[They await orders.]
Orders.
Azeron almost laughed—almost. The idea was absurd. He wasn't a leader. He wasn't a king. He was a terrified boy who had lost everything.
But the demons saw something else.
A Monarch.
Azeron backed away, holding his breath, until his heels pressed against something soft. He turned—and froze.
His mother's body lay in the dirt, half-covered in ash.
Her eyes stared blankly at the sky.
Azeron dropped to his knees beside her, hands shaking uncontrollably.
"Mom…" His voice was barely a whisper.
The suppression cracked—just a hairline fracture—but enough that a single tear slipped down his cheek.
The system reacted immediately.
[Warning: Emotional Flood Detected]
[Reinforcing Suppression Layer…]
Azeron gritted his teeth. "Stop."
[Suppression is essential.]
"I said STOP!"
For the first time, the system hesitated.
[Override accepted—temporarily.]
[Emotional release window: 10 seconds.]
Azeron didn't waste them.
He leaned forward, forehead touching his mother's cold shoulder, and let the grief rush through him like a broken dam. His breaths came in sharp, painful bursts as the truth slammed into him.
She was gone.
She wasn't coming back.
And nothing he did tonight could ever fix that.
Ten seconds.
Ten heartbeats.
Then the system's icy grip closed around his mind again, sealing the grief away as if someone had shut a door on his soul.
The tears stopped instantly.
His face smoothed.
His breathing steadied.
Emotion off.
Logic on.
Azeron recoiled at the feeling. It was like being forced into the body of someone else—someone colder, hollower, sharper.
He whispered, "What are you turning me into?"
The system answered without warmth.
[Into what you were born to become.]
[Into a Monarch.]
Azeron stared at his mother's still form for a long moment before he forced himself to stand. Every part of him screamed to stay by her side, but the system pulsed with a warning.
[Danger Approaching.]
[Multiple life signatures inbound.]
[Humans.]
Azeron stiffened.
Humans.
Soldiers.
Inquisitors.
Scouts.
Whoever they were, they wouldn't understand what happened here. They wouldn't listen. They wouldn't see a scared boy who had lost his home.
They would see—
A demon.
A monster.
A threat.
Azeron turned toward the kneeling demons, voice barely steady. "Stand."
They rose instantly.
Even standing, they kept their eyes down, unwilling to meet his gaze.
Azeron swallowed. "If humans see you, they'll kill you. And me."
The demons stayed silent.
Azeron forced out the words he never thought he would say.
"Follow me."
The demons obeyed as one.
A chilling realization crept through him.
He hadn't told them where they were going.
He didn't even know.
Yet they followed without question.
He wasn't their prisoner.
He wasn't their target.
He was their ruler.
He turned away from the smoking ruins of Rivenwood, each step heavier than the last.
Azeron didn't look back.
He couldn't.
If he did, he wasn't sure he'd be able to force himself forward again.
The world was waking up to the return of a Monarch.
He just wanted to survive the night.
But fate had already marked him.
And somewhere in the silent, burning trees around him, shadows shifted—watching, waiting, recognizing what now walked among them.
The Uncrowned Monarch had taken his first step into the world.
And the world trembled.