The Hell Gate
An event where space itself was torn asunder, spilling demons into the world, was known as the opening of the Hell Gate.
Demonkind: cruel, merciless, and utterly unforgiving—beings whose very existence brought terror to humankind.
How devastating would it be to unleash such monsters—far more formidable than ordinary beasts—upon the world in waves, unchecked and unrelenting?
When the first Hell Gate appeared, it felt like the beginning of the end. Nothing in recorded history had even approached the scale of this disaster. Entire towns and regions fell into despair.
Fortune smiled, however, in the form of an unexpected discovery: demons were weak against martial artists. United by necessity, the greatest warriors across the Martial Alliance banded together, combining their skills to confront the infernal threat.
Over the years, demon numbers waned. Though the scars on the world remained, hope began to return. Demons could, indeed, be defeated.
But the Gates themselves never truly vanished.
New Gates continued to appear, one after another. Martial artists eventually observed a curious trait: most Gates closed on their own after releasing a finite number of demons.
Thus, a generation of swordsmen took on the solemn duty of monitoring the Gates—an unending responsibility spanning centuries.
One clan entrusted with this task was the Fireheart clan, known as the Sentinels of Emberhold.
Yet a significant challenge persisted: demons were not merely dangerous—they were ruthless. Wherever they roamed, destruction followed. Towns that lingered too close to a Hell Gate often suffered devastating casualties, with no living creature spared from the carnage.
In more recent times, however, humanity had adapted. Preparedness and education had reduced the severity of ordinary Gates.
Still, once each season, a Hell Gate would appear far larger than usual.
This True Gate of Demons released monsters far stronger than their typical brethren, earning its ominous title and a fear that lingered in the hearts of all who knew of it.
At the scene of one such Gate, the head of the Fireheart clan now stood, finally having completed the sealing ritual as the sun dipped below the horizon.
The ceremony arranged in his honor was intended to be modest, but the gathering included all blood relatives in the district, making it anything but small.
The first voice to break the silence was Loret Fireheart himself, the clan head.
"I heard about the achievement."
His words came abruptly, with no preamble.
The eldest child, Rias Fireheart, was already serving in the Fireheart army, steadily accumulating accomplishments. The youngest child, meanwhile, was absent from the district.
Clearly, Loret's statement was not directed at either of them.
That left only one possible target: me.
"Yes, I've reached the 3rd rank thanks to slight enlightenment," Mio Fireheart replied, smiling. Her tone was polite, measured, a stark contrast to the frosty expression she had worn toward me earlier.
"You are progressing fast for your age. It's good to see. Keep it up," Father said approvingly.
"Thank you, Father," she replied with a bow.
Our eyes met as she turned away. The radiant smile faded quickly, replaced by a subtle frown, as though she were inspecting some insignificant insect.
Mio was fifteen years old, and to have achieved such a level at her age spoke volumes of her talent and diligence.
I could not deny the admiration I felt—but the oppressive tension in the air made my stomach twist uneasily.
'I should take that digestive medicine I got earlier,' I thought, feeling the unease in my gut.
One comfort remained: unlike my previous life, I could still eat. I reached for a steam pocket, drawn by the sheer abundance of food piled on the table. The offerings seemed enough to bend the legs of the table under their weight.
"Third child."
The single word froze me in place. My hand paused over the food.
"Yes," I answered, setting the steam pocket back down.
Unlike his compliment to Mio, Father's words carried no warmth. He merely regarded me, eyes sharp and unreadable.
Was this just coincidence?
"I heard that you were out."
"Pardon?"
Out? Was he referring to my excursion before his return?
Loret Fireheart's gaze bore into me, waiting. I struggled to find the right response—one that would neither provoke nor displease.
"Yes, I went out for a little while," I said cautiously, careful not to mention Isabella. That, I knew, would be my only real trouble.
"Hm."
His brief response was ambiguous, leaving me uncertain. Had he meant to say more? I didn't press. Loret rarely lingered on matters unnecessarily.
The somber dinner dragged on under the weight of unspoken tension. Every glance from the assembled relatives chipped away at my appetite.
Eventually, Father departed, and not long after, Mio left as well, casting a last scrutinizing glance my way.
I contemplated finishing the remaining steam pockets, but with a sigh, I set my chopsticks down. The first family dinner I'd shared in years had ended quietly, uneventfully, but heavy with silent judgment.
I took the digestive medicine I had prepared, mixing it into warm water. A sense of relief slowly spread through my stomach.
Perhaps I could finally rest for the day.
'Oh… Father told me to come to his room afterward,' I recalled.
I wondered why. He had called me here so many times in the past for trivial mischief that I could hardly guess the reason this time.
Steeling myself, I resolved to go, expecting yet another reprimand.
Just as I had finished preparing mentally:
"Young master, the Lord left a message for you: 'You don't need to come to my room.'"
Kevin left immediately after delivering the note.
I was left alone at the dinner table, staring at the untouched steam pockets, bewildered, a dumbfounded expression fixed on my face.
Seriously… what is going on?