There is a legend that has endured for a thousand years.
The world of that era was almost peaceful—at least for ordinary beings. The great clans, on the other hand, were always standing on the brink of conflict, burdened by too much pride and far too little patience.
It was during that time that the great Fairy Queen and the ruthless Demon King faced one another on the battlefield. They fought with equal strength for centuries, until the battle slowly transformed into something neither of them would ever openly admit—a growing fascination between two sworn enemies.
Yet that feeling never became a healthy form of love.
To the Demon King, the Fairy Queen was a beautiful being meant to submit to him.
To the Fairy Queen, he was nothing more than an enemy she could never fully defeat.
In the end, the Demon King emerged victorious, and the Fairy Queen fell, gravely wounded.
"I have won. You have lost. From this moment on, you will become my empress."
To the Fairy Queen, those words were not a confession of love—but an insult.
"Even if I die," she replied with what little breath she had left, "I will never willingly become your empress!"
Despite her repeated refusals, the Demon King paid no heed to her will. Five hundred years passed without warning—and the resentment remained.
The Fairy Queen's fury reached its peak when she realized she was carrying a child. A pregnancy she never desired devoured her spiritual energy day by day, weakening her body. She tried again and again to rid herself of the unborn child, but the demon blood bound to the infant rendered all her efforts meaningless.
When the child was finally born, the Fairy Queen—having lost most of her strength—cast the baby into the human world. When the Demon King learned of this, wrath consumed him. He swore to annihilate the Fairy Clan and drag the Fairy Queen back to his side.
War erupted once more.
The Demon King ordered his subordinates to slaughter the Fairy Clan. The Fairy Queen, knowing this, did not remain idle. In retaliation, she swore to sever the Demon King's head and hang it upon the Sacred Tree.
Yet her power was no longer what it once had been after enduring pregnancy and childbirth. The child she had carried continued to drain her spiritual energy—one of the many reasons she despised the baby so deeply.
Still, her desire for vengeance did not waver. The Fairy Queen invoked a forbidden spell to wipe out the Demon Clan and seal the core of the Demon King's soul. In the final moment, she shed tears filled with both sorrow and hatred.
But forbidden spells never come without consequence. As payment for the immense power she wielded, the Fairy Queen's mortal body was destroyed, and her soul was elevated—ascended as a Goddess.
Thus, the legend was sealed as a tale with a happy ending. The antagonist perished.
The protagonist ascended to the heavens.
***********
The thick book was slammed shut, followed by a long sigh.
"The more I read it, the more nauseating it becomes. Over a hundred years of rereading, and humanity's storytelling skills remain just as poor."
"Then why do you keep reading it?" The beautiful woman standing not far from him smiled in amusement. "Doesn't that simply mean you're curious about what truly happened five hundred years ago?"
The dark mist surrounding the figure upon the throne slowly faded. He rose, his steps arrogant and unhurried.
"I don't care what they write," he replied flatly. "I only wish to see how terrible human imagination becomes with each generation."
The woman laughed softly. "Our King keeps denying it. Humans are indeed terrible storytellers—how could history be written with such carelessness?"
A handsome man standing on the opposite side added calmly, "Regardless of all those versions of history, the fact that the Fairy Queen and the Demon King did not kill one another is what truly matters. And your existence is not a mistake, King."
"Enough," Morveth said dismissively. "You've said that thousands of times already."
He was Morveth—the unwanted child within that legend.
And the two beings standing beside him had become like parents to him, despite their youthful appearances, as though frozen in their mid-twenties while their true ages had long surpassed millennia. Aelira and Faelorin were fairies—the ones who had raised him since he was an infant.
To Morveth, their presence was vital to his life. That did not mean life itself felt meaningful.
He walked toward the castle balcony, gazing out over a darkness that never truly slept. Black towers stood tall like loyal sentinels. Patrols moved with flawless discipline. The world submitted without meaningful resistance.
"The western territory has stabilized once again," Faelorin reported, folding his hands behind his back. "Everything is secure."
Morveth snorted quietly. "As always."
Aelira narrowed her eyes as she approached him. "You sound disappointed."
"I'm simply tired of hearing the same report for hundreds of years," Morveth said, leaning against the balcony railing. "They fear me, obey me, then die. Over and over again. Even chaos has grown boring."
Faelorin chuckled lightly. "Many kings spend their entire lives striving to achieve such a state."
"And that's why they die satisfied," Morveth replied indifferently. "Unlike me."
Black wind stirred, reacting to his mood, but Morveth no longer paid it any attention. In the past, the smallest emotion could tear the sky apart. Now, even anger felt like a mere formality.
Aelira smiled gently. "King, the world does not always need to move quickly. Peace—"
"—is the most tedious form of stagnation," Morveth cut in without turning. "Legends endlessly speak of the Demon King's cruelty and the Fairy Queen's purity. But they never mention the most important thing."
"And what would that be?" Faelorin asked.
"That immortality is the longest punishment of all."
He turned back toward them, his gaze calm.
"Humans write tales of great wars and forbidden love," Morveth continued. "When in truth, all that remains once everything ends is time. Too much time."
Aelira and Faelorin exchanged glances, falling silent. They knew this was not a complaint—it was a statement of fact.
Morveth stepped away from the balcony. His black cloak brushed softly against the marble floor.
"If this world can no longer surprise me," he said casually, "then perhaps it is time I disturb it instead."
Before Morveth could return to his throne, the air within the castle trembled faintly.
Faelorin halted first, his easy smile fading. "King, he said quietly, "you feel it too, don't you?"
"Of course." Morveth exhaled softly. "It's been a long time since trouble like this appeared."
Aelira closed her eyes, her pointed ears twitching. "It's coming from the Mortalis border."
Morveth raised an eyebrow. "Mortalis?"
For the first time, he felt genuine surprise. Never before had humans actively sought trouble with him. In the past, merely hearing the title Dark King was enough to make them tremble. But now? It seemed humanity had changed.
Morveth's lips curved faintly.
He welcomed it.
"It appears humans are beginning to show curiosity toward Ashveil," Aelira added.
Morveth returned to his throne and sat lazily, crossing one leg over the other. Dark mist once again swirled around him—this time thin, like smoke lingering out of habit rather than necessity.
"Let them be. I want to see how far their curiosity will take them."
Faelorin nodded obediently. "As you wish, King."
Morveth rested his chin on one hand. For a moment, the entire chamber fell silent.
"Open the sight," he commanded.
The air before the throne split apart, forming a dark surface like liquid glass. Within it appeared Mortalis—a dull forest, a scorched circle of earth, and crude symbols drawn in blood that had yet to dry.
Morveth observed it with an indifferent gaze, his lips curving ever so slightly.
"The bravery of these humans is commendable."
Aelira hesitated. "Do you wish us to erase them?"
Normally, that would have been the correct answer. Cleanse them. Erase them. Restore balance.
But Morveth did not respond immediately.
He tilted his head slightly, as if peering beyond the ritual itself—into the intent behind it. Fear. Desperation. Morveth found himself curious about the human's purpose.
"Strange," he murmured. "Humans rarely go this far without reason."
Faelorin smiled faintly. "You're intrigued."
"Don't misunderstand," Morveth replied calmly. "I merely wish to see how far their foolishness has evolved."
He rose to his feet. The mist around him pulsed softly, responding to his will.
"Let the ritual finish."
Aelira flinched. "King—"
"I didn't say let it succeed," Morveth cut in. "I only wish to see what he is hoping for."
For the first time in hundreds of years, something in this world did not immediately fall under his control. And strangely enough, Morveth did not feel disturbed.
He felt… mildly entertained.
Morveth stepped down from the throne.
"I will go to the human. If his goal is to meet me, then I shall grant it."
Aelira and Faelorin bowed obediently, yet among the countless commands they had received over the centuries, this one felt different.
Morveth's Umbra trembled faintly. He sensed something within that human—something unfamiliar. He vanished into black mist and reappeared directly before the man drawing symbols upon the ground.
"Failed again? Why is this so difficult? Everything's useless. What a waste of those crystal stones I gave the demons. Wait—did they cheat me? Damn it!"
Morveth stood calmly, his entire body cloaked in Umbra. It seemed his presence had gone unnoticed. The human did not react at all—did he truly feel nothing from Morveth's Umbra? This was unusual. Normally, ordinary humans would collapse under the pressure of simply being near him. But this one appeared completely unaffected.
Morveth's eyes narrowed, probing deeper into the human's aura. He paused.
A dark crimson hue… thin, but unmistakable.
Umbra.
How was this possible? He had been certain the man was merely human.
"Are you a demon?" Morveth asked.
The man looked up, staring at the black mist before him. He seemed to think for a moment.
"Wow, smoke that can talk. Just like the rumors—Astral Forest really is full of strange creatures."
The man stood.
Morveth frowned. Though the man's face was smeared with mud, there was something oddly familiar about him. "Answer the question. Are you from the Demon Clan?"
The man shook his head and grinned broadly, looking utterly foolish. "Nope. I'm human. Oh, right—my name's Ravel. And who are you, O talking smoke?"
"There is no point lying before me. No human possesses Umbra," Morveth replied.
Ravel's eyes widened with excitement. "You can see my aura? Wow! I finally met someone who understands me!" He laughed. "I've met countless beings, but none of them could see my aura. They all thought I was human—but I'm clearly not ordinary. You know, next month I'll turn a hundred years old. Strange, right? A hundred years old, and I haven't aged at all."
"That would indeed be strange for a normal human."
Ravel's head lowered, his shoulders drooping. Morveth looked deeper—and only then did he realize it. Within Ravel's body was not only Umbra, but Aether as well. Both energies were thin, far weaker than his own. No wonder other beings failed to notice.
But how could this be? Had another demon secretly formed a bond with a fairy—again?
Ravel looked back up, eyes shining. Morveth found that gaze strangely irritating.
"So… you know where I come from?" Before Morveth could answer, Ravel continued, "Actually, I'm here looking for the Dark King. I think he knows the truth about my origins. I'm not sure myself—but among all the beings I've met, he's the only one I haven't visited."
Umbra rippled violently around Morveth—a sign of restrained anger.
The man was excessively talkative. Annoying.
"Who granted you such audacity?" Morveth asked coldly. "You dare seek the Dark King so confidently. Are you not afraid he might simply devour your soul?"
Ravel pondered the question. "I don't know. I don't really feel afraid. If he takes my soul, that's fine too. I don't have any regrets anyway."