Tonight marked the final battle between humankind and the demon race.
Wind roared through the ruins, whipping up dust that struck against my skin like a storm of needles.
I narrowed my eyes. The air was thick with the metallic sting of blood and rust—so cold it burned with every breath.
Five heroes stood together,
facing the Demon Emperor —Erebus.
The broken walls groaned in the wind, and faint murmurs seeped from the cracks, like the whispers of the dead.
The sky hung oppressively low, heavy clouds crushing down and smothering the light. What little glow slipped through flickered weakly—like a dying flame refusing to fade.
This was the end of the world.
The forsaken Holy Capital.
The air bit like steel, reeking of charred flesh; every gust that brushed my skin felt like a blade testing for weakness.
The wind tore through my hair, tangling it across my face. My palm pressed against the sword hilt—slick with sweat.
The city was breathing. Slow, cold, deep—like some unseen creature beneath the ruins.
Far ahead, the cracks in the ground glowed faintly, as if the night itself was being torn apart.
The wind came from the heart of the dead city, carrying ash and bone dust. It struck our faces in waves, stinging the eyes, scraping the skin raw. The air reeked of burnt metal and rot—like rusted blood. We stood before the half-collapsed cathedral, five of us, with a dead plain at our backs. Only stones made sound in the wind—sharp, hollow clicks—like a countdown to something inevitable.
Kaen held his shield, cracked and battered, unmoving as stone. The wind pulled at his cloak, but not at his stance. Every scar on that shield spoke of a memory, a wound survived. He exhaled once; metal clicked faintly. I saw the tremor in his shoulder. Not fear—readiness.
Lilia's bow was already drawn. Dried blood marked her hands; her gaze was sharp and cold as a blade. The bowstring quivered and sang a single low note. I caught the faint scent from her—a mix of leaves and dust. The forest never left her; it clung like a ghost of another world.
Derran's spear stood upright, point buried in the dirt. His armor was burned and cracked; the wind whistled through its gaps with a hollow moan. Sweat ran down his neck, darkening the grip of his weapon. I could almost hear his heart pounding against his ribs—steady, unyielding.
Aelwyn's eyes were closed. Her lips moved in a whisper, almost lost in the wind, yet the air grew still around her voice. The old ring on her finger glimmered faintly, trembling with each breath. The wind caught her hair, and the words she spoke turned to light—thin, fragile light that shimmered between us.
My name is Aris Kael. Captain of this final company.
The ground beneath us was soft with mud and dried blood. Each step sank with a cold, seeping touch. This was the last frontier of mankind—where even the wind had grown heavy. It dragged dust across our faces, scraping away warmth, erasing what little life remained. The air itself smelled like war's breath—burnt and bloodstained.
I looked up at the broken walls of the city. Nothing left but silhouettes. And for a heartbeat, I remembered the streets of my youth—the cries of vendors, the smell of bread, the laughter of children chasing each other through the alleys. That was when I truly understood: the past never comes back.
We were the last five. The last hope.
I gripped my sword tighter, feeling the slick heat of sweat between my fingers. Everyone's eyes were on me. No one spoke. They waited.
Then—the wind changed.
A low hum rolled from the horizon. It scraped the air like metal, deep and guttural, almost alive. The sound crawled beneath the earth, shaking it, pressing against our hearts.
Something was stirring. Something buried too long.
The ground trembled. Dust fell from the cracks beneath our boots. A deep, rhythmic thud—like the heartbeat of a giant—echoed from below.
The wind shifted again, this time rushing out from the ruins. Ash and pebbles spiraled upward. The light dimmed; the sky sank lower, crushing the world beneath its weight. The air turned sharp, knife-cold. Even the wind seemed to hesitate. My breath caught. My chest locked tight.
"He's coming," Lilia murmured.
Her voice nearly vanished in the wind, but her eyes didn't move. The bowstring trembled; blood whitened her knuckles.
Kaen raised his shield again. The metal clasps snapped into place—clack. His muscles drew taut, every line of him coiled for the impact to come.
"Ael, be ready!" Derran's voice rasped through the dust—low, rough as gravel. His spear scraped sparks off the stone. He looked back once, eyes cold as tempered steel.
The air thickened. Sweat and dust clung to our faces. We all knew what this moment was. The last breath before the storm. Even breathing felt like trespass. The hum from afar grew clearer—each pulse counting down to the end.
I inhaled sharply. The cold air burned down my throat, locking in my chest like ice.
The mark on my palm began to glow. Light seeped through the skin—white-hot, searing like a blade pressed against flesh. My gift warning me. The power ahead was too strong. A wrong move, a single mistake—and I'd burn to ash from within.
I clenched my teeth, holding it back. The heat climbed through my arm, crawling toward my shoulder. My fingers stiffened. Sweat forced its way through my grip. The air tasted of salt and rust.
This war should've ended years ago. Back when we were still young enough to believe in sacrifice. But time dragged us here, and now only five remained.
I looked at them. Kaen's shield—cracked, bleeding in its lines. Lilia's string—quivering, her eyes sharp as glass. Derran's spear—still, his breath steady. Aelwyn whispering to the wind, her voice too faint to hold.
No words. Just one unspoken truth in all their eyes.
—This is the end.
The hum deepened, like the heartbeat of a colossal beast beneath the world. The sound pressed into the air, reminding us—time's over.
Then the sky broke. A crack split through the clouds, shrieking like the world's skin tearing apart. From its edges bled darkness—thick, cold, metallic-black. The wind froze. I could hear only my heartbeat. Sweat traced down my spine, icy, sinking deep into bone.
From that rift, black liquid spilled—dense as tar. It fell through the air, dripping slow, heavy. Each drop burst on the ground with a snap, releasing a stench like rotting oil and blood. When the first hit, the air shattered. Dust rose in spirals; stones scattered. One shard struck my face. A taste of ash reached my tongue—bitter, burnt.
Kaen stepped forward, shield raised. The impact thundered like a drum. Debris scattered; light twisted. He staggered once—but held. The cracks across his shield spread like veins of fire.
Smoke rose. The ground bled black. Then the smoke moved. It pulsed. It breathed.
Something clawed its way out.
It had the shape of a man—or what used to be one. Flesh hung in strips, fused with black flame. The meat twitched, rebelling against its bones. Wherever it stepped, the earth charred. Bones turned to dust. Even sound seemed to die around it.
The stench hit first—thick, rotten, alive.
But worse was its gaze. It had no eyes—yet it saw us. That awareness ran cold down my spine, like a bucket of ice. It opened its mouth. The voice seeped from every inch of air, crawling straight into my skull:
"...Little insects. Still struggling?"
Aelwyn's incantation struck almost at the same instant.
Light burst from her palms—gold and fierce, like shattered sunlight. But the moment it touched the black mist, it hissed once and died, swallowed whole.
Her face drained of color. Blood slid from the corner of her mouth, yet she held her stance, cursing under her breath.
Then—the wind stopped.
Laughter came from all directions. Cold. Blurred. Like countless mouths speaking in the same breath.
Kaen's roar cut through it—splitting the air like a blade.
He charged, shield raised, stones cracking beneath his boots. Dust slammed into my face, stinging my eyes raw. The great shield met the tide of black flame, and the air itself gave a muffled roar. Fire crashed against iron, red light spilling like blood. The heat rolled toward us—scalding, suffocating. The air reeked of scorched iron and blood—salt and metal thick enough to taste.
Kaen staggered half a step, then steadied himself—rooted like an iron nail in the storm. Sweat slid from his jaw, hit the ground with a sharp tap.
I caught that scent—salt and dust—and thought,
He's our last wall.
Lilia breathed slow, her bow steady as sculpture. The string trembled, then sang—a shrill hum that cut the air. Before I could even shout the order, the arrow was gone—so fast it left no sound.
The Demon Lord's chest burst open with a wet splatter. Black blood gushed out, and from it rolled eyes—wet, pulsing eyes—hundreds of them, all blinking.
My stomach lurched. I almost threw up. But the eyes dissolved back into the wound with a slick snap, as if nothing had happened—only the stench remained, thick and rotten.
> "It's useless!" Aelwyn's voice cracked. The sigil on her hand still shone, but the gold was fading fast. "It's feeding—on our magic! Even heat—he's eating it!"
"Then we feed him less," I muttered, drawing my sword.
The hunter's mark flared, and pain surged up my arm—fire crawling through my veins. The blade ignited white. Heat pulsed from the metal, hissing against the cold air. I clenched my teeth and broke forward, passing Kaen's shadow, bringing the sword down in a single swing.
Light exploded—too bright to see. My eardrums tore from the blast. The Demon Lord's chest split open; black fire poured out, the ground trembling beneath us. The smell—iron, blood, ash—thick enough to choke.
"Aris—!"
Lilia's shout shattered in the wind.
Then the impact hit.
A blow like a hammer to the chest—my body flung backward, crashing into a broken pillar. Pain cracked through my ribs. Blood filled my mouth, metallic and warm. I saw the sky tearing wider above, light spilling through. Dust fell on my face, cold as rain. And for a heartbeat, I knew—
This storm isn't turning back.
I lay there, chest pinned, every breath scraping like stone. Dust settled over me, cold and damp, mixing with sweat and blood. Aelwyn ran toward me through the gray haze—her whole body glowing faintly, like the last candle in a storm. Gold spilled from her palms, brushing my wounds. It burned—and yet it soothed.
"Healing field—open."
Her hands pressed together; the runes flared with a low hum. Warmth crawled across my chest, dulling the pain. The air filled with the faint scent of burnt flowers. But before the light could mend me, the Demon Lord's mist recoiled—snapping back like a serpent in sunlight.
"Aelwyn, break the link!" Derran's shout tore through the storm.
She clenched her teeth, veins rising along her temple, sweat cutting through the dirt on her face.
"Just—two more seconds… I can hold it—"
The gold and the black clashed—shhhk!—the explosion shook the air. Heat roared over us. Aelwyn staggered, coughed blood; it hit the ground and turned to smoke. Sweet, metallic, nauseating.
>"Aelwyn!"
Derran rushed to her, caught her before she fell. His hands shook uncontrollably.
Her face was white as chalk. Black blood leaked from her lips. Veins crawled up her wrist—thin, dark lines like worms burrowing toward her heart. The air turned sticky, cold.
"A demon's mark! Cut it off!" Derran's voice cracked.
She shook her head weakly. "Can't… If I break it—Aris dies."
"Then let him die! Don't—"
His voice failed, breaking into a plea. "…please."
She smiled faintly, blood tugging at her lips. "I'm not afraid. If we all fall—humanity ends. Let me… burn it through."
A ringing filled my head. I remembered the first time I saw her light—standing by a shattered window, sunlight falling through dust. She had smiled and said:
"Captain, if faith ever breaks—I'll be the lamp."
That memory lodged deep in my chest like a blade.
I forced myself up, knees sinking into broken stone. Pain blurred everything. "I'm fine… keep going."
Kaen turned, eyes red. "Aris—I'll hold him. You finish it."
He raised the shield again; black flame wrapped around it, sizzling.
Lilia's hands bled where the string had cut deep, yet her arrows never stopped.
Derran roared, driving his spear into the Demon Lord's gut—the backlash flung him away, armor shattering.
"Clear the line!" I shouted, channeling everything into the blade. Silver light tore through the air. The rift froze mid-collapse. My sword fell—cutting deep into the Demon Lord's chest. The wound split open, black mist flooding outward—then reversing, surging toward Aelwyn.
The gold went out in a hiss.
She was swallowed whole.
"No—!"
I leapt forward, but Kaen caught me. "Don't touch it!"
The mist thinned.
She was still standing.
Her skin pale, veins crawling with black. Her eyes—empty hollows.
"It's… cold," she whispered.
The wind died. Dust hung in the air, weightless.
Lilia murmured, voice trembling, "Is she… awake?"
Kaen's tone was gravel. "No. That's not her anymore."
I watched the light inside her fade, one flicker at a time. My throat burned dry.
She had wielded faith as a sword—and now, faith itself had devoured her. My hand shook so badly the blade nearly slipped.
"She's turning," I said hoarsely. "If we leave her—she'll become one of them."
I stepped forward, sword in hand.
Lilia's arrow dropped to the ground. "What are you doing?"
"Setting her free."
"Aris! She's one of us!"
"I know."
The sword rose. The mark on my hand burned white-hot. Dust swirled in the dead wind as I stepped closer.
She looked up at me. For a moment—just a moment—her eyes cleared.
Her lips moved softly.
"Captain… thank you."
The blade fell.
No sound. No blood.
Only gold fragments—tiny, weightless—spiraled around me, sinking into the sword, into the mark on my arm. The warmth lingered, faint and human.
I swallowed the taste of ash.
That heat in my hand reminded me—
This was only the beginning.
Kane lowered his shield, slow and heavy, his whole body wrapped in ash and ember—like a shadow walking out of flame. The sound he made was deep, like stone dropping into the earth. His breath came harsh and uneven; sweat and soot traced faint lines down his face. The air stank of scorched iron, blood boiling somewhere unseen. Heat still lingered in my chest, as if Elwyn's warmth hadn't faded. For a moment, I couldn't tell if I was still alive.
Lilia knelt in the dust. Both her knees were scraped raw. She still held her arrow, her fingertips stiff with dried blood. Her eyes were red and swollen, smoke-stung, fixed on the ground without blinking. Her breath was so soft it almost sounded like a sigh. The wind brushed her hair, lifting a drift of ash that floated, silver-gray, through the dim light.
Derran's voice came low, almost lost to the wind.
"…What now?"
He looked up at me. In his eyes there was only a kind of hollow stillness—like the bottom of a well, too deep to see.
We thought the Demon Emperor was dead.
For a few seconds, the wind went still; only ash drifted, and the scent of blood hung heavy.
Then the corpse moved.
Not a trick of the eye—the flesh that fire had eaten began to swell, black liquid bubbling beneath the skin with a wet, sick sound. The ground trembled. The air itself seemed to pulse. I felt it through my boots, like a second heartbeat.
Kane charged first, voice breaking into a growl.
"Fall back—it's still alive!"
In that instant, everything froze.
The cold rose from the ground like something breathing beneath us.
Then—black fire burst open.
Light and heat tore through the air. Bone and ash scattered, flesh twisted in the blaze. The stench—like death set alight again and again—filled the sky.
And then came the laughter.
Broken. Piercing. Inhuman.
"You… will all become my puppets."
Ash and blood turned to mud. The sky collapsed inward; cracks spread like veins, swallowing what little light remained. When our eyes met, I think we both knew—it was only beginning.
The black flame erupted again. Air vanished in a single breath. The runes shattered into dust. Kane was thrown like a doll, crashing into the stone wall. His shield split in two with a sound like cracking bone. Metal and blood hung together in the air, leaving that sickly-sweet scent of things burned too long.
The world stood still for three heartbeats.
Dust hung in midair like frozen smoke.
Kane lay face-down among the rubble, blood dripping from his mouth, darkening the ground beneath him. Even the wind dared not move.
Derran's breath came ragged. His spear dug into the earth, tip trembling, red-stained. Beneath his boots, something gurgled—a whisper of shattered souls.
Lilia knelt again, drawing her bow. Her hands trembled, but the string held steady. Firelight bled across her eyes.
"We still have to stop it," she whispered.
"Bet our lives on that?" Derran rasped. His voice cracked.
She didn't turn. A tear slid down her cheek, gray with ash.
"…That's all we have left."
The air thickened—dense, heavy, like fog made of blood. The wind turned sluggish, sticky, as if blowing out of a corpse. The Demon Emperor's laughter rose again from beneath the earth, sharp as splinters.
"Heh… you are all mine."
He raised his hand—a claw of flesh and sinew.
The fingers clenched. The ground groaned.
And from below came the crying—children, women—too many to count. Blood-red chains burst from the dirt, dragging with them clusters of lost souls. They twisted, clawed, reaching for us. Cold fingers brushed my face, leaving a smear of rot and damp.
"Fall back! To higher ground!"
I shouted until my throat tore.
Derran swung his spear. Metal clanged—a chain snapped.
Black blood splattered his armor, sizzling. Dark veins crawled up his skin like poison.
"Shit—!" He roared and charged, driving his spear through the Demon Emperor's arm.
Black fire burst; the souls disintegrated into ash.
The severed limb hit the ground, writhing back into place—devouring itself to heal.
I raised my sword. The mark on my hand burned, heat cutting deep into flesh. Blood slid down the hilt, mixing with dust into a dull red. Kane lifted his broken shield in front of me, his voice hoarse, scraping like stone.
"Aris—don't lose it—!"
"The longer it feeds, the stronger it gets!" I shouted back.
"You'll die!"
"Better that—than live as a puppet."
I ran.
Wind slashed my face. Black fire tore open before me. The blade cut through the dark, driving straight into the pulsing core.
The flame didn't explode—it twisted.
Alive.
It coiled around my arm like something breathing, cold and wet. The chill pierced to the bone. Pain rattled my breath, teeth grinding, sword slipping against my palm.
In that moment, time broke.
Only the heartbeat remained—loud, unsteady, inside my skull.
Ash drifted down through the red light, carrying the smell of blood,A slow, silent fall.
The Hunter's Mark burned suddenly—searing, like a piece of iron pressed deep into flesh.
White light burst through my skull. For a heartbeat, I saw an endless black sea, its waves carrying countless human faces. They had no voices—only eyes, wide open, staring back.
Elwyn's smile flickered among them, brief as the edge of a dream.
I forgot to breathe. The vision shattered. I jerked my head, cold sweat sliding down my spine, salt stinging my eyes.
"Aris!!!"
Lilia's scream tore the air apart.
Arrows exploded against the black fire, sparks bursting and burning across her cheek. Her bowstring was slick with blood, fingers split open to the bone.
And still, she kept shooting.
Her hands were steady as if frozen in place.
Blood dripped to the ground, one drop at a time.
The moment the black flame loosened, I yanked my arm free. Something cracked—pain sharp enough to blur my sight.
The sword fell back into my grip.
Kane charged forward—armor split open, blood pouring from his left arm, bone gleaming through the smoke. His voice was a broken roar:
"Get back! I'll hold it!"
The heat hit like a wall. His tears and sweat merged into one bitter stream.
"Kane—no! You'll die!"
"So what?!" His voice was raw. "My old man told me to protect her—she lives!"
A magic circle flared beneath his feet. Golden sigils burned like fire. Blood spilled from his mouth as he screamed—
"Holy Lock Formation—Final Seal!"
White light erupted.
The blast swallowed the world.
Wind and soil crashed over me, the air thick with iron and blood.
When the light faded, half of Kane's body was gone.
His shield—shattered into dust.
Blood traced the ground like red threads.
Lilia knelt, her lips trembling, her eyes empty.
She whispered—barely sound at all:
"…Brother?"
The Demon Emperor's voice seeped from the cracks below, cold and broken:
"How touching… Who's next?"
Derran knelt in a pool of blood. His chest split open, black veins crawling up his neck. He laughed—a dry, sand-thin sound.
"This fight… feels like a dream."
He looked at me then, hollow eyes lit with one last trace of will.
"Aris… kill me. While I'm still me."
He raised his spear across his chest.
Blood ran down the shaft, each drop sharp in the silence.
"Don't let me turn into that thing."
When he finished, he spat blood. It hit my boot and spread red.
My hand trembled as I raised the sword.
When the blade fell, his smile was still there—like he was saying thank you.
Derran's body was still warm.
His blood clung to my boots, sticky, thick, reeking of salt and rust.
The smell was so heavy I almost gagged.
The ground shuddered—still alive, still beating.
Black fire surged from the cracks, heat twisting the air.
Ash struck my face, tasting of blood and iron.
Lilia's hand caught mine—cold as water. Her voice broke, trembling:
"Aris… what do we do?"
I looked up at the collapsing sky. My mouth filled with bitterness.
"We're not getting out of this."
She pressed her back against mine.
Our breaths tangled, uneven.
The wind carried the scent of burnt flesh.
That thing was still moving—patching itself together from what it had devoured: Kane's arm, Derran's wounds, fragments of the dead.
Lilia's hand shook.
The black veins crept higher up her arm, reaching for her shoulder, pulsing like liquid poison.
She tried to wipe them off, but pain tore through the effort.
"No… I—"
"Lilia!"
I grabbed her shoulder hard.
She gasped, tears striking my face.
"Look at me!"
Her pupils darkened, the last trace of light fading away.
"Captain… I can't see."
Her lips moved, forcing a smile—uglier than crying.
"Kill me… before I turn."
I could hear my own breath.
The wind was gone. Only the heartbeat remained.
I held her close. The sword trembled between us, its heat blistering my palm.
"I'm sorry."
The blade slid in.
Her breath escaped—a soft, fading sigh.
"Thanks… I'll go find my brother first."
Her body grew lighter in my arms. Blood slid down the blade, shimmering faintly before seeping into my chest.
My heart burned—it felt like a forge set alight.
The Demon Emperor's footsteps drew closer.
The stench rolled with the wind, thick and rotten. He laughed.
"So it's just you now. Lonely, isn't it?"
I laughed back, the taste of blood heavy on my tongue.
Light burst within me.
The mark flared—my veins turned to fire.
Elwyn's warmth. Kane's shield. Derran's spear. Lilia's blood.
All of it ignited inside me, one single burning line.
"Come on, then."
I swung.
The sword shattered—light exploded.
I smiled. "The ending—belongs to me."
The light devoured everything, including me.
It broke apart—falling like a rain of glass, a storm of shards slashing my face.
I was still laughing as I fell.
Wind howled past my ears, and the smell of blood faded into the dark.
My chest felt hollow, carved out.
The heartbeat grew distant.
The mark beneath my skin flickered once—then went silent.
"The demons… aren't all dead."
My voice was barely sound—iron and blood clogging my throat.
"The ones we should've saved… none of them made it."
Darkness slammed shut.
No wind. No light.
The world sealed itself—like the lid of a colossal coffin.
---
Chronicle Fragment: The Night of the End
That night, the ruins of the Holy City burned white.
The sky split apart.
The world was devoured.
Five heroes—and the Demon Emperor—fell together into the abyss.
No one returned.
No one knew the truth.
---
Seven years later.
The wastelands still whispered when the wind crossed the old battlefield.
The ground was scorched black, stones still pulsing with a faint, dying glow.
At the edge of a cliffside cave, a serpent-born woman lay motionless.
Beneath her, the dust hid the traces of forgotten wounds.
In her palm—
the Hunter's Mark glowed faintly, like a code—
quietly breathing,in a world long dead.
——End of Chapter One