The dark hall of the demons' palace looked like a petrified maw: gothic arches, spires stabbing the night sky, and crystals pulsing dimly with overfilled dark energy. The Demon Queen stood by the window like a statue. Eyes—cold as ice. A heart—splintering under strain.
"If he truly comes… If the Dark Lord dares set foot on my continent… then I need every card in my hand. Even the one I consider weak."
—"If only that redheaded bitch doesn't let me down…"
She tore space with a single sweep of her hand. The portal roared like an enraged beast. And she stepped into it like an empress of chaos.
Revena's Tent
Inside smelled of smoke, fabric, and cheap rose perfume. Revena—hair unbraided, red tresses spilling over her shoulders, a thin nightgown that hinted more than it hid. She sat on a cushion, gazing at her reflection in a copper mirror. In her eyes—fire. Not confidence—anger. Helplessness.
—"What am I to him? Just another one? He doesn't look at me the way he looks at them…"
The air suddenly shivered. A portal ripped out of the night with thunder and a roar. The queen stormed into the tent.
—"Sitting like a night maid in a brothel!"
Her gaze slid over Revena's body.
—"What are you even wearing? Is this supposed to seduce him?! You're not some dungeon cheapling!"
—"This… this is what works. When he sees a leg—he blushes. Looks away. Doesn't know what to say."
—"Oh, what a strategy! And what about taking him by the throat? Like a demoness?!
—"You plan to wait until he crawls under your blanket himself? What is he, a prince in your fantasies?!"
Revena rose. Fury flashed, but she held her tongue. Bare shoulders; her breasts covered only by a veil of fabric.
The queen closed the distance until they were almost touching.
—"I raised you as a weapon. And I got a girl who's shy of his hands.
—"You should have had him long ago!"
—"And what… if he doesn't want to?"
The queen's laughter cracked into hysteria.
—"Doesn't want to?! He's a man. And you're a demoness! He should be begging for a night beside you!"
A beat. Then, quieter, edged with fury:
—"Instead you stand here—humiliated. And silent."
Revena lowered her head.
—"Because he… isn't alone. He has… others."
The queen said nothing. In the next instant she seized Revena's face and turned it toward her with force.
—"Others?! I've seen them. The elf. The orc woman. The healer…
—"Whores who touched his heart before you even managed to say 'hello'!"
She strode to the tent's edge and yanked the flap open. Beyond the canvas, in moonlight, those same three women passed—beautiful, assured, unyielding. The queen's gaze burned them to ash.
—"See? They're already inside his heart."
—"I'll do it. I'll find a way."
—"You'll find a way, or I'll make you exactly what they already think you are—a doll on a leash.
—"Seduce him. Win his trust. Play those fools. Get close to him. And bring him to me.
—"I need him. His strength. His army. If the Dark Lord declares war—I cannot afford to lose such an ally."
—"Yes, Your Majesty."
She paused before vanishing.
—"If you fail this…
—"…I'll tear off your wings. And gift them to a whore who can do more."
The portal roared again—and swallowed her. The air seemed cleaner, but fire burned in Revena's eyes. She stepped to the mirror, took a knife, and cut a lock from her hair. Red curls fell to the ground.
—"I'll find a way, bitch… I will."
The sun had already slipped behind the jagged mountain peaks. The air grew colder, as if the night itself was surveying the land for what to claim. Kano walked ahead like a shadow, strong and silent. His sword glinted faintly in the sheath across his back. Stones slid underfoot, but he moved with a steady confidence, as though he felt no fatigue.
Elgot followed behind, wrapped in a dark mantle. His left shoulder ached—the old wound nagged him whenever the weather turned. But more than the pain, his thoughts tormented him.
"He's silent… again. As if he's shut himself away. As if something inside has already decided, and doesn't want to hear me.
His power is growing. I can feel it. But with it—danger grows too. Because whoever holds power will, sooner or later, want to judge others."
—"Elgot…"
—"How do I pour more mana into magic? Into sword strikes?"
Elgot lifted his head. He'd been waiting for this question. And fearing it.
—"That's a good question. And a very dangerous one."
He stepped closer. Stopped by a boulder and leaned against it.
—"Anyone can pour in everything.
—"It's easy. You tense your body, rip the maximum mana out of yourself—and strike.
—"You can throw a blow that wipes the enemy off the face of the earth.
—"But…"
He paused. His gaze went sharp, cold.
—"…mana recovers very slowly. For the gifted—hours. For most—one or two days.
—"And if you spend it all in the first seconds—you're defenseless. A sword without a blade. A mage without a gleam."
Kano said nothing, eyes fixed on the distance. Somewhere below, a river thundered, hidden between rocks.
—"'Drink a potion,' some fool will say. But even mana potions are poison if you take too many.
—"The body won't withstand it. The liver burns. The heart fails.
—"I've seen mages drop dead after a fourth vial. Pupils blown wide, pulse like a drum. And then—silence."
"I've seen my students die. Their bodies still clung to life. Their souls were already fleeing."
—"True strength isn't just mana. It's understanding the fight.
—"You can't pour the maximum into every strike. That's suicide.
—"A fight is like music. Rhythm, pause, tension. And only at the end—the final chord.
—"And only in that last strike—do you put in everything."
—"But how do you know it's the last?"
Elgot smiled crookedly. A shadow of wisdom moved in his eyes.
—"You never know for certain.
—"But if your mind is clear, your heart clean, and your purpose true…
—"the universe itself will tell you when to strike."
Kano stopped. The wind tossed his hair; his face was taut. His eyes seemed to scour the clouds for an answer.
—"I know what I want…"
—"What's that? Didn't catch it. Say it again," Elgot prodded with a smile.
—"I said—I know what I want!"
—"Ah, the wind's in the way… one more time, kid," Elgot joked.
—"I WANT POWER!!!"
The silence after the shout was louder than the shout itself. Only the wind tore off the ridge of stone, as if trying to carry that "I WANT POWER!" to the whole of the sky.