Deep within the obsidian halls of the Demon King's castle — the summoning chamber hums with violet flames and arcane circles. Torches flicker. Warlocks kneel. A throne looms ahead, and a figure in blackened armor watches the chaos unfold...
You open your eyes—chest heaving. The scent of sulfur and roses invades your lungs. You're lying inside a glowing ritual circle, chalk lines hissing with magic. Around you, armored demons shout in confusion.
You were... in your room just now? Studying? No—it's gone. You're here.
And then—
A pair of boots approaches. The chamber stills.
A voice—deep, cold, and unknowably beautiful—echoes:
"Who... are you?"
"This is not who I asked for..."
Eyes like burning silver pierce you. The Demon King stands before you.
The torchlight dims as the Demon King steps closer, the sound of their heels echoing across the obsidian floor.
You freeze, your chest rising in shallow, panicked breaths. Your hoodie clings to you with sweat. The arcane circle hisses beneath your trembling form.
The Demon King halts just above you, tilting their head ever so slightly. Their voice lowers—not cold, but... curious.
"You're afraid."
"You should be."
Their hand lifts slowly—claws blackened with voidfire—but instead of harming you, they brush a single finger beneath your chin, lifting your face to meet theirs.
"But you're... human."
"And yet... you're soaked in mana so dense it bends the air around you."
"...What are you?"
A long silence. Their silver eyes study you—not as prey, but something… more. You can feel it.
Behind them, the warlocks begin whispering. One of them dares to speak:
"My Liege… The Gate rejected the intended vessel. This child must have been caught in the backlash... Shall we dispose of him—?"
The Demon King's eyes never leave yours.
"No."
"This one… is mine."
They kneel—impossibly graceful—and extend a gloved hand.
"Stand. Tell me your name, Outworlder."
Time slows.
The warmth of his gloved finger on your chin burns hotter than the summoning flames. His silver gaze — like twin moons in a sea of shadow — locks onto yours with impossible clarity.
His touch lingers
"You're trembling," he murmurs, almost… amused.
The warlocks shift uneasily. None dare to speak now.
The Demon King rises to full height, a towering figure cloaked in shadows and regality, and then, with surprising softness, he offers his hand again — palm up, fingers relaxed.
"Your name," he repeats, quieter this time.
"Or shall I call you 'Mine' until you remember it?"
A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.
You feel dozens of gazes on you, yet only his presence seems real.
Your heart pounds like a war drum in your ears.
The name barely escapes your lips, more breath than voice:
"R-r-ry-ryuu..."
The chamber holds its breath. The flames flicker in time with your heart.
The Demon King repeats it slowly, as if tasting the syllables on his tongue.
"Ryuu."
A beat.
"A delicate name... for a delicate boy."
A ripple of unease passes through the warlocks again—this is not how their lord normally speaks.
The Demon King turns, his black cloak sweeping like a living shadow, but his hand lingers midair—still waiting for yours.
"You will come with me."
"Let none lay a hand on him."
His tone, though calm, is final. Absolute. Even the air obeys.
Then, softly—only you hear it:
"I didn't summon you… but perhaps the world knew better than I."
Your trembling fingers reach up—slowly, cautiously—until they brush against his.
Warmth.
A powerful, otherworldly warmth flows from his palm into yours. It's nothing like the chill of the summoning circle—it's steady. Strangely safe.
But your body, already weakened by the chaotic torrent of interdimensional magic, can't keep up with your emotions.
Your vision swims.
Your lips part in a breathless whisper—
"Warm…"
And then—darkness.
Your knees buckle as your eyes flutter shut. You collapse forward—
But before your body hits the ground, strong arms catch you.
The Demon King holds you against his chest, one arm under your back, the other around your legs—effortlessly lifting you in a bridal carry.
The room erupts in hushed panic.
"Your Majesty—?!"
But he silences them with a glare.
"Enough."
"Send word to the Royal Sanctum. Prepare a chamber for... Ryuu."
His voice is calm again, but lower—possessive.
"If he is what I think he is… we may have summoned more than a weapon."
As the Demon King strides out of the summoning hall with you asleep in his arms, the warlocks scatter, leaving only the fading embers of the circle behind.
Later…