The sky above Vakuroum Fortress was a muted gray, the clouds low and heavy. Above them, the vast magic circle carved into the heavens glowed brighter than usual, its runes sharpening as if stirred awake. Andreas noticed the change immediately. Even the sky here behaved like part of a machine. Every shift had meaning.
He stood alone in the training courtyard, the gray dust coating his bare feet. At ten years old his movements were precise to a degree far beyond the other trainees. The wooden dummy standing in the center of the yard was worn from weeks of practice. Cracks webbed across its surface like stress lines spreading through stone.
Andreas approached it. He took in distance, balance and structure with calm focus. Then he struck. The first blow shattered the dummy's lower arm. The second broke its torso. The third reduced it to splinters. His aura clung faintly to the spear in his hand, but he paid it no attention.
From the shadows near the courtyard wall some of the older trainees watched him. Their eyes held awe and something else that Andreas recognized as fear. He recorded the observation in his mind.
Weak, he thought. I should be training against something more suitable.
Only the crunch of wood beneath his feet and the steady rhythm of his breathing filled the courtyard. A servant stepped forward. The demon was an older one, assigned to oversee Andreas's drills. His skin was ashen, his horns worn with age.
"Lord Andreas, you should rest for a moment. The morning exercises will continue and the others would be glad to prepare the next practice set."
Andreas looked at him. His gaze held no anger and no softness. It simply assessed.
"I do not tire. Proceed."
The servant bowed quickly and retreated.
Andreas remained quiet for a moment, then turned away from the shattered dummy. His training for the morning was complete. The fortress awaited him.
He stepped into the nearest corridor. Vakuroum Fortress swallowed him in its vast, cold interior. It was shaped like a colossal angular ring, layers of stone corridors spiraling inward toward the Overlord's central hall. The outer walls rose taller than mountains and were forged from a black volcanic stone that devoured light. Even torchfire struggled to illuminate more than a few paces.
The air carried a metallic taste. The runes carved into the stone hummed with steady magical pressure. Every hallway felt measured and intentional. Not a single curved surface existed here. The fortress was angles, edges and weight.
He walked past rows of heavy pillars and narrow windows that revealed only slivers of the gray sky. The corridors forked sharply like interlocking gears in a machine.
Andreas knew every turn. Every alcove. Every crossing where sound died completely.
Footsteps echoed behind him. The butler approached. He was tall, elderly and moved with a precision that made Andreas think of an ancient clock. His eyes were an unnatural shade of blue that had dulled over centuries.
This demon has exceeded his lifespan, Andreas thought. Two hundred years should have been his limit. Yet he still walks.
The butler bowed.
"Young Master Andreas, the Overlord summons you to the central hall."
His tone carried no question.
Andreas nodded and followed him. As they walked deeper, the fortress revealed more of its shape. Corridors narrowed the closer they drew to the center. The walls grew denser with runes. Arcane lanterns flickered with controlled pulses of light.
Servants stepped aside when they saw Andreas. They lowered their heads not out of fear of cruelty but out of conditioned respect. He walked with them, observing details without attaching meaning to any of them.
They reached the central hall. The massive doors parted, revealing a chamber carved entirely from the same dark stone. At its heart stood the Overlord.
He sat upon the high dais. His presence filled the room like the pressure of a collapsing mountain. He was tall, broad shouldered and wrapped in simple black armor marked with faint crimson lines. His eyes glowed faintly.
Silence settled. Even the runes on the walls dimmed.
"Your training has progressed," the Overlord said. "But progress is only the beginning. Today you will face consequence, command and survival. A strong successor is required."
"Yes, Lord."
The Overlord turned his back. "Follow me."
Andreas walked behind him, his steps light and controlled. They moved through the fortress's core hallways cold stone, sharp geometry, oppressive mana pressing from every wall.
The Overlord's presence felt different than before. More distant. More withdrawn from the world he ruled.
'He spends less time at the front lines now,' Andreas thought. 'He returns early. Leaves quickly. As if something erodes him from within.'
Torches crackled. Runes pulsed. The fortress felt like the inside of a giant, sleepless engine.
When they reached the arena, the Overlord crossed to the far side, the stone floor groaning under his weight.
"We duel."
Andreas lowered his stance without hesitation.
He began the moment the Overlord finished speaking.
Frost surged from his hands crack! as glacier spikes erupted across the arena floor. Each one burst upward with a metallic , mist hissing violently around their edges.
Andreas dashed forward, spear tight beneath his arm. His lungs burned from the cold air, his boots scraping sharply across the stone.
The first spike lunged toward the Overlord like a rising fang. He stepped on it casually.
CRRRACK! The spike shattered under his heel, exploding into glittering shards.
Andreas thrust.
The Overlord leaned aside. The spear sliced empty air.
A heavy palm slammed into Andreas' chest.
THUD! "Argh !" His body skidded across the arena and crashed against the far wall. His ribs screamed. He swallowed the pain and slapped his palm onto the floor.
Water surged outward in a wide wave, not meant to harm but to soak the ground and mask his preparations. He needed steam to blind the Overlord, nothing more.
Andreas clenched his teeth, fingers trembling as he summoned flame. "Haa !" The fire ignited in his palm and he hurled it forward. The fireball struck the water with a sharp hiss! and erupted into a wall of thick steam.
Good. This is step one.
Hidden in the fog, Andreas prepared the real plan: the pit beneath the Overlord and the falling icicles meant to finish the fight in one decisive strike.
Hidden in the fog, Andreas steadied his breath.
This is the opening.
A single sound cut through the steam.
CLAP.
A shockwave blasted outward, ripping the fog apart in an instant.
The Overlord vanished from sight.
Andreas barely raised his spear before a massive hand seized it. The grip crushed down like iron. With a twist
THUD! "Guh !" Andreas was ripped from the ground and hurled across the arena. His shoulder smashed into stone; agony flared down his arm.
He forced himself up, breath trembling.
He is faster… stronger… this can't be won head‑on.
He thrust both hands upward. Air mana twisted violently as enormous icicles materialized above thick, jagged pillars that darkened the hall.
The Overlord frowned. "This will not work."
He moved. His footsteps didn't echo he was too fast for sound to catch him.
Andreas slammed both hands to the ground.
RUMBLE! The floor beneath the Overlord collapsed into a deep pit.
At the same time, Andreas released everything.
A torrent of water exploded from his hands WHOOOM! crashing into the Overlord's chest. It forced him back.
But only a single step.
The falling icicles slammed into the pit
CRASH!! the entire hall trembling under the impact.
Andreas collapsed onto one knee. His mana was gone. His breath shook.
The Overlord stepped through the dust cloud without a single mark on him.
"You lose."
He did not sound disappointed. He sounded certain. On the face of the Overlord there was an emotion Andreas couldn't discern.
That night Andreas lay on his bed, unable to sleep. The last expression on the Overlord's face kept replaying behind his eyes an image that refused to settle, refused to quiet. Every time he closed his lids, it returned, sharper than before.
The faint glow of the magic circles along his walls flickered with slow pulses, giving his room the illusion of breathing. Shadows expanded and shrank like lungs drawing air. Andreas watched them in silence.
He turned on his back and let his thoughts drift inward. He had no mother. No friends. There was no one in his life who existed outside duty or structure. He had been born for a purpose, shaped for it, confined by it. If there was something beyond that purpose, he had never been taught to see it.
The idea lingered, stretching thin threads through his mind.
Loneliness pressed at him, but he classified it rather than felt it.
What happens when the one who shaped me is gone?
He did not know the answer.
Not yet.
He would find it when he woke.
The next morning the fortress trembled. Dust fell from the ceiling. Shouts erupted in the corridors. Servants ran with no order. Soldiers barked confused commands.
For the first time in his life the machine he lived inside was failing.
Andreas looked through his window at the central dais.
The Overlord lay motionless on the stone floor. A dark stain spread beneath him.
Silence swallowed the fortress.
Then chaos.
Andreas stood still.
The Overlord was dead.
A part of the fortress had collapsed.
A part of Andreas's world had opened into a void.
He had been trained for every scenario except this one.