The convoy finally reached the Western Bastion, several days behind schedule. The relentless onslaught of goblin hordes and Great Trolls had slowed us to a crawl, but the exhaustion evaporated the moment we arrived.
A light drizzle fell from a leaden sky. The great gates, which should have stood as a testament to human defiance, lay shattered in heaps of splintered wood and twisted iron. Surrounding them was a vision of absolute carnage. The corpses of knights, common soldiers, and demon husks were strewn everywhere, piled atop one another in stagnant pools of gore.
I stood frozen. My entire body turned to stone at the sight of horrors I had never dared imagine. The metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of burnt iron choked the air, making every breath a struggle.
A few adventurers scrambled from the carriages, frantically checking the heaps for any sign of life. One returned to me, his face a ghostly pale.
"The blood is still warm, sir... this happened recently. Perhaps last night," he said, his voice trembling like a leaf in the wind.
I couldn't find the words to answer. My eyes scanned the wreckage, searching for logic amidst the chaos. Suddenly, a scream from the ruined gateway shattered the silence. We rushed forward, but as we crossed the threshold, our momentum died an abrupt death.
"What... what happened here?" an adventurer's voice cracked, brittle with terror.
My heart hammered against my ribs as if trying to escape. Before us, a vast, open plaza was entirely blanketed by the bodies of thousands—man and demon alike. The earth was invisible; there was only a sea of corpses stretching as far as the eye could see. Spears, swords, and arrows protruded from the mounds like a forest of dead iron. Blood ran in thick, dark rivulets, pooling between the bodies like crimson streams.
More horrifying still, half of the towering Western Bastion had collapsed. The massive breach in the stone looked as though it had been punched through by something far larger than any Troll I had ever slain.
I stepped forward, my boots landing with a tremor I couldn't hide. I moved inch by inch, trying not to tread upon the remains of the fallen. Behind me, the others drifted apart in a suffocating silence. We waded through that ocean of the dead—tangled, faceless shapes of men and monsters—clinging to a dying sliver of hope that we might find a single beating heart.
But my path ended in the long shadow of the shattered wall. There were no survivors. Not a single soldier. Not a single knight. My vision blurred, obscured by a film of hot, stinging tears.
"They all fell... defending this wall," I whispered, my voice breaking under the weight of the grief clawing at my throat.
"Look here!" a shout erupted from behind.
I turned. Several adventurers stood rigid atop the rubble, staring blankly into the distance. I scrambled up the jagged stones, desperate to see what could possibly leave them so spellbound.
"Oh, gods... no."
My knees buckled. I nearly fell, squeezing my eyes shut in a desperate attempt to reclaim my composure. The view beyond the wall was a hellscape beyond reckoning. The vast plains were no longer green; they were a carpet of human and demon remains, stacked high, extending beyond the horizon.
The sound of the others pushing forward forced me to open my eyes. I tried to draw a steadying breath, but the thick, cloying scent of rot and copper filled my lungs. I felt my stomach churn.
"Listen to me!"
My voice cracked like a whip, echoing against the fractured stone. Every eye turned to me, searching for direction in the middle of despair.
"Gather your supplies. Now. We must move on. There is nothing left to save here," I commanded, my voice hardened by a will that was weeping inside.
"Yes, Sir!" they answered in unison.
The Road of No Return
"Since Velanor fell, only men have remained to hold this wall. Though they knew their strength was insufficient, they staked their lives anyway."
The words drifted into my mind, fading in and out against the sound of the drizzle. Raindrops striking cracked steel armor created a faint, rhythmic chiming—a haunting dirge amidst this graveyard. My eyes caught a single figure: a Knight, frozen in a kneeling position, his fingers still white-knuckled around the hilt of a sword planted in the earth. Surrounding him was a mountain of demon carcasses—the final testament to his strength before the end.
I looked up, meeting the gazes of the adventurers awaiting my lead.
"I tell you once more... this is a road of death. Your lives are the ante. There is no turning back, for my goal is singular: to slay the Demon King. If any wish to return home, go now," I stated firmly.
"Even if we returned, there is no one left waiting for us, Sir," a voice called out from the group.
"True. Wherever you go, we follow. Though our lives be the price, we shall not falter!"
"We do not falter, Sir!"
The cry echoed, erupting from their throats with a sudden, fierce heat that shattered the silence of the dead fields. I clenched my jaw, the fury in my chest finally boiling over.
"Then let us go and slaughter those damned demons!"
The Decade of Ash
Time ceased to belong to me. From the moment my feet touched the demon realms, rest became a forbidden luxury. Battle erupted daily—relentless, merciless. My band of adventurers and I carved a path through storms of blood, toppling fortress after fortress, razed ancient citadels that served as nests for the dark.
I lost count. How many thousands of demons had I slain? I didn't know. Even the High Commanders and the seven "Calamity" ranked demons fell, dying gruesome deaths beneath the arc of my increasingly worn blade.
I am now fifty years old. A decade of my life has been devoured by the dust and stench of this realm. Before me stands the colossal gateway of the Demon King's palace—the final source of all our sorrow. At my side, only eleven adventurers still draw breath. Of the fifty-three who began, only they remain.
This is the moment. The Demon King must die today to end a war that has bled the world for millennia, though I know that what waits behind those doors is more terrible than anything I have ever faced.
I turned to them, a thin smile touching my lips as I looked at the faces I now considered brothers and sisters.
"This is the end of our journey. Are you ready?"
"We are always ready, Rowan," Walker replied. His face was calm, untouched by the looming shadow.
I looked at Liyona and Dowel—the last Elf and Dwarf standing by my side—before meeting the eyes of the others, one by one.
Thump!
With profound respect, I struck my right hand over my heart.
"It has been a singular honor to fight at your side!" my voice boomed, piercing the thick night air.
Thump! Thump!
The sound of fists hitting chests rang out in unison.
"The honor is ours, Sir Knight!"
The Treachery of the High Thrones
Our path through the palace was not the easy victory we had hoped for. Dark stone corridors teemed with ancient traps, guardian beasts, and cursed sorcery. But one by one, we overcame them. Finally, we reached the Great Hall.
The massive stone doors groaned as we pushed them open, the sound echoing into a vast, silent chamber. Before us stood a creature. A monster with two horns. It was towering, its black wings unfurled like a shroud of night. In its hands were twin blades wreathed in roaring red flames.
It offered a predatory, mocking grin.
But something was wrong. I stood still, measuring the creature. From its body... there was no crushing aura. No overwhelming presence of a king. It was weak. Far too weak.
Doubt flooded my mind. Is this truly the Demon King? Or is this a trap?
"Stay sharp!" I barked to my comrades.
Before they could respond, the monster lunged. Its movements were swift, its wings beating back waves of heat. The flaming swords swung in tandem, wreathed in fire-aspected mana.
Clang!
I parried the first strike. Then the second. And the third. I deflected every blow with a step to the side, my own blade singing as I released sharp arcs of mana. One strike caught the creature dead center, cleaving it in two.
But before the halves could hit the floor, the flesh knit back together.
"KAKAKAKA...!" the monster cackled, a dry, rasping sound.
I gritted my teeth. I wouldn't be baited by cheap provocations. Fine. Heal as fast as you like, I thought.
I charged again, my blade a blur of mana-infused steel. The creature leaped into the air to evade. I raised my hand. Fire erupted from my palm, lashing out like a serpent. The explosion engulfed it mid-air. Without a pause, I shifted my magic. The air froze. Ice crystals raced through the dying flames, encasing the monster before it could move.
It crashed to the floor, a frozen statue.
I frowned. It was too easy. There was no way a creature this pathetic was the Demon King. And then, I noticed the silence.
It was too quiet. I could no longer hear the voices of my friends behind me. No footsteps. No breathing. Nothing.
A cold dread crawled up my spine. I spun around. My eyes nearly bulged from their sockets. On the floor of the hall... my companions lay motionless. Their bodies were scattered across the cold stone, drenched in blood that was still pooling beneath them.
Walker. Liyona. Dowel. All of them.
"What—"
I took a step toward them. But before I could reach them—
SHINK!
Something cold and sharp tore through my back. The pain was blinding, absolute. I stopped. Slowly, I looked down. Two blades protruded from my chest, the steel slick with my own hot blood.
My legs gave out. I collapsed to my knees. My breath became a ragged struggle. My vision began to fray at the edges. I knew the wound was fatal. My life was pouring out onto the stone.
But I still didn't understand. Who? Who stabbed me?
Footsteps echoed slowly in front of me. I forced my head up. A man walked toward me, clad in gold armor that shimmered dimly in the torchlight. I knew that armor.
A Knight.
Then I realized two more figures stood to my left and right. They wore similar plate. Their faces were a blur as my sight failed, but before the darkness took me, I saw the engravings on their breastplates.
A Lion. A Wolf. An Eagle. The symbols of the High Knights.
My vision faded into a grey fog. I drew one final, shuddering breath.
"Forgive me... Masters," I whispered. "This is as far as I could go."
Darkness finally swallowed the world.
TWENTY YEARS BEFORE THE FALL OF VELANOR?