The throne hall of Zerathos shimmered under the twilight glow of red mana flames.
The air was still — too still — thick with quiet authority. Shadows stretched long across the marble floor, where a lone figure knelt before the throne.
Azrael, Commander of the Demon King's Legion, knelt with one hand on his knee and the other resting over the hilt of his sword. His long black hair was tied in twin braids that hung over his chest, framing sharp features and piercing crimson eyes that gleamed like molten glass beneath the dim light. The twisted, dark violet horns curling from his head carried a faint mana pulse — proof of his high demonic lineage. A golden cross hung loosely around his neck, gleaming like an ironic symbol of loyalty.
His voice was steady but edged with restrained disbelief.
"My Lord, forgive my impertinence… but I still do not understand. Why did you let Erevos and those humans leave alive after the battle? You could have destroyed them — all of them."
The Demon King leaned forward on his throne, resting his chin on one hand, a faint smirk ghosting his lips. His voice rolled like thunder across the obsidian hall.
"Erevos…" he murmured, as though tasting the name. "You do know how strong he is, right?"
Azrael frowned. "Of course I do. He was strong even before—"
"Before he stopped being human?" The Demon King's voice sharpened. "Don't finish that sentence, Azrael. You and I both know the kind of power that man now wields. He was King of Valoria — the second most powerful kingdom in the Human Realm — and now, he's something worse. Something that should've never existed."
Azrael's brows furrowed. "But wasn't the story spread through the human realm that he died fighting you? That Valoria's king fell heroically against the Demon Lord?"
The Demon King chuckled, low and bitter. "Ah yes… the grand lie. The Holy Kingdom's little bedtime story."
He rose from the throne, his heavy cape of mana-forged silk sweeping behind him like liquid fire. His golden eyes burned brighter than the torches.
"They claim Erevos fell in battle against me to protect the human realm," he said, pacing slowly, "but the truth is uglier. He vanished — neither dead nor alive — after making a pact behind his people's backs. Fused himself with a fragment of the Abyssal Vein."
Azrael's eyes widened slightly. "The Vein? That's impossible—"
The Demon King cut him off. "—and yet he did it. When he returned to the human realm, the fools didn't even question how he survived. They just handed him back the throne."
He let out a dry laugh. "The Holy Kingdom didn't lift a finger. The High Pontifex Emperor — the man at the top of their world, the so-called bridge between mortals and gods — didn't even ask how their 'hero' came back."
Azrael's tone grew dark. "Because to the humans, appearances matter more than truth."
"Exactly," the Demon King said, stopping before the great map of the realms carved into the floor. "The Holy Kingdom holds absolute authority over all eight kingdoms of the Human Realm. And the High Pontifex Emperor would rather preserve his puppet image of unity than admit his second-strongest king has sold his soul to the Abyss."
He turned slightly, the red glow catching the edge of his sharp grin. "That's why I didn't kill Erevos, Azrael. Because watching them kneel to a corrupted king is far more satisfying than ending him outright."
Azrael's lips twitched in reluctant amusement. "You're cruel when you're patient."
"I prefer to call it strategic," the Demon King replied dryly.
The air grew quiet again, the heavy silence filled only by the low hum of the throne's mana core.
Then Azrael straightened. "If the humans have the Holy Seven, their relic-wielding saints, then what about us? If war ever returns—"
The Demon King waved a hand lazily. "You? You'd handle one of them."
Azrael blinked. "One? My Lord—"
"Maybe two if they underestimate you," the Demon King added with a faint smirk. "As for me, I could fight two comfortably… maybe three if I skipped breakfast. But all seven?"
He let out a low whistle. "Even I know my limits."
Azrael crossed his arms. "Then perhaps we should call back our strongest general."
The Demon King paused. "Who— Keith?"
Azrael nodded. "Of course. His flames could burn through dragonbone. His swordsmanship rivals even mine. You may have your reasons, but dismissing the most powerful general in all eight kingdoms of the Demon Realm still feels… reckless."
The Demon King blinked, pretending to think. "Oh right. Keith."
"Yes, my Lord," Azrael said patiently.
"Oh right, yes," the Demon King said again, then nodded to himself. "I fired him."
"…You what?"
The Demon King sighed dramatically. "He fell asleep."
Azrael frowned. "During patrol?"
"No," the Demon King said flatly. "While watching Asura."
Azrael froze. "…Pardon?"
The Demon King's tone stayed perfectly even. "Asura was four. Keith was supposed to be watching him. He fell asleep standing guard. By the time he woke up, Asura had already snuck into the lower forest and picked a fight with a wyvern nest. Nearly set half the valley on fire."
Azrael's crimson eyes widened — even glowing faintly from shock. "…And you fired him for that?"
"Of course," the Demon King said firmly. "The number one rule of the royal guard is don't fall asleep while babysitting a walking apocalypse."
Azrael sighed deeply, his expression unreadable. "He's the most powerful general alive, my Lord."
"Yes," the Demon King said lightly, "and apparently the most powerful napper too."
Silence. Then, Azrael's tail flicked once. "You know what?"
He lifted his hand, opening a glowing crimson portal beside the throne. "Come on."
The Demon King raised an eyebrow. "Where are we going?"
Azrael gestured toward the swirling light. "To hire him back. Before Keith joins another kingdom."
The Demon King chuckled under his breath. "You're serious?"
"As a soul oath," Azrael said grimly. "If Keith can't protect the boy, at least he can help if a battle is to come."
The Demon King's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Fine. Let's go wake the sleeping legend."
As they stepped through the portal, the hall lights dimmed — the flames bowing low as if in respect to the two ancient powers departing.
Far away, in some quiet corner of the Demon Realm, Keith Von Talon snored loudly under a tree, a faint spark of flame flickering every time he exhaled.
He had no idea destiny was about to ruin his nap again.
✦ The Sleeping Legend
The crimson portal cracked open like a wound in space, spilling light across a quiet stretch of wilderness.
The Demon King stepped out first, his royal aura dimmed so the trees wouldn't immediately combust this time. Azrael followed close behind, adjusting his coat and glancing around the valley before them.
The air here was calm — birds sang, a stream whispered through glowing roots, and the scent of faint ash drifted on the breeze.
"…You're sure this is the right place?" the Demon King asked, scanning the clearing.
Azrael crouched, brushing his fingers across a patch of scorched grass. "Positive. His mana residue ends here. Though…" He wrinkled his nose. "…there's also the smell of smoke and grilled meat."
They followed the scent through the trees until they reached a small stone outpost, half-ruined and half-buried in vines.
And there, leaning against the archway, Keith Von Talon slept.
His body was encased in layered black armor shaped like living flame — plates etched with molten seams that pulsed faintly with orange light. Wisps of ember flickered from the gaps, especially around his chest, where a slow, steady glow burned beneath the armor like a heartbeat of fire.
His horns curved back through a mess of dark, tousled hair, and his face — young, calm, and completely unbothered — looked like a warrior who'd fallen asleep between battles rather than after them.
His sword rested point-down beside him, the hilt balanced perfectly against his arm, as though it had grown used to waiting for him to wake up.
Azrael stared for a long moment. "…He's sleeping standing up."
The Demon King exhaled. "He calls it 'guarding in a state of inner peace.'"
Keith shifted slightly, arms still crossed, letting out a faint snore that made a few embers float from his armor.
"...Five more minutes... dragons... later…"
Azrael's jaw twitched. "He's dreaming about dragons."
"Better than the last time," the Demon King murmured. "That dream ended with three burnt wyverns and my garden in ashes."
Azrael sighed, picked up a small rock, and tossed it at Keith's head.
Clink.
The rock bounced off harmlessly — leaving a dent in the rock, not the general.
The Demon King smirked. "You forgot his passive defense. His armor reacts even when he's unconscious."
Azrael pinched the bridge of his nose. "So he's immune to stupidity and assassination. Perfect."
A faint hum of energy rolled through the clearing as the Demon King snapped his fingers. The surge of royal mana rippled like thunder.
Keith's eyes snapped open, glowing gold-orange beneath his messy bangs.
In one smooth motion, he drew his sword, the metal ringing like a heartbeat as it stopped a hair's breadth from the Demon King's throat.
The world held its breath.
Then Keith blinked blearily. "…Oh. Morning, my Lord."
The Demon King raised an eyebrow. "Afternoon, actually."
Keith yawned, sheathing his sword. "You should warn a guy before you nearly get decapitated."
Azrael folded his arms. "You should wake up before you nearly decapitate your king."
Keith shrugged. "Details."
The Demon King sighed. "Still dramatic as ever."
Keith stretched, his armor cracking faintly as embers escaped the joints. "So, either the realm's on fire again, or you missed me."
Azrael muttered, "We'd rather be fighting the realm on fire."
The Demon King smirked. "You're being reinstated."
Keith blinked. "…You fired me."
"And now I'm unfiring you."
"Why?"
The Demon King's expression didn't change. "Because my grandson exists."
Keith tilted his head. "...And?"
Azrael cut in flatly. "He's eight, does things that shouldn't be possible, and nearly erased a mountain range when emotionally stressed."
Keith rubbed his eyes, processing that. "Huh. So… you want me to train him?"
"Guard him. Guide him. Keep him from accidentally deleting civilization," the Demon King said simply.
Keith leaned back against the wall, arms crossing again. "So basically babysitting."
Azrael's tail flicked. "Think of it as supervised survival duty."
Keith chuckled lowly. "Fine. But if the kid's anything like you, I'm bringing coffee."
The Demon King smirked. "You'll need more than that."
Keith's eyes glowed faintly as he adjusted his gauntlet. "Don't worry, my Lord. I'll stay awake this time."
Azrael raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that?"
Keith's grin widened. "Nope."
The Demon King's sigh echoed through the forest. "Hopeless."
As the two stepped back toward the portal, Keith followed lazily, his ember-lit armor leaving faint trails of heat in the air.
Azrael muttered under his breath, "He's going to nap during training, I can feel it."
Keith smirked. "Only if it gets boring."
The Demon King chuckled, stepping through the portal. "Then this should be the most exciting nap of your life."
The portal sealed behind them, leaving behind a faint glow and a single ember drifting through the air — the mark of the sleeping legend's return.
✦ A King's Vengeance
The crimson light of the portal shimmered against the treeline as the three demons stepped through — the Demon King in front, Azrael close behind, and Keith trailing lazily with his sword slung across his shoulder.
For a moment, it seemed they were heading straight back to the castle.
But then, the Demon King stopped.
His gaze turned east — toward the faint glimmer of a faraway horizon. The mana around him darkened, pulsing like a restrained storm.
Azrael noticed the shift immediately. "…My lord?"
The Demon King said nothing at first. His expression was calm, but his eyes burned — molten gold behind the calm facade. The kind of anger that didn't shout… it promised.
He finally spoke, his voice low and deliberate.
"Before we return to Zerathos… let's make a quick stop."
Azrael's brow furrowed slightly. "A stop?"
The King's faint smile didn't reach his eyes. "Valoria."
Azrael froze. "…Valoria?"
Keith blinked, lowering his sword lazily. "Wait — human Valoria?"
The Demon King's voice grew quieter — dangerous.
"Yes. That one."
He turned fully now, his cape rippling with waves of infernal energy.
"That arrogant insect, Erevos, sent his people into my realm — to spy, to hunt, and to kill my grandson."
His voice deepened with every word, the air trembling faintly.
"Then he had the audacity to enter my domain himself… and nearly took the boy's life."
The ground beneath them cracked as mana leaked from his presence.
"I should have ended him centuries ago."
Azrael frowned, his tone cautious but steady. "You mean to invade Valoria?"
The Demon King's lips curved in a slow, cold smile.
"No. Invade would imply I intend to stay."
He raised his hand, dark flames coiling around his wrist.
"I'm just paying a visit."
Keith shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Azrael. "…Define 'visit.'"
Azrael sighed. "Collateral damage, probably."
The Demon King chuckled softly. "Nothing too catastrophic. Just… a reminder."
Azrael straightened slightly, his voice quieter now. "You're sure about this? Entering the Human Realm so soon after Asura's awakening could cause more than just panic. The Holy Kingdom might see it as provocation."
The Demon King's gaze flicked to him — not angry, just unshakably certain.
"Let them."
Azrael's tail flicked once. "…And the humans?"
"They should thank me," the King said dryly. "I'll be giving them something new to pray about."
Keith scratched his head. "You realize you're about to walk into the second most fortified kingdom in the Human Realm, right?"
The Demon King smirked faintly. "Keith."
"Yeah?"
"Do I look worried?"
Keith grinned, his ember eyes glinting. "Not even slightly."
Azrael exhaled through his nose, resigned. "Very well. I'll prepare the veil spells to hide our entry. If you intend to 'visit,' I'd rather it not end in a war."
The Demon King waved a hand lazily. "Good. Make it subtle — for now."
Keith glanced at the dark horizon, then muttered, "Subtle and the Demon King shouldn't be in the same sentence."
Azrael gave a small, humorless smile. "You'll get used to it."
The Demon King turned back to the rift, his expression calm but his voice dropping to something that made the forest go silent.
"When I'm finished, Erevos will remember why the Demon Realm is feared… not envied."
He stepped toward the glowing portal Azrael conjured — its edges shimmering faintly with folded space, blending the scent of ash and roses from the Human Realm beyond.
Azrael's gaze flicked toward him one last time. "If this causes an uproar, the Holy Kingdom will respond."
The King's reply was almost amused. "Then the Holy Emperor can add his name to the list."
He smiled — sharp, regal, and merciless.
"Come, Azrael. Let's give Valoria a new dawn to fear."
Keith blinked, still half-grinning. "…You two really don't do anything halfway, huh?"
The Demon King looked back at him briefly, eyes glowing through the rift's crimson haze.
"Keith."
"Yeah?"
"Stay awake this time."
Keith's smirk widened. "No promises."
The portal flared, swallowing them in red light.
And for the first time in centuries, the Human Realm would feel the pulse of the Demon King's wrath once more — a calm, inevitable storm stepping quietly toward its target.
✦ The Kingdom Of Valoria
Human Realm — Valoria, Kingdom of Radiant Steel
The sun over Valoria was gentle — softer than the Demon Realm's crimson moon.
Warm gold spilled across rolling plains of wheat and lavender, swaying under a spring breeze. The air carried the scent of baked bread, sweet fruit preserves, and the faint metallic tang of worked steel.
Valoria was beautiful.
A kingdom crafted to appear blessed.
Cobblestone streets wove between towering white buildings, their roofs tiled in royal sapphire-blue. Flower boxes spilled bright red and violet petals from balcony railings. Water channels ran along the main road, fed by a hidden aqueduct system — crystal clear and lined with smooth carved marble.
Merchants called out cheerfully from their stalls:
"Fresh pastries! Still warm!"
"Finest woven cloaks, imported from the northern trade route!"
Children played tag between crowded market stands, giggling as they darted under tables.
Blacksmith hammers rang like rhythmic music from the open workshop doors. Sparks danced as blades and horseshoes cooled in quenching barrels. Farmers arriving from the outskirts hauled wagons full of harvested crops — bright oranges, corn, onions, and the region's specialty: moon rice, said to shimmer under moonlight.
Nobles passed in lacquered, glass-paneled carriages — pulled by immaculate white horses adorned in silver-studded tack. Their banners fluttered with Valoria's sigil:
A sword piercing a crown.
Adventurers lounged near the guild hall — a massive timber building marked with the crest of the Adventurer's Guild. Their armor clinked as they shared rumors over tankards.
"C-rank dungeon opened again in the northeast."
"Another monster surge near the border — what's happening lately?"
Their voices overlapped with clinking mugs and laughter.
Everything… looked peaceful.
But not pure.
On the far side of the market, where the sun cast longer shadows, a different scene unfolded — hidden behind canvas tarps and guarded wagons.
Slave trading.
Cages lined the alley, stacked two-high. Men, women, children — captured beastkin or criminals sold into servitude — sat silently with chains on wrists and ankles.
A merchant barked prices:
"Strong backs! Good labor! Half price!"
Nobles walked by without a glance.
Valoria was beautiful.
Valoria was prosperous.
Valoria was cruel.
The city was a masterpiece of order — polished stone, immaculate streets, perfect presentation.
All under the watch of the man sitting on Valoria's throne.
✦ Castle of the Golden Rift
The castle was a fortress of white stone and gold-veined marble, built atop a cliff overlooking the entire kingdom.
Sunlight streamed through towering stained-glass windows, casting holy colors across the floor — blue, red, white, and gold. Tall banners of Valoria's crest draped from the vaulted ceiling. Guards lined the walls in ceremonial armor, motionless and disciplined.
At the far end of the grand hall sat King Erevos.
Calm.
Composed.
Untouchable.
Silver hair framed his face, and a faint smirk curved his lips as he raised a porcelain teacup.
Steam curled into the air like a dancing spirit.
He didn't slouch. His posture was effortless — relaxed, but commanding. Like a man who feared nothing.
"Mn. Jasmine and emberleaf," he murmured, appreciating the taste. "The blend is improving."
A trembling servant knelt beside him, head lowered. "Y-yes, Your Majesty…"
Erevos ignored the fear.
He gazed out toward the massive stained-glass window behind him — depicting an angel striking down a demon.
His eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly.
"…He's moving, isn't he?"
The teacup clinked softly as he set it down.
A ripple of mana pulsed from the throne — so faint no normal person would notice.
But Erevos felt it.
A disturbance.
A presence he once crossed blades with.
The Demon King.
Erevos leaned back, crossing one leg over the other, voice smooth and unbothered.
"So… the old demon finally took the bait."
He lifted his cup again, unfazed.
"Let him come."
He smiled — the kind of smile that never reaches the eyes.
"I've been waiting."
✦ The Demon King Arrives in Valoria
Human Realm — Valoria, Territory Under the Holy Empire
The sky did not thunder.
There was no quake, no screaming wind, no divine omen.
Reality simply split.
A razor-thin tear carved across the air, clean and soundless — like fabric being sliced by an invisible scalpel. Black mist leaked from the cut, curling and whispering as though the darkness itself were alive.
A boot stepped through.
Obsidian plate. Gold trims. Burning heat radiating from the sole.
Then he appeared.
✦ The Demon King of Zerathos
He stepped into Valoria like a nightmare forced into noble attire.
His horns were thick and jagged, glowing with molten crimson cracks embedded in obsidian bone — as if magma pulsed beneath the surface. Wild black hair fell around a sharp jaw and trimmed beard. His eyes burned brilliant red, a king's authority wrapped in ancient, quiet violence.
Heavy black armor with gold veins clung to his massive frame. A crimson royal cloak flared with every step. He rested a flaming greatsword casually over one shoulder — fire trapped within the blade like a caged sun.
He didn't need to announce who he was.
The world reacted for him.
A second figure slipped through the tear — silent as a shadow.
✦ Azrael Nightweaver
Right Hand of the Demon King
His horns swept backward, twisted like dark crescent blades, glowing faintly with violet cracks. A black blindfold covered his eyes, yet a fiery red glow burned beneath the fabric. His hair fell in two combat-tight braids; every strand precise and calculated.
Long black shirt. Military belt. Gold cross resting against his chest.
He stood relaxed — one hand behind his head — but the sword in his other hand made every guard instinctively step back.
Azrael radiated violence.
Not loud.
Not threatening.
I will kill you before you finish blinking violence.
"So," Azrael muttered flatly, "remind me why we didn't just vaporize the whole kingdom from the sky?"
The portal shuddered again.
This time, someone fell out.
✦ Keith Von Talon
General of the Demon King's Military — The Sleeping Calamity
Keith hit the ground, yawned, then slowly lifted his head.
His horns curved like onyx scythes through messy, unruly charcoal-black hair. Faint fires glowed beneath the plates of his jagged armor, cracks of flame pulsing through like a contained inferno.
He leaned on his sword as if it were a walking stick.
Eyes half-closed. Barely awake.
He was terrifying simply because he did not care.
Keith blinked at the scenery.
"...So why are we here again?"
The Demon King cracked his neck.
"To return a favor."
Azrael raised a brow. "A favor?"
The King continued walking.
"Valoria decided to spy on my affairs. A certain someone decided to target someone under my protection. I'm returning the sentiment."
Keith yawned again.
"Ah. Retaliation. Tactical diplomacy."
Azrael stared. "That is NOT diplomacy."
Keith shrugged.
"Depends how much damage we cause."
The Demon King smirked.
"Tenfold. Minimum."
That finally woke Keith up.
✦ Valoria reacts
The peaceful market street froze.
Bakers gawked mid-knead.
Merchants stared mid-haggle.
Even the birds stopped chirping.
Then—
Screaming.
Guards scrambled to unsheathe weapons.
Farmers backed away from carts.
A priest dropped holy water on his foot and burst into swearing.
Keith scanned the chaos.
"Hey, question. Teleporting into another kingdom's capital… is that considered an act of war?"
Azrael ran a hand down his face.
"We teleported into their central plaza. Of course it's war."
Keith nodded thoughtfully.
"…Just checking."
✦ War Calculations
The Demon King flexed his gauntlets.
"If the Holy Empire sends their champions, we deal with it."
Azrael stiffened.
"You mean the Holy Seven?"
Keith stopped mid-step.
"THE Holy Seven? The ones blessed by their god?"
The Demon King:
"I can keep two occupied."
Azrael:
"And I'll hold one off."
Keith pointed at himself.
"…That still leaves four."
The Demon King didn't hesitate.
"I know someone who can handle the rest."
Azrael blinked.
Keith stared.
"Wait—WHO?"
The Demon King smirked.
"An old monster. Someone I haven't called on in a very, very long time."
Azrael and Keith exchanged a silent look that said:
We're absolutely going to die today.
✦ Valoria Castle — Throne Room
The doors blasted open with no physical touch.
Wind rushed. Mana spiraled. Torches flickered to fearful life.
King Erevos sat upon his throne — calm, composed, sipping tea as though nothing were happening.
He didn't rise.
Didn't flinch.
Not a single blink.
"So. It seems the rumors were true."
He set his teacup down with elegance.
"The Demon King graces Valoria with his presence."
The Demon King stepped forward, looming like a judgment.
"No rumors."
Flame crawled up his sword.
"Just consequences."