Lutiel was never particularly lucky. In fact, he always felt as though the world had gone out of its ways to make his experiences as miserable as possible. Always at the bottom of the ladder, surrounded by blinding lights that stole any shine he possessed, his existence wasn’t one many would opt for as a second chance.


    Nonetheless, he wasn’t one to complain. Whatever had been thrown at him, he was fine with, even if a meteor came ravaging through his hometown.


    Still, despite always being content with his circumstances, he had to admit, right now was by far the most despondent moment in his entire life.


    “I told you not to come, you pricks,” muttering to himself, Lutiel pulled on the chains connected to the wall behind him.


    Futile. They were too tight whilst having strained his body for far too long to even make him recall the day all of this happened. Kneeling on the rough, acrid ground of the cell he was kept inside, something threatened to break out from the eye slits of the metallic helmet on his head.


    However, fighting with it, he moved his head around, being the only part of his virtually and figuratively rotting body that wasn’t shackled.


    Gazing through the narrow apertures with a gradually swelling throat, he tried to distract himself with the skulls and bones scattered across the dark space.


    Yet, as he watched the scenes beyond the cell with glowing eyes, tears couldn’t help but go out by themselves, his lips quivering about.


    “What the hell are you doing!?”


    The meek voice roared through the dark space, but it could amount to a measly nothing. Only his throat started to rupture itself from being strained so much, so abruptly.


    “Please,” he mumbled in between the ugly sobs reverberating through the place, however, there was nobody there. “Please, stop it.” Not a single soul to listen to his woes, no matter how hard he willed it.


    Even though they were so close, standing only a couple layers above him, through the lens of his eyes, it seemed as though they were infinitely many times apart from each other.


    No matter how hard it was, he kept on watching the party that came together with a small army behind their backs. Soon, he heard the voice of the man he wanted to see the least.


    “Where is he?” With poised eyes and a straight face, it looked like nothing could sway the long, platinum hairs and the upright frame he possessed.


    Standing in a silvery, light-blue armor blending in with his hairs, his sword was already unsheathed, hungry for blood.


    So were the trio standing around him.


    A shield, a bow, and a dagger, that was the best description for the imposing figures, each exuding a presence far beyond that of the battalion of knights and archers standing behind them.


    All of them, including the sword standing in the group’s center, composed of humanity’s strongest, stared directly at the existence sitting on the throne inside the castle’s ruins.


    The horns that curled around his head covered the eyes, but to the people gathered around, the unemotional, moving mouth felt even more horrendous. Never knowing its true intentions, the tall body covered in dark scales almost seemed to seep out with some sort of energy, black to its very core, swallowing any sort of illumination.


    Simply standing near the dingy, ethereal fumes made the hairs at the back of their necks stand. Immediately, they wished to go away from this place, to have never come to the demon lord before them in the first place.


    “It’s an honor to finally meet you, Raphael. I have never expected the heroes to barge straight into my den.”


    “We wouldn’t have if you hadn’t stolen one of our party members.”


    “Aren’t you well equipped already? What’s the matter if one pawn out of a hundred more disappears?” Pointing at the army of armored knights behind the hero, his sharp claw made countless plates clutter from the shivers. However, they didn’t listen to the blatant provocation, staying in place. They were here to kill the demon, after all.


    In their place, Raphael thrust his long, white blade. Finally, the unfaltering hairs moved, illuminated with a soft glow under the moon.


    “Cut the crap, Magon. Tell me where you hid him if you don’t want those horns stuck in your heart,” he barked while pointing the sword right at the white face of the demon lord.


    And, much to his expectation, the monster simply smiled, baring its black teeth.


    “I would like to see you try. Do you think you can do it?” Asking the question, some of the black energy surged around him harsher than before, making a major part of the knights kneel to him. Struggling to hold themselves up under the pressure his being emanated, blood started to smear itself around their guts, quickly escaping through the mouth down onto the floor.


    Looking at the knights with a closed mouth, the demon lord still voiced his acknowledgement for the party of four heroes.


    “Good job. Especially you, sword hero, can you see that angry look on your face? I wouldn’t want any other reaction out of you,” the demon spoke with a grinning face.


    “Tell. me. where. you. hid. him.” Through gritted teeth, words escaped Raphael’s clenched jaw while the other heroes started gradually moving their bodies.


    After a while, the energy finally receded, making the knights stand back to their positions, despite the horrors filling up their mortal hearts.


    “I don’t want to.”


    Magon stopped smiling, the previous, blank expression coming back. Waves of the dark energy spread out without halting, pulsing out of the cracks around his body. More blood than ever churned out of the knights’ mouths as they fell to their stomachs, crumbling under the excessive prowess.


    Just when it looked like the heroes were about to fall as well, however, they all raised their right hand, where each of them held a certain mark.


    Right above their wrists, on the back of their hands, the marks glowed despite there being armors. Piercing through, all four of the hero glyphs announced themselves to the world. In unison, an almost invisible wall made itself up, protecting both the bearers, as well as those beyond them.


    For the second time already, the knights raised themselves up. Their fighting spirit was ignited anew, lit through and by the heroes.


    In front of the formation, the brawny hero stood with his heater shield that towered over him. With the bright, gleaming red gem in the middle of the iron shield, he easily covered all of his body, as well as partially the one that stood directly behind him, the hero of the sword.


    “I never thought you would,” Raphael uttered with a glare while placing both of his hands on the sword’s handle, the glyph’s power practically oozing onto the cold blade under the night’s veil. With a light glow reminiscent of his hair, the man took on his stance, along with the two heroes right at his back and numerous knights.


    Hundreds of swords and tens of bows and crossbows raised themselves, aiming at the single entity starting to stand up from his imposed seat.


    Their heights barely reaching his waist, the monster’s frame was more than enough to bring them nightmares. Coupled with the dark, rigid, and protruding scales filled with the energy, they only wished it would end quickly.


    Two black fires spread around the lord’s horns as he brought his right arm out to the side of the throne, a wide and long blade filled with imperfections raising itself from the ground.


    Holding onto the greatsword with a purple eye on the blade’s very bottom in the center, shivers creeped in on the knights’ skin as they felt it scour through every part of them instantly.


    Feeling a tight hold against their neck from the back, as if some lanky, cold hand of a skeleton tried to drag them, their eyes shivered while looking at the incoming demon lord.


    He walked leisurely towards the army, dragging the greatsword along the tattered and dirtied carpet from the past. A lengthy grin appeared on his face as he heard the valiant one bellow.


    “FIRE!” Raphael’s voice beamed in the ears of the armored archers and arbalists, and a second later, they raised and released their arrows, more than a hundred of them going at the same creature.


    Yet, before they could show their might, the demon’s sword lit up in the same black light as his horns, swinging to the side while releasing the flame before engulfing anything in its path.


    Devouring the arrows completely, the fire quickly reached the defender.


    Supporting the shield with his whole body, Byrde felt as though a battering ram hit him with the full force of four people guiding it. Even though it was a simple flame with a different shade to it.


    Still, gritting his teeth as his shoulder experienced hell, the man opposed it, leaving marks of his sabatons on the old castle’s floor while skidding on top of it.


    Although the attack was on a much larger scale than his own shield, once it hit the defensive weapon, all of the flames gathered around it.


    “GO!”


    While the shield hero battled with the attack, Raphael talked to his men, being the first to run at the demon, only the hero with the dagger equaling his speed and reactions.


    Already before the lord, the two heroes attacked, however, sensing a dangerous feeling, their feet turned back while the knights soon replaced their positions.


    Tens of them stood around, swinging their swords with the pure reason to defeat the enemy before them. To kill the demon lord that plagued the lands of the empire.


    Almost reaching the dark scales around its body, the swords suddenly collapsed, their owners turning headless when tens of fires came flying from Magon’s occupied hands.


    Gazing at the another set of arrows coming right at him, his greatsword moved once again, eating through half of the armors gathered beside him and all of the arrows once again, only to meet with Byrde, who had just finished dissipating the last attack across his shield.


    His rigid stance threatened to break. The force having become powerful enough to place his sturdy bones on the verge of crumbling apart.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    “ARRRGHHH!” The tall, burly man roared at the top of his lungs, getting it all out of him to preserve his position. Visibly, it helped. He may have traveled all the way back to the archers, but he successfully intercepted the attack from obliterating them.


    Alas, it came at a cost. His figure convulsed incessantly, spams reverberating across the muscles, all of which worked with a sole purpose in mind. Byrde struggled to hold the shield up, but fortunately, no more flames came forth.


    Ahead, he glanced, staring as the platinum hairs danced. Daintily, his body flowed through the atmosphere with staggering ease. Under the fuddle of the horror-ridden knights, Raphael cut through with his blade, aiming for an opening left by Magon.


    They watched. Along with the dagger-wielding girl, their eyes followed the movement of the two heroes that stopped the birth of the third slash.


    Both attacked the wrists holding the greatsword firmly in place, faltering the imminent movement that would have wiped the rest of the squad clean.


    At the same time, the girl moved. With her nimbleness, unobstructed by an overly heavy armor, Daine jumped and used her feet.


    The long blade of the huge greatsword soon met foreign bodies on top of its rough surface. Kicking with all of her might, Magon’s arms moved back for a blink of an eye.


    But, it was enough. Raphael’s arms responded as quick as lightning, retracting into his stance before stabbing right around the groin, in the crevices around the scales.


    A clear image appeared inside his head, knowing almost instinctively where the sword penetrated through. Touching the hip joint, the hero was about to yank his sword away sharply.


    Everything happened in a flash. Despite the girl holding back his weapon, it was only momentarily. She was about to jump away from the hard material when a grimace appeared on her face while looking down at her feet.


    Gnashing her teeth, Daine did it regardless, jumping off the greatsword using her mutilated and bloodied legs.


    The remnants of the black fire still lingered on them, devouring her body gradually. Witnessing the horrors before them, the knights caught the girl before cutting off the calves, the fire unable to spread any longer.


    “Is this the supposed might of heroes? Falling to a mere flame? I must have overestimated you,” Magon’s voice echoed in Raphael’s ears, the prior image colluding his eyes, unable to witness the one before him moving.


    “Don’t get distracted! Raphael!” A voice came through from the back, behind the hero bearing a shield. Through the air, three arrows pierced swiftly. The demon lord’s advance was forcefully stopped.


    Looking at the dark claws of the stopped foot, three arrows stuck between the nooks between the scales, the platinum-haired hero quickly regained his clarity.


    “Sorry for that, Kylli,” apologizing to the hero who nocked another three arrows on her bow, he swung his sword directly at the incoming, great blade of the demon lord.


    Attacking using only one hand, Magon freed the other to promptly catch the incoming arrows. Although her eyes widened as Kylli witnessed the weapons get stuck between the black claws, she immediately took yet another three from the quiver on her back.


    Meanwhile, the swords finally met. One grinned while the other grit his teeth. Standing in the stalemate, the demon lord towered over the seemingly puny existence. However, as little compared to him he was, Raphael withstood the otherworldly power.


    No, his sword pried away the strength of Magon’s right arm, slowly, but surely. To his aid, the knights moved while immediately surrounding the monster.


    It was the perfect scenario. While the hero’s sword battled the black flame from stretching outwards, they were allowed freedom in their attacks, gradually wounding the demon’s body. At least, such was the plan.


    In the unsuspected moment, the fire flowed all the way up to the grinning horns. Sensing the dangers, Raphael’s body instantly curled up in order to protect himself, but it was far beyond his measly strengths.


    A powerless sensation overtook him. Flying through the place all the way to the broken off wall of the castle, breath struggled to creep inside. Through his hazy eyes, the hero shivered after seeing something that could be only described with a single word.


    Domination. Walking through the castle’s ruins with a leisurely, unimpressed face, all of the knights that were just a breath ago around him dissipated into thin air.


    A radiating pain spread on the back of Raphael’s head, a heavy toll impeding his thinking. Getting up without a care for his feeble state, he wanted to make a difference in the massacre that was being displayed right in front of him.


    Without even using his flames, Magon smiled sneeringly while shaking off the arrows with just his blade.


    He stood before the tough-willed Byrde. With but a single thrust upwards, the hero had been impaled through, sharing the fate of the dagger-wielding girl. The tough iron shield that withstood any of the previous attacks crumpled like it was nothing before the lord.


    With a swing to the side, Byrde’s body fell apart completely, chunks of it striking the terrified archers that obstinately kept their duties, sending arrows after arrows.


    Only to be flung away using the dark greatsword whenever he swung.


    As soon as the third hero fell to his dark weapon, any hope left inside them crumbled apart like a brittle rock, their gaze lingering on the last of them, who finally stood up from the column his body crashed into.


    It took mere moments, yet the battalion of his men and the party of heroes was turned to dust. What was left of any of them was either a lifeless corpse or a burnt to nothingness ghost, Raphael being the only left. However, as the demon saw it, the air around him changed.


    Not only that. The hairs on his head and the eyes within his head, they glowed. Battling the shine of the moon, even he felt something spread in the dark body of his.


    “Tell me, hero. Was it worth it? You basically traded a pebble for humanity’s only supporting pillars.”


    His wounds weren’t visible anymore. Walking up to him with the long white blade in his two hands, the hero was ready to strike at any given moment.


    “Or were you hoping for this all along? The heroes dying so you could take on their strengths,” Magon barked with a smile. However, witnessing the state of the human, he himself had to take the situation with a more solemn undertone, taking the greatsword with both of his hands as well.


    “I won’t fall under your fallacies, Magon, I don’t care what you utter,” the hero said, his eyes even colder than when he first came here.


    Slowly, he raised his sword, swiftly appearing before the demon, a newfound strength rippling through his muscles. With only a sole step, Raphael cut through the air, slashing straight at the monster.


    For the second time, the two weapons met. This time, the tides became shifted, the hero’s blade hacking into the greatsword of his enemy, whose face started to melt. A grimacing expression appeared as he heard the next words coming from his mouth.


    “You aren’t nearly as strong as we believed you to be. That flame of yours, you used all of it up already.”


    “You dare say that? After five hundred men fell to your meager attempt? Three of the four great heroes died, the last one getting ever closer to them,” the demon lord snorted, an unresponsive look veiling his face.


    “I told you already, I will pierce the horns through that heart of yours. I will get you to reveal where he is.”


    No words formed anymore. Their only exchange of communication turned into a bout of pure physicality aided with techniques and movement.


    Pushing the hero away in vain, Raphael simply came right back at the sword, hacking into another spot of the sword, a symphony of sparks soon engulfing the dark night around them.


    One step without focus was enough for the other to finish the battle, but neither fell for tens of them on end. Performing monstrous actions with inhuman speeds, their slashes that cut through the floor around them only seemed to accelerate, no party ever getting tired.


    Incessantly, they exchanged attacks under the calm of the lifeless ruins. Riddling the blades with countless cuts and incisions, it was a miracle neither had yet fallen off or crushed under the weight of the other.


    Guided by the moonlight, the hero danced, his hairs flowing along with the tepid breeze.


    Imposed upon the world, the demon lord stood firmly on the ground, the previous presence of darkness no longer spreading through the space.


    The muscles and bones screamed, caring for none. Reverberating in the form of pain, the tremors filled their bodies each time the weapons met. But, they couldn’t focus on it. If they did, the battle would have already ended.


    Their bodies breaking apart, both of them fought constantly, not realizing the ascent of the dawn, hidden in the dark walls of the broken apart castle.


    The hero felt it, inside his body. It moved as though strings pulled him back. The muscles of his arms and legs had finally torn themselves, something that lurked within him ever since he received the new strength.


    However, no matter how he looked at it, he could have never regretted it, the greatsword of the demon lord cut in two, a moment before his own blade would have fallen apart.


    With each following movement, his body broke increasingly, bruising all over his pale skin. Yet, when the white blade pierced through the tough scales, stabbing through the heart of the demonic being, he wasn’t able to register it anymore.


    Magon fell to his knees, strength quickly dissipating from his huge body.


    Although the hero couldn’t see his eyes, he was quite sure of something. The fear of the unknown struck them, just like it did the humans nineteen years ago.


    “Where is Lutiel?” The hero muttered, the expression on his face changing. Unlike his usual, tranquil way around the world, the eyes of a murderer appeared on him.


    Nonetheless, the only response he got was something that made them even more gruesome.


    “And why should I tell you that? I’m already dying. You lost your chances, hero,” he laughed in his face, the black teeth entwined with the crimson fluid. Spilling out of his clenched jaw, the blood dripped onto the cold floor being gradually illuminated by the peeping sun.


    His pale, pure-white neck was quickly grasped onto, gripped by the hero’s right arm. Even more so than before, the light blue eyes of his practically shined, brutish strength funneling into his body.


    With nothing but vanity, devoid of emotions, the hero’s eyes stared at the demon that struggled to breathe properly.


    Drilled into the neck, his fingers dug themselves deeper with each second, blood starting to seep out of the armor cracks around his arm.


    “I will murder every one of your demons. I will purge your kind, smite any last remaining one, and burn any strands of hairs that are left by you.”


    With the sword still stuck inside his heart, Magon’s moves turned sluggish, but he didn’t fail to deliver his last gift to humanity.


    “Lutiel is… long since dead…” he muttered to the hero, his arm unable to be sensed when his eyes widened fully.


    Something was and felt wrong, mused Raphael. A hot feeling spread in the middle of his chest while some warm liquid began to travel up to his mouth.


    Coughing up the blood, it couldn’t be contained. Finally, the hero gazed down, only to witness the claws stuck inside his chest, penetrating through the armor.


    His heart beat no longer, having been lost. Quickly, the lights that lit inside his eyes dimmed, strength going out of him like some riddled bucket that kept on losing its waters.


    Just like those of Raphael, Lutiel’s eyes stopped glowing, though for a different reason. With the helmet around his head lowered, the stream of tears coming down his cheeks had already dried up. He no longer had it in him to produce any more of them.


    Deprived. He had become deprived of all. Stripped of those dearest and closest to him, all because of him, the chains started clattering.


    Sure, they were his friends, but he never expected them to come. No, he wished for it. For them not to come. He pulled onto them, despite not being able to move.


    He was the cause of this, he knew that. He was a fool to think they would listen to his request, to that damn letter.


    “I’m sorry,” he apologized through the metallic plates, his voice restrained somewhat. Remaining in the same state for a few minutes, his head started ringing from the pain.


    However, he didn’t know what to do anymore. Stuck in this hell, he was the only one left. Raising his head through the dark space, for the second time, his eyes started glowing, his thought not able to be finished as something made his eyes tremble to the very core.


    Hovering in front of him, there was a thing. Deep black, it still had a glisten to it despite this devoid of light place. A bubble, wobbling around in the air, away from his face.


    ‘What… is... this?’ he muttered inwardly, no one able to explain. And before he knew, his body moved autonomously, breaking apart in the process.


    Reaching out with his head, the chains quickly acted, constraining him, but he didn’t care. Something inside screamed that he needed to burst that bubble, as quickly as possible.


    Pulling with all of the strength left inside his body, the brittle, undernourished bones of his threatening to break along with the little muscles mounted onto them.


    “AHHHHHHH!” He screamed, but pushed nevertheless.


    As though giving the trunk its very last hit with an axe, it started to tilt. He heard something. A weak crack around his shoulders spread and a sharp pain hit him, but it was pointless.


    He was already next to the bubble, the helmet touching its exterior. Immediately, as it burst, the space around was engulfed, reaching through the ground all the way to the world above.


    A thunderous earthquake tore the world apart, a light brighter than a hundred suns growing through the lands.