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The council chamber of Chronus was alive with tension. A massive map stretched across the oak table, its surface marked with red ink where villages had fallen. Nobles stood in clusters, whispering with unease, their pride chipped by the reports of demon incursions that outmatched ordinary soldiers.
At the head of the table, Commander Alaric leaned casually against his chair, balancing on two legs with alarming nonchalance. His silver cape draped half-off his shoulder, his polished armor slightly dented from his earlier trip into the doorframe. Despite his appearance, no one dared question his authority—the weight of his power was too well known.
"The reports are consistent," said a grim-faced noble. "Villages along the northern frontier are being wiped out. These aren't the low-tier demons of the past. Survivors speak of overwhelming strength."
"Overwhelming?" Rowan whispered to Selene, leaning close. "Like, scary overwhelming? Or 'oops, I dropped my bread' overwhelming?"
Selene gave him a flat look. "Rowan, you're hopeless."
Alaric clapped his hands, nearly losing balance from the chair but catching himself at the last second. "Ladies, gentlemen, apprentices, and mysterious prodigies—our task is simple! We investigate, confirm the truth of these Ashura whispers, and hit something if it looks at us funny."
Rowan raised his hand. "So… standard plan: walk, trip, scream, run, survive?"
Alaric grinned. "Precisely."
Icarus remained silent, his silver eyes scanning the map. His instincts whispered of patterns in the demon attacks—a rhythm, almost strategic, as though someone or something was orchestrating the incursions with careful precision.
The northern gate of Chronus opened with a groaning creak of iron. The scouting team assembled: Icarus, Selene, Rowan, Alaric, and a handful of nobles chosen more for politics than skill. Horses stamped impatiently, their breath steaming in the cold morning air.
Rowan, struggling to mount his horse, accidentally kicked its side too hard. The beast lurched forward, dragging him half-hanging, half-screaming down the cobblestone.
"Rowan!" Selene shouted, barely suppressing laughter. "Hold on!"
"I AM HOLDING ON!" Rowan shrieked, clinging to the reins like a drowning man. Eventually, the horse slowed, leaving Rowan disheveled, his hair sticking in every direction.
Alaric burst into laughter, nearly dropping his helmet. "Brilliant entrance, lad! The demons will flee in terror just from watching you mount a horse!"
Despite the comedy, the journey north carried a heavy undercurrent. The nobles muttered about rival clans, whispering suspicions of sabotage, while scouts rode ahead nervously.
Icarus rode silently, his silver hair catching the light of dawn. His senses reached outward, calm but vigilant. He could feel faint ripples of unnatural energy along the northern wind—a subtle, chilling omen.
By midday, the group passed through a village that should have been bustling with life. Instead, it lay silent, its homes burned to blackened shells. The smell of charred wood and lingering sulfur clung to the air.
Selene dismounted, kneeling by the remains of a shattered cart. "This wasn't a raid. It was a massacre."
Rowan, trying to lighten the mood, poked a broken fence. "Well… on the bright side, no chores to do here."
His joke fell flat. Even he grew quiet as they walked deeper into the ruins. Bloodstains marked the ground, and claw marks raked across stone walls—signs of demons, but sharper, deeper, more calculated than usual.
One of the nobles sneered. "Pathetic villagers. They probably provoked the demons. This wouldn't happen to real warriors."
Icarus's silver eyes snapped toward him. Calm, decisive, but carrying a chilling weight. "Strength means nothing if it does not protect those who cannot fight."
The noble faltered under his gaze, falling silent.
Alaric, scratching his chin, muttered, "Well said, Moonborn. If only more nobles thought that way… perhaps we'd actually get things done."
As evening fell, the group made camp near the forest edge. The air was unnaturally still, the moon hidden behind thick clouds. Suddenly, a shrill screech split the silence.
From the shadows emerged a pack of demons—hulking creatures with twisted horns and eyes burning like coals. Their bodies pulsed with an unnatural aura, darker and more potent than the lesser demons the world had grown accustomed to.
"Form up!" Alaric bellowed, drawing his sword. His aura flared, telekinetically pulling nearby rocks into a floating shield around the group.
Selene unsheathed her blade, wind currents swirling protectively around her. Rowan stumbled, nearly dropping his sword, but somehow managed to stand beside Icarus, trembling but determined.
Icarus stepped forward, calm as ever. His silver eyes narrowed. The demons moved with unusual coordination, their strikes sharp and deliberate. This was no random attack—it was a test, a probing strike orchestrated by something more intelligent.
With a flick of his hand, silver sparks danced across his sword. He deflected a claw strike, redirected another, and with precise movements cut down two demons in a single fluid motion.
Selene spun beside him, her blade slicing through the wind-enhanced arc of another demon. Rowan, panicked, swung wildly—tripped—and somehow managed to lodge his blade straight into the chest of a lunging creature.
He blinked. "I… I meant to do that!"
Alaric laughed even as he crushed a demon telekinetically. "Rowan, you magnificent disaster!"
But Icarus's mind was elsewhere. He could feel it—watching eyes in the forest, powerful and calculating. The strike was not meant to destroy them. It was a warning.
As the last demon fell, silence returned. Icarus turned his gaze northward, silver eyes reflecting the faint light of the moon.
"They're not just attacking at random," he murmured. "They're preparing. Testing us. Measuring our strength."
Alaric's expression darkened, his usual humor tempered by rare seriousness. "Ashura…"
Selene glanced between them. "Ashura? You mean the ones from the stories?"
Alaric nodded slowly. "Four generals. As strong as me, maybe stronger. If they've returned…" He trailed off, his eyes scanning the horizon.
Rowan gulped, breaking the tension. "Wait… so not chocolate, then?"
Even Alaric chuckled, though his laughter was softer this time. "Not chocolate, lad. Something far worse."
The fire crackled, sending sparks into the night sky. In the distance, the forest shadows shifted unnaturally, as if something enormous and ancient stirred beyond mortal sight.
The group settled into uneasy silence after the demon skirmish. A campfire crackled in the center of their makeshift camp, its orange light flickering across tense faces. Smoke spiraled into the night sky, only to be swallowed by the oppressive darkness.
Rowan sat cross-legged, chewing noisily on dried meat. "So…" he said between bites, "anyone else think those demons looked… smarter than the usual 'smash, roar, die' variety?"
"Smarter than you, that's for sure," Selene retorted, sipping from her flask.
Rowan clutched his chest in mock pain. "Ah! Struck by words sharper than any blade! Truly, Selene, your cruelty knows no bounds."
Alaric leaned back against a log, polishing his sword with surprising care for someone so casual. "Rowan has a point, though. These weren't common demons. Their coordination was… deliberate. Someone's leading them."
Icarus's silver eyes flicked toward the fire, their reflection giving him an almost ethereal glow. "They weren't attacking us to win. They were watching. Measuring."
One of the nobles scoffed. "You speak as though you understand demons, boy."
The camp went quiet.
Icarus turned slowly, his calm voice carrying a quiet weight. "Understanding your enemy is the difference between life and death. You'd do well to remember that, noble or not."
The noble paled but said nothing more.
Rowan leaned toward Selene and whispered loudly enough for half the camp to hear, "Remind me never to play cards with Icarus. That stare could turn stone into soup."
Even Selene cracked a smile at that, though she quickly hid it.
As the night deepened, Rowan volunteered to take first watch.
Big mistake.
Within an hour, he was already dozing off on a log, head bobbing dangerously close to falling into the fire. A loud snore startled the horses, and in his sleep, he muttered, "No, mother, I don't want to marry a goat…"
Selene groaned, tossing a pebble at him. "Rowan! Stay awake!"
The pebble smacked him square in the forehead. He jolted upright, sword in hand. "I'm awake! Demons, show yourselves!" He tripped over his own boots and fell flat on his back.
Alaric laughed so hard he nearly dropped his sword. "If laughter could kill demons, Rowan, you'd be our deadliest weapon!"
Icarus allowed himself the faintest of smiles, though his gaze soon drifted north again, ever watchful.
The following morning, tension simmered among the nobles.
"This is a fool's errand," one complained. "Risking our lives in demon-infested lands while the commander babysits brats."
"Brats with more spine than you," Alaric said casually, biting into an apple. "Careful, noble. Your fear is showing."
The noble bristled. "You—!"
Before he could finish, Icarus interjected, his tone calm but cutting. "If your pride blinds you, you'll be the first to die. And it won't be demons who kill you. It will be your arrogance."
The noble flushed red, words dying on his lips.
Rowan, sensing the tension, jumped in. "Well, on the bright side, at least demons don't make us listen to boring speeches!"
Selene smirked despite herself, and even some of the soldiers chuckled.
By midday, the group pressed deeper into the northern frontier. The forest here grew unnaturally dense, its trees twisted as if warped by some unseen corruption.
The silence was suffocating. No birds. No insects. Nothing.
Then, a faint rustling.
"Positions!" Alaric barked, his usual humor replaced by sharp command.
From the shadows leapt a swarm of smaller demons—doglike creatures with glowing fangs and claws that scraped against steel. But unlike before, they moved in eerie synchrony, attacking with precision rather than mindless fury.
Selene unleashed a gale of wind, scattering several into the trees. Rowan swung wildly, tripping over a root but somehow slicing through two demons at once. "Ha! Told you—totally planned!"
Icarus moved with surgical precision, his silver eyes calm. Every strike of his blade flowed like water, cutting down demons as though he already knew where they would attack.
But then, the forest itself trembled.
A larger demon emerged—towering, horned, its eyes burning crimson. Unlike the others, this one spoke, its guttural voice dripping with malice.
"Moonborn…" it hissed, its gaze locking onto Icarus. "You reek of the ancient one."
The word froze the camp. Selene's eyes widened. Rowan's jaw dropped.
Alaric stepped forward, sword raised, his aura flaring. "Back, beast."
The demon snarled, swinging its massive claw—but Alaric caught it midair with a single hand, his telekinesis halting the strike inches away. With a flick, he hurled the creature into a tree so hard the trunk cracked.
The demon laughed even as it staggered up. "The Ashura… will feast on his blood." With that, it dissolved into black smoke.
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Selene broke the silence first. "Did… that demon just speak?"
Rowan's hands trembled as he tried to steady his sword. "Not only spoke—it said Moonborn. Icarus… what does that mean?"
Icarus remained calm, though a storm brewed in his silver eyes. He had heard whispers in old records, myths of a Moonborn long ago. But to hear it from a demon's mouth…
Alaric sheathed his sword, his face unusually grim. "It means the stories might be true. The Ashura remember the Moonborn. And they fear him enough to send warnings."
Rowan gulped. "Warnings? That was a warning?!"
Selene glanced at Icarus, her expression softening. "Whatever it means, we'll face it together."
Alaric broke the tension with his usual grin. "Aye! And if we can't win, Rowan can always trip his way into another lucky victory!"
Rowan sputtered. "Hey!"
The camp laughed—nervously, but laughter nonetheless. Yet beneath the humor, the weight of what had transpired pressed on all of them. The Ashura weren't myths. They were waiting. Watching.
And they knew the name Moonborn.
That night, the group set camp along a ridge overlooking the forest. The fire crackled, but its warmth did little to chase away the chill creeping in from the trees.
Selene polished her sword in silence, her brows furrowed in thought. Rowan, on the other hand, was loudly trying to roast a chunk of meat on a stick—badly. The flames kept scorching it black.
"Rowan," Selene sighed, "that's not cooking. That's arson."
He held up the charred lump proudly. "It's called flavor!"
Alaric chuckled, sprawled comfortably on a log. "Don't mock him, Selene. One day, Rowan's cooking might be the secret weapon we unleash on the demons. Nothing survives after eating that."
Rowan scowled. "Commander! You wound me!"
"Only your pride, lad."
Even Icarus cracked a faint smile. For a moment, the camp felt alive, warm, almost normal. But the shadow of the demon's words lingered: Moonborn.
When most had settled, Icarus sat apart, his silver eyes reflecting the firelight. Selene approached quietly, taking a seat beside him.
"You've been silent since that demon spoke," she said softly.
"I'm thinking," Icarus replied. "Why would a demon know that word? And why would it direct it at me?"
Selene hesitated before placing a hand on his arm. "Whatever it means, you're not alone in this. You have us. Rowan, Commander Alaric… me."
For the first time that day, Icarus's expression softened. "Thank you, Selene."
Behind them, Rowan whispered loudly to one of the soldiers, "Bet you ten silver they fall in love before we finish this mission."
Selene whirled. "ROWAN!"
Rowan grinned sheepishly. "What? I'm just saying what we're all thinking!"
The camp erupted into laughter, even Alaric choking on his drink.
Later, when the laughter had died down and most had drifted to sleep, Alaric approached Icarus. He was rarely serious, but his face now carried the weight of his years.
"You handled yourself well today," he said quietly. "But you need to understand something, Moonborn. The world will not forgive what you are."
Icarus frowned. "What I am?"
Alaric stared into the fire, his voice low. "Long ago, there was another Moonborn. Ishgar. The demons hate that name for a reason. He sealed them away, ninety thousand years ago. If they see you as his successor, you'll be their greatest enemy."
Icarus's hand tightened on his sword. "Then I'll do what must be done."
Alaric studied him for a long moment, then smirked. "You've got guts, lad. Just don't get cocky. Until you unlock your full potential, you'd lose to me."
The moment of tension broke as he winked. "And I'm not in the mood to babysit a glowing corpse."
Icarus almost laughed, but the weight of Alaric's words lingered.
As the fire dimmed, the group drifted to rest. But Alaric lingered awake, gazing at the stars. His usually carefree eyes held something else tonight—longing.
From a small pouch, he pulled out a pendant: a carved wooden charm in the shape of a leaf. He ran his thumb across it with uncharacteristic gentleness.
Rowan, pretending to sleep nearby, cracked one eye open. "Commander… that from a girl?" he whispered.
Alaric nearly jumped out of his skin. "ROWAN! By the gods, don't sneak up on a man like that!"
Rowan grinned. "Didn't sneak. Just… observed. Sooo… is she pretty?"
Alaric scowled but couldn't hide the faint blush on his face. "Go to sleep before I toss you into the fire."
Rowan chuckled softly, rolling back over. But he filed the moment away. The Commander had secrets too.
In the dead of night, the forest stirred. Branches groaned, and shadows writhed unnaturally. Icarus, awake as always, felt the shift first. He rose silently, silver aura flickering at the edges of his form.
Selene stirred beside him. "What is it?" she whispered.
"Something's watching us," he murmured.
And then it came—a low, guttural growl that rolled through the trees, deeper than any beast they had faced. The ground trembled faintly, as though some ancient predator moved in the distance.
Alaric rose immediately, his aura flaring, pebbles and rocks levitating around him like tiny stars. "Stay sharp," he ordered, voice unusually sharp.
The nobles scrambled awake, fumbling for weapons. Rowan grabbed his sword backward at first before correcting himself, muttering, "I was… testing you all."
But the growl faded. The forest stilled.
Whatever had been there… was gone.
The next morning, they pressed onward, unease heavy in the air. The forest began thinning, revealing ruins of ancient stone half-buried in moss.
One of the soldiers whispered nervously. "This place… it feels cursed."
A historian among the nobles traced a hand along the carvings. "Not cursed. Ancient. These ruins predate the kingdoms. They say the Ashura once walked here, commanding legions of demons."
Rowan gulped. "Wait… walked here? As in… strolled down this very path, maybe stopped for a picnic, then slaughtered a few villages on the side?"
The historian ignored him. "There are rumors… that the Ashura were once mortal. That they transcended into monsters through blood pacts with the Demon King."
Selene frowned. "Mortal? You mean… they were like us?"
The historian nodded gravely. "Stronger than us. Warriors beyond compare. Which is why even Commander Alaric would have trouble against one."
All eyes turned to Alaric, who smirked. "Trouble, maybe. Defeated? Never."
But Icarus felt the weight of the ruins pressing on him. The demons were not merely returning. They were reclaiming lost ground.
As the group moved deeper into the northern frontier, the ruins grew more frequent, each etched with strange symbols that pulsed faintly at night.
Selene shivered. "These ruins… it feels like they're alive."
Rowan leaned closer, squinting at one of the carvings. "Alive? What if they start talking? 'Hello, Rowan, please feed me your soul.' Nope. Not happening."
Icarus stopped suddenly. His silver eyes narrowed.
"What is it?" Selene asked.
"Nothing," Icarus replied, though unease flickered in his gaze. He didn't want to worry them—not yet. But he had felt it again. Watching eyes.
And this time, they weren't just watching.
They were waiting.
By late afternoon, the ruins deep in the frontier grew darker, more twisted. Vines clung to broken arches, and faint crimson light pulsed from cracks in the stone as though the earth itself bled.
Rowan scratched his head nervously. "Sooo… this doesn't scream 'death trap' to anyone else? Just me?"
Selene gave him a sharp look. "Rowan, for once in your life, keep your mouth shut."
Alaric chuckled. "If Rowan kept his mouth shut, the world would be too quiet."
Icarus's silver eyes scanned the ruins carefully. His instincts screamed at him—the air was too heavy, too thick with malice. "We're not alone," he murmured.
The ground trembled. Cracks split through the stone floor of the ruins. Then it emerged.
A towering demon, easily twice the height of a man, its skin jet black and veined with glowing crimson. Two massive horns curled back from its skull, and its wings—ragged but enormous—spread wide, blotting out the faint sun. Unlike the lesser demons, this one radiated intelligence, cruelty sharpened by purpose.
Its voice was deep and rumbling, words dripping with venom.
"Moonborn… Ishgar's blood lives. My master was right."
The nobles gasped. Selene and Rowan froze. Even Alaric's eyes narrowed with rare seriousness.
Icarus drew his sword, silver sparks dancing across the blade. His calm voice cut through the fear. "If you're here for me, you'll have to go through all of us."
The demon sneered. "Then you will all die."
The demon struck first, its claw slamming down like a falling boulder. Alaric's aura flared, his telekinesis catching the blow midair, though the sheer force sent cracks spiderwebbing through the ground.
"Move!" Alaric barked.
Selene surged forward, her blade whirling as gusts of wind wrapped around her strikes. She slashed at the demon's arm, cutting deep but not enough to slow it.
Rowan charged—then tripped over a loose stone, rolling across the ground. The demon's tail whipped down where he'd just been, cracking the earth.
Rowan blinked, staring at the crater. "I… totally dodged that on purpose."
Alaric roared with laughter even as he wrestled the demon telekinetically. "Rowan, you're the luckiest fool I've ever seen!"
Icarus dashed in, silver energy blazing along his blade. His strikes were precise, cutting through the demon's hardened skin, sparks flying with each clash. The demon growled, wings flaring, and unleashed a burst of crimson fire.
Icarus crossed his arms, silver aura forming a shield that split the flames apart. The fire parted like waves crashing against a rock.
While the others fought, Rowan scrambled desperately, looking for anything to help. His eyes fell on a set of strange carvings on the ruins' walls—symbols glowing faintly with crimson light.
"Uh… guys? This wall's having a rave."
No one paid attention.
Frustrated, Rowan kicked the wall. The carvings flared, and suddenly, chains of glowing light erupted from the ground, wrapping around the demon's legs.
The creature roared in fury, thrashing violently.
Rowan froze. "I… did that?"
Alaric laughed so hard he nearly lost his telekinetic grip. "By the gods, Rowan, keep kicking walls! You're a walking disaster miracle!"
The demon snarled, breaking one of the chains with sheer force, but the brief restraint gave Icarus his opening.
Silver light burst from Icarus, his eyes glowing fiercely. His sword carved upward in a blazing arc, striking the demon across its chest. The creature howled, stumbling back, its black blood sizzling against the stone.
But instead of falling, it laughed.
"You're strong… too strong. The Ashura will come for you, Moonborn. And when they do… even your dragons and phoenixes will bow."
With a guttural roar, the demon's body dissolved into black smoke, retreating into the cracks of the ruins.
The battlefield fell silent.
Selene panted, lowering her sword. "That… wasn't just a demon."
Alaric nodded grimly. "A lieutenant. A servant of the Ashura. If they're sending their lieutenants now… then the real storm is coming."
Rowan raised his hand. "Question: does this mean I just saved us all by kicking a wall?"
Alaric slapped his back hard enough to nearly knock him over. "Aye! Rowan the Wall-Kicker, bane of demons!"
Selene groaned. "Don't encourage him."
Icarus, though calm on the surface, felt the weight of the demon's words. The Ashura will come for you, Moonborn.
He glanced northward, the ruins stretching into endless shadows. Somewhere beyond them, four generals of unimaginable strength waited.
And they already knew his name.
As the group prepared to move on, a chill wind swept through the ruins. A faint voice, barely audible, whispered through the cracks in the stone.
Moonborn… your blood will end us… or free us.
Icarus turned, silver eyes gleaming. He said nothing.
But deep inside, he knew.
This was only the beginning.