The last child screamed.
It was a brief sound.
Desperate.
And when it faded, the world fell silent.
Not a single heartbeat remained within the entire Duchy of Douglas.
The doors stood open. Bread still rested on the tables. Smoke continued to rise from a few chimneys.
But there was no one left to see it.
No farmers.
No soldiers.
No elders.
No children.
Fifty thousand lives had vanished in a single instant.
As if an invisible hand had torn their souls away.
At the heart of the capital, a colossal magic circle covered the central square.
Its runes glowed with a deep crimson light.
Blood flowed through every line of the ritual as though it were still alive.
And at its center...
a man opened his eyes.
Lucian Douglas of Mondring drew a slow breath.
The air trembled.
Darkness poured from his body like smoke, spreading across the ground.
Wherever it touched...
stone cracked.
Grass withered.
Life itself faded away.
Across his chest, a black mark began to pulse.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
With every beat, a crushing pressure spread outward, shattering nearby windows into thousands of pieces.
The ritual was complete.
He had obtained the power he sought.
The price...
had been his own people.
Lucian lowered his gaze.
Only a few steps away lay a rag doll.
Its owner was gone.
Farther ahead, a sword rested beside the motionless body of a knight.
No one would ever wield it again.
All of Mondring looked like a city frozen in time.
There were no fires.
No screams.
Only a silence so deep it became unbearable.
Lucian closed his eyes.
For a fleeting moment, he thought he heard voices.
"My lord..."
"Please..."
"Save us..."
The voices vanished as quickly as they had come.
The mark on his chest pulsed again.
Harder.
And every remaining emotion was swallowed by the darkness.
When he opened his eyes once more...
nothing human remained within them.
"Now..." he murmured.
His voice sounded strange.
As though another presence were speaking alongside him.
"No one can stop me now."
He took one step.
The stone beneath his feet turned black.
He took another.
The flowers growing beside the road crumbled into dust.
Dark clouds gathered above the city.
The sky lost its color.
Even the wind stopped blowing.
It was as though the world itself rejected the existence of such power.
Far away...
church bells began to ring.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
They did not announce a victory.
They announced the birth of a Demon.
People say that the gods write every person's fate before they draw their first breath.
That every life is nothing more than a piece upon a board only they can understand.
That every soul is recorded within the Book of Destiny, guided without fail toward the ending assigned to it.
No one can escape it.
No one can rewrite it.
And yet...
there was one man who chose to challenge the gods themselves.
To obtain the power he desired, he sacrificed an entire duchy.
Fifty thousand lives.
From that day forward, the name Lucian Douglas of Mondring no longer belonged to a man.
The world came to know him as...
the Demon.
Months later...
In the Forest of Mongul, that destiny was about to be fulfilled.
The sky remained hidden beneath motionless clouds, as though the world itself were holding its breath.
The sacred forest had fallen silent.
No birds sang.
No beasts stirred.
Even the earth seemed to await its verdict.
At the top of a hill ravaged by war stood Lucian Douglas of Mondring.
His black cloak, torn by countless battles, billowed in the wind.
Around him, darkness swirled—
thick...
almost alive.
The grass beneath his feet withered, consumed by the corruption flowing through his blood.
Before him...
twenty heroes advanced in formation.
Blessed armor shimmered with steady light. Banners waved, filled with the faith of those who still believed. And with every step they took, the forest seemed to slowly regain the breath it had lost.
Among them stood out four figures.
Kara, Hero of Strength, whose steps made the earth tremble.
Alejandro, Hero of Fire, burning even as blood ran down his arm.
Leonardo, Hero of Lightning, still, precise, eyes locked on his enemy.
And Emily, Hero of Light.
The woman who had once been his fiancée and who had once held his hand… before everything changed.
Lucian smiled.
—It no longer matters. I'm going to end everything.
He drew his black sword, Dainslein.
The air distorted.
The ground cracked.
The mark of the demonic pact burned on his chest, elevating his power beyond human limits. The surrounding mana was violently devoured; the air grew heavy, the earth darkened, life itself recoiled.
Darkness did not spread like shadow—it solidified at his will.
The sky darkened instantly.
Above them, black spears began to appear.
Hundreds.
Suspended in the air, aligned as if the sky had turned upside down.
It was darkness… made into matter.
—I am the only one worthy of ruling these lands —he declared.
The spears fell.
The sky turned black.
The impact tore through the hill. The heroes' formation broke in an instant. Kara was thrown against a rock. Leonardo intercepted lightning that barely opened gaps in the endless rain. Alejandro raised walls of fire that melted fragments… but could not destroy the will behind them.
Because this was not simple power.
It was a pact… a demonic one.
And it had been paid for with the people of his own duchy.
Black chains emerged from the ground and seized ankles. Swords burst from the cracks. Shadowed hands dragged bodies into the earth.
Behind Lucian, the pact took form: a colossal silhouette, faceless, as if night itself had risen.
—This is the power the gods fear —he said quietly—. Who are they to decide who deserves to rule?
For an instant—
Emily stepped forward.
Her armor of light shone amidst the darkness. Around her, the falling spears dissolved upon touching her aura, becoming nothing but dust.
She stopped in front of the fallen heroes, shielding them with her own body.
—Lucian…
Her voice did not tremble.
—This ends here.
Lucian looked at her. For a moment, something in his gaze wavered. But the mark on his chest burned brighter, and the silhouette behind him roared.
—Emily… —he murmured—. It's not over.
—Yes.
There were tears in her eyes, but she did not step back.
—Lucian… look at it.
Her voice lowered, barely a whisper, yet it pierced through the noise of battle.
—Do you really think all of this was worth it?
Ashes drifted between them.
—All those people…
She said no more. None was needed.
Around them, the other heroes kept fighting, trapped between writhing shadows.
Lucian clenched his fists. For a second, he remembered. No names, no faces. Only blood. And silence.
—Then what? —he finally answered, voice tense—. Why them?
He lifted his gaze, locking it onto her.
—Why did the gods choose them… and leave me behind?
Emily raised her hand. A small light was born in her palm. It was not overwhelming, but it was steady.
—They didn't leave you behind.
She took a step. Then another. The spears kept falling, but it did not matter.
—You were the one who chose this path.
The light grew, gentle.
—Your people died because of this, Lucian.
Her voice broke slightly.
—And yet… they believed in you.
Lucian closed his eyes.
—It's too late… —he whispered—. The pact is complete.
He opened them again. Empty.
—You can't stop me.
Emily shook her head slowly.
—It's not your power.
Another step.
—It never was.
The shadow behind him roared, unraveling. A wave of darkness surged toward her.
Emily did not move. She closed her eyes and sang. She cast a spell, and…
The darkness stopped. The spears trembled in midair. The chains began to loosen.
Lucian fell to his knees. His sword sank into the earth. The mark on his chest flickered, unstable.
—No… —he gasped—. This isn't…
His voice broke.
Emily stopped in front of him. She looked at him closely, as before. She raised her weapon and placed its tip against his chest.
And then—
Light descended, like an inevitable judgment, piercing through Lucian's heart.
The pact mark shattered. The colossal silhouette collapsed like something that should never have existed under the sun. The black spears cracked in the air and dissolved, like darkness when light reaches it.
Lucian fell.
The forest regained the whisper of the wind.
Grass began to sprout through the scorched earth.
So it had to be.
So it was written.
Emily held his gaze as the light passed through him. There was no hatred in her eyes.
And in his, there was no plea.
His lips moved.
No sound came out.
But something changed.
Somewhere beyond the sky…
a page opened in the Book of Destiny.
There was nothing written.
As if destiny itself had disappeared.