The morning after the Council of Shadow Lords departed, the Dark Citadel was vibrating. Not from magic, but from the sheer volume of Lilith's voice echoing through the corridors.
"A HOLE!" Lilith shrieked, standing in the middle of the Throne Room, pointing at the sky visible through the shattered ceiling. "A LITERAL HOLE IN THE ROOF! DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH OBSIDIAN SHINGLES COST IN THIS ECONOMY?!"
Valdred sat on his throne, looking unusually small. He had his helmet on, perhaps hoping it would shield him from the sonic assault of his secretary.
Elara stood beside him, holding Val-Jr the bat plushie in front of her face like a shield.
"It was a necessary battle," Valdred rumbled, though his voice lacked its usual thunder. "We defended the honor of the West."
"You threw a human at a Lich!" Lilith threw her clipboard on the ground. "And you!" She pointed at Elara. "You used a high-grade Slime as a projectile! Do you know how hard it is to get slime stains out of velvet robes?"
"It was a tactical decision?" Elara offered meekly.
Lilith took a deep breath. She massaged her temples. Her eyes twitched.
"I cannot look at you two right now," Lilith hissed. "I need to call the contractors. I need to balance the budget. I need you both... gone."
"Gone?" Valdred perked up. "Exiled?"
"No! Just... out of my hair!" Lilith waved her hand toward the door. "Go somewhere! Go train for this ridiculous tournament! Just do not be here when the goblins arrive with the scaffolding, or I will bury you in the cement mix!"
Valdred and Elara exchanged a look.
"Well," Elara whispered. "You heard the lady. Time for a road trip."
The Destination
"Where are we going?" Elara asked an hour later.
They were standing in the Citadel's carriage bay. Valdred was loading a massive iron trunk onto the back of a black carriage drawn by Nightmare Horses (horses with flaming manes and bad attitudes).
"If we are to prepare for the Trial of the Black Sun," Valdred said, tightening a strap, "we need an environment that tests our endurance. A place where the elements themselves are hostile. A place of crushing pressure and treacherous footing."
"So..." Elara guessed. "The Swamp of Eternal Stench?"
"No," Valdred turned, adjusting his sunglasses. "The Sea of Lost Souls."
Elara's jaw dropped. "The beach? We're going to the beach?"
"It is not a beach," Valdred corrected sternly. "It is a coastal training facility. The sand is made of pulverized bones. The water is acidic. The seagulls are carnivorous. It is perfect."
"Right," Elara grinned, hopping into the carriage. "Coastal training facility. I'll pack the beach ball."
The Sea of Lost Souls
The journey took four hours by Nightmare Carriage. The landscape shifted from the jagged peaks of the Citadel to a flat, gloomy coastline.
The Sea of Lost Souls was beautiful, in a goth sort of way. The ocean was a deep, bruising purple. The waves crashed against the shore with a sound like weeping ghosts. The sand was indeed white, but upon closer inspection, it was just very fine bone dust. The sky was a perpetual twilight violet.
Valdred stopped the carriage near a jagged cliff overlooking the water. There was a small, ominous shack nearby with a sign that read: "DANGER: NO SWIMMING (UNLESS YOU ARE IMMORTAL)."
"We have arrived," Valdred announced.
He stepped out of the carriage. He was wearing his full black plate armor.
"Valdred," Elara said, stepping out behind him. She was carrying a tote bag that said 'Live, Laugh, Loot'. "You are not training in armor."
"Armor provides resistance," Valdred argued. "If I can swim in this, I can fight anywhere."
"If you swim in that, you will sink like a rock and I will have to fish you out," Elara deadpanned. "Go get changed. I got you something."
She tossed him a bundle of fabric.
Valdred caught it. He looked at it suspiciously. "What is this?"
"Swim trunks. Demon Lord edition."
The Outfit Reveal
Ten minutes later, Valdred emerged from the ominous shack.
He felt naked.
He was not wearing armor. He was not wearing a trench coat. He was wearing black swim trunks with a pattern of small red skulls on them.
His physique was... impressive. Centuries of swinging a giant sword had given him muscles that looked like they were carved from granite. Scar tissue crisscrossed his chest and arms—souvenirs from heroes past. His skin was pale gray, contrasting sharply with the dark water behind him.
He crossed his arms self-consciously. "This is undignified. A Demon Lord should not expose his midriff."
"You look fine, Boss," a voice called out.
Valdred looked up.
Elara was waiting by the water. She had shed her uniform. She was wearing a black two-piece swimsuit with a sarong tied around her waist. She wore a wide-brimmed sun hat (black, obviously) and her signature glasses.
"In fact," Elara pulled her glasses down her nose to look at him properly. "My Validation Gauge just spiked. You've been hiding those abs under plate mail all this time? Selfish."
Valdred turned a shade of purple that matched the ocean.
"It is... functional musculature," he muttered, walking stiffly toward her. "For crushing enemies."
"Sure, sure," Elara laughed. She kicked off her sandals, her toes sinking into the bone-sand. "So, what's the plan, Coach? Sprints? Meditation?"
"We start with acclimation," Valdred said, regaining his composure. "The water of this sea drains mana upon contact. We must learn to maintain our reserves while submerged."
"Mana draining water?" Elara looked at the purple waves. "Sounds tingly. Last one in is a rotten zombie!"
She took off running.
"Elara, wait!" Valdred shouted. "Do not run! There are Sand-Crabs!"
Elara didn't listen. She splashed into the surf.
"Cold! It's cold!" she shrieked, laughing as a wave hit her.
Valdred watched her. The gloomy, terrifying beach suddenly seemed... brighter. He sighed, shook his head, and marched into the water with the grim determination of a man invading a kingdom.
Training Exercise 1: The Buoyancy of Evil
"Okay," Elara chattered, her teeth clicking slightly. The water was indeed freezing. "So we just... stand here?"
They were chest-deep in the purple swells. Valdred stood like a lighthouse, unmoving as waves broke against his chest.
"Focus your core," Valdred instructed. "Feel the mana leaving your pores. Visualize a barrier. Seal it."
Elara closed her eyes. She concentrated. A faint violet aura flickered around her skin, pushing back the water's draining effect.
"Good," Valdred nodded. "Now, we spar."
"Here?" Elara opened one eye. "In the water?"
"The resistance will improve your speed. Attack me."
Elara grinned. She splashed a wave of water into his face.
Valdred didn't blink. The water dripped off his nose. "That was not an attack. That was an annoyance."
"Oh yeah?" Elara formed a seal with her wet hands. "Water Magic: Hydro-Slap!"
A hand made of water rose up and slapped Valdred on the shoulder. It didn't hurt, but it pushed him back a step.
"Better," Valdred smirked. He moved.
Despite the water, he was fast. He lunged, creating a tidal wave with his motion. Elara yelped and tried to dodge, but the water drag slowed her down.
Valdred caught her wrist.
"Got you," he said.
"Did you?" Elara countered. "Lightning Magic: Zap!"
She channeled a tiny jolt of electricity through her own skin into his hand.
"Gah!" Valdred let go, jumping back. "You electrocuted the water! That is dangerous! We could fry all the fish!"
"There are no fish!" Elara laughed, floating on her back. "Only lost souls! And they're already dead!"
Valdred rubbed his hand. He looked at her floating there, looking at the violet sky.
"You are reckless," he said, but there was no anger in his voice.
"And you're stiff," she teased, splashing her feet. "You need to flow, Valdred. Be like the water. Or... be like the slime. Be like Jelly."
"I refuse to be like Jelly."
Training Exercise 2: The Kraken's Game
An hour later, they were interrupted.
The ground shook. The water began to bubble.
"Is that a jacuzzi jet?" Elara asked.
"No," Valdred narrowed his eyes. "Something is rising."
A massive tentacle, thick as a tree trunk and covered in barnacles, rose from the deep. Then another. Then a giant, bulbous head with one singular, massive eye surfaced.
It was the Kraken.
It stared at them. It blinked.
"Oh!" Elara waved. "It's Mr. Kraken! From the Citadel moat! Did he follow us?"
The Kraken roared—a sound like a foghorn gargling rocks. It reached into the water and pulled out... a massive, rusted ship anchor.
It threw the anchor.
The anchor flew through the air and landed with a massive SPLASH about fifty yards away.
The Kraken looked at Valdred. It waved a tentacle toward the anchor. Then it looked back at Valdred.
"I believe..." Valdred stared at the monster. "I believe it wants to play Fetch."
"Well?" Elara nudged him. "Go get it, boy."
Valdred looked affronted. "I am the Demon Lord. I do not fetch."
The Kraken looked sad. Its giant eye drooped. It made a whimpering sound that shook the tectonic plates.
"Aww, look at him," Elara cooed. "He's sad. Valdred, go get the anchor. Consider it... strength training."
Valdred looked at the sad sea monster. He looked at Elara's expectant face.
He groaned.
"Fine. Tactical Retrieval Operation commencing."
Valdred dove.
He swam (a powerful, terrifying breaststroke) to the anchor. He grabbed the chain. The anchor weighed at least two tons.
Valdred roared, his muscles bulging as he heaved the anchor out of the seabed. He dragged it back through the water, creating a wake like a motorboat.
He threw the anchor back to the Kraken.
The Kraken caught it. It clapped its tentacles together happily.
Then it threw it again. Further this time.
"Again!" Elara cheered from the shore, where she was now building a sandcastle made of bone dust. "Work those glutes, Boss!"
Valdred spent the next two hours playing fetch with a legendary sea monster. By the time the Kraken finally got tired and sank back into the depths for a nap, Valdred was exhausted.
He trudged out of the water, water streaming off his muscles, chest heaving.
He collapsed onto the sand next to Elara.
"Status report," Elara smiled, handing him a bottle of water (or rather, black mana-water).
"I cannot feel my arms," Valdred wheezed. "And I think I pulled a hamstring."
"But look on the bright side," Elara pointed to his arm. "You got a tan."
Valdred looked. His gray skin was slightly darker gray.
"Hmph," he grunted, accepting the water. "Training... successful."
The Campfire Confession
Night fell over the Sea of Lost Souls. The purple water glowed with bioluminescent plankton.
Valdred and Elara sat by a fire made of driftwood. The fire burned with green flames (magic driftwood).
Elara was roasting a marshmallow on her wand. Valdred was sitting with a towel draped over his shoulders, staring into the flames.
"Hey, Val?" Elara broke the silence.
"Mn?"
"Why the mask?" she asked.
Valdred touched his face. "I am not wearing my helmet."
"No, I mean... the persona," Elara gestured with the marshmallow. "The whole 'I am the King of Cinders, I have no feelings, I meditate on pain' thing. I mean, I know you're a Demon Lord, but today... you played with a Kraken. You joked around. You felt... real."
Valdred was silent for a long time. He picked up a handful of bone dust and let it sift through his fingers.
"When I ascended to the throne," Valdred said quietly, "the realm was in chaos. The clans were fighting. The humans were invading every week. They didn't need a person. They needed a symbol."
He looked at the green fire.
"They needed something to fear. If I showed weakness—if I showed humor, or mercy, or fatigue—the wolves would circle. Grog, Malacor, Vex... they would have torn me apart centuries ago."
He turned to look at Elara. The firelight cast shadows across his sharp features.
"So I became the mask. I became the armor. I forgot where Valdred ended and the Demon Lord began."
Elara watched him. Her eyes were soft.
"And now?" she whispered.
"Now..." Valdred looked at her. He looked at her messy hair, her silly swimwear, the sand on her cheek. "Now there is a human in my castle who throws slimes at Liches and demands praise."
He let out a short, soft laugh.
"You are chipping away at the armor, Elara. And I find... it is lighter without it."
Elara smiled. It wasn't her usual teasing grin. It was a genuine, radiant smile that warmed the cold sea air.
"Good," she said. "Because I like the guy under the armor. He's pretty cool. Even if he is bad at swimming."
Valdred scoffed. "I am excellent at swimming. My density is simply superior."
"Sure, sure."
Elara shivered slightly. The sea breeze was picking up.
Valdred noticed. Without a word, he took the heavy towel from his shoulders and wrapped it around her.
"You will catch a cold," he muttered. "And then I will have to make soup again. And I do not have the ingredients."
Elara pulled the towel tight. It smelled like sea salt and... burnt cinnamon? (Valdred's natural scent).
"Thanks, Boss," she murmured.
She scooted closer to him until their shoulders were touching. Valdred didn't pull away. He rested his arm on his knee, shielding her from the wind.
"Three months," Valdred said, looking at the stars. "We have to be ready."
"We will be," Elara said confidently, leaning her head on his shoulder. "We have the ultimate combo. My brains, your brawn, and..."
"And?"
"And the power of Praise," she winked. "Don't forget the power of Praise."
"I am unlikely to forget," Valdred dryly replied. " considering you remind me every hour."
"It's a crucial mechanic!"
They sat there for a while longer, watching the green flames dance, listening to the ocean scream softly in the distance.
The Interruption (Comedy Beat)
Suddenly, a massive splash broke the peaceful atmosphere.
The Kraken resurfaced.
It was holding the anchor again.
It looked at Valdred. It waved the anchor. Squeak?
Valdred stood up abruptly.
"No!" Valdred shouted at the ocean. "Playtime is over! Go to sleep!"
The Kraken looked crushed. It lowered the anchor slowly.
"Oh, don't be mean!" Elara laughed, standing up. "Just one more throw!"
"I am not a dog!" Valdred protested. "I am the Sovereign of the West! I command armies of the undead!"
"Please?" Elara batted her eyelashes. "He loves you. Look at him."
Valdred looked at the monster. He looked at Elara.
He groaned so loud it echoed off the cliffs.
"One throw," Valdred growled. "But I am using magic this time."
He marched down to the water.
Elara watched him go, grinning. She pulled out her notebook from the tote bag.
*Entry 11:
Subject: Valdred.
Progress: High.
Weaknesses identified: Puppies, Kittens, Giant Sea Monsters, and Me.
Strategy for Tournament: Utilize his protective instincts. Also, teach him how to stretch before exercise.*
She closed the book.
"Go get 'em, Tiger!" she yelled.
"I AM A DEMON!" Valdred yelled back, before diving into the purple surf.
Three days later
They returned to the Citadel. And they were sunburnt (gray-burnt), sore, and smelling of brine.
They walked into the Throne Room. The roof was fixed. Lilith was standing there, tapping her foot.
"Well?" Lilith asked. "Did you train? Or did you just build sandcastles?"
Valdred stepped forward. He radiated a new kind of energy. It wasn't just dark menace. It was... relaxed confidence.
"We trained," Valdred said. "And we recruited."
"Recruited?" Lilith raised an eyebrow.
"Yes," Elara chirped, pointing out the window toward the moat.
Lilith looked.
In the moat, the original Kraken was now joined by a second, slightly larger Kraken. They were playing tug-of-war with a destroyed siege tower.
"He followed us home," Valdred explained with a shrug. "Can we keep him?"
Lilith dropped her clipboard.
"I quit," she whispered. "I literally quit."
"You can't quit," Valdred smiled—a real smile. "You haven't processed the travel expenses yet."
Lilith screamed.