Prologue – The end before the beginning.

!!..Demon King..!!

Immortality is a myth and not at the same time. Ric's journey is going to prove this concept.

Magic system: Pactomancy - The Art of Mystic Contracts.

Color Code: Enigmatic Indigo

Pactomancy is a profound magical discipline that revolves around forging mystical contracts to harness and manipulate arcane forces. Practitioners, known as Oatbinders, establish pacts with otherworldly entities, ancient spirits, attributes, or even elements of the magical realm.

Prologue – The end before the beginning.

 Wisps of light and wisps of dark. One carried the light of hope and the other left pure destruction in its wake. Both contradictions and opposing forces. Yet they bore a sin… a sin of conspiring.

 Each held out a hand, hoping to reach the other. They both needed and depended on each other to survive, and this formed a connection, a bridge, a hole from which one influenced the other.

 This breach broke the balance of nothingness and formed a new balance called reality. While some individuals use such gaps to rewrite history, change the future, or summon nothingness... others simply step through the void and into a new reality.

 Swoosh! Flick, and tap.

 Down goes a dragon.

 'De'mo Either Ric,' the son of destruction, conqueror of worlds, slayer of dreams, or well known throughout the demon world as Ric the Dragon feaster, sat on top of a dragonkin, cackling with thunderous laughter, which shook his world.

 One who hears or even dares travel to the capital of the 'Netherlands,' now turned waste pit, would never realize that Ric was in pain or a single step away from death.

 With a missing right arm, his dominant arm, two broken horns that sprouted blood onto his face, and a gaping hole in the place of his heart, one should predict his death. Yet none would, for their eyes were glued to his devilishly devious smile, still mocking, still welcoming a challenge, still claiming victory as his birthright.

 "My, my, my... hahaha..." Ric's laughter shook the planet. "How about we you take five?" His glare sends shivers down the spines of two armies, the entire world, which rose to face him, eliminates a single individual. The former demon king.

 "You guys look worn out."

 We know the demon king for many things. The rise of the demonic race, the slayer of the eternal dragon, the dragon feaster who only feasts on dragon meat, and a glutton who feasts every hour.

 These are but a few titles he earned by simply being himself. Other titles praise his devilish looks, a smile that kills, and a mind that can't be apprised, but Ric hates a monologue.

 Many have tried, the world has witnessed, yet no one could outwit the demon king, until...

 He got bored and played a match of wits with himself and lost.

———<>|*|<>———

 Saint Cathel wasn't a grand kingdom like Saint Domo or even Saint Luez. To be fair, no kingdom is as great!

 Formed during the inter-species war 'Apocalypse,' the rulers of Saint Domo and Luez, 'King Author,' and 'Queen Elizabeth' rule over the world. Or the continent of 'Saint,' as no ship has ever returned from a voyage beyond the horizon.

 No, Saint Cathel has no great founder who fought and preserved humanity during the apocalypse. Not all of their roads are paved, nor do they have a self-recycling drainage system.

 No, nothing of that sort.

 The newer generation is even oblivious to the existence of magic.

 For them, magic is a foreign concept, a miracle only a chosen few can perform.

 While the world strode forward because of their heritage, fame, power, and magic, the Nobel men of Cathel remained behind by choosing to be a mere support piece in the grand scheme.

 The greater kingdoms require an evergreen leaf to create a health potion.

 We shall collapse our houses and build a farm for you.

 Plumbing issue?

 Our people were born in the sewers just to be adapted enough to clean yours.

 Saint Cathel lived by one motto; We serve.

 Seven kingdoms rose after the apocalypse and Saint Cathel isn't one among them.

 True, it is a kingdom but a support kingdom built to take the blame or make servers suitable enough to serve the other kingdoms.

 The poor souls in Cathel aren't even near the 'great ocean' surrounding the continent, for them to swim away into nothingness, beyond the horizon.

 It wasn't like this always. Cathel was near the ocean four years ago and a brave soul swam to freedom, never to return. Since that incident, the kings and queens of all seven kingdoms voted as one for the very first time since their establishment and moved the kingdom of Saint Cathel.

 "They want us to move again? Have they fucking lost their minds?" Sir Thomas Toe bellowed at his minister, repeating his concerns for the umpteenth time that day.

 Credits to Toe has he never once lost the confusion or sharp tone in his voice.

 His minister, one among the many of Saint Cathel, also praised him so.

 "My dear sir, what a grand voice you command and at such an hour." Minister Anzel gestures toward the clock's hands, which have slumped down, notifying the day's end.

 "I'm afraid Lady Maclaren might not find it so soothing at this hour." He stresses on the last word as Toe slumps back in his chair, clearing his throat.

 Sir Toe is a burly man to put it lightly. Fat won every struggle to consume muscle, overtaking his once muscular form and spitting out a behemoth of a human. He outgrew every pant, shirt, bed, furniture, and door that could let him through.

 The castle had special carpenters assigned to Toe, who stayed closer to him than his ministers. They daily worked on expanding the furniture, and doors to better fit their employer.

 Thanks to Sir Toe's enchanted clothes, his dress robe was spared, for now.

 Minister Anzel or Minister A, as Toe calls him, could see Toe's bare chest as two buttons struggled to keep the enchanted shirt closed.

 "Shall we pick this up in the morning, sir?"

 Anzel adjusts his monocle, gripping it tighter with his eye and a sharp nose that creates a bridge, separating his left vision from his right.

 The glasses couldn't fit all of Toe's enormous body, but it didn't have to.

 With an incantation placed over them, they served not to see what was spoken, but what wasn't.

 "You may go, Minister A." said Toe.

 Anzel watches Sir Toe's lips move through his left eye, while the monocle on the right shows Toe, shooing him away.

 Adjusting his monocle, now Anzel peers through the true intention of the ruler, his employer, Sir Thomas Toe.

 "I shall eat you and spit you out."

 A dark smoke similar to Sir Toe's form lingers behind Toe, spilling every deep, dark secret as Sir Toe thinks of it.

 "How dare he remind me of my wife? I shall have your head." The ghostly appearance leaps forward, startling Anzel.

 "What is it?" Sir Toe gets suspicious.

 Anzel quickly steadies himself and replies with a calm, tired voice. "Nothing sir... I am just under the weather a bit." He clears his throat and peeks through the spectacles again.

 Toe's darker apparition leaned against the far wall, unbothered by his surroundings. "If Minister A wasn't so useful, I would've personally killed and ripped him to shreds."

 These words forced Anzel's lips to perk up. 'Yes you oaf, you need me.' He reminded himself, bowed, and walked away.

 Like any other great nation, they are people who act as the face of the nation, be it king, queen, or prince. But the true rulers are always hidden behind a veil of deceit.

 In truth, the ministers were the veil itself and no one ever suspects the veil.

 From collecting taxes to implementing rules, the minister handles every detail of the kingdom. Kings come and go and the kingdom never falls, but if the minister falls, the kingdom crumbles to nothingness, and that damn fool isn't even a king.

 Sir Thomas Toe was just Thomas Toe. A bottom-tier soldier was assigned as a temporary ruler for this dump.

 Anzel glances outside from an open balcony, which is balanced over an arc.

 The streets closer to the palace shone gold, stood tall, and always had cheers filling its street. Of course, this facade only worked from this particular balcony.

 You see these waterfalls falling beneath the balcony did a perfect job, muffling any desperate sounds strong enough to cross a hundred acres of farmland between the balcony and the castle wall.

 Anzel pulls out a dirty brown coin from his pouch, tucked under his robes, and installs it inside a small apparatus over the balcony.

 The machine flings the coin toward the crowd.

 The sounds die down and all of a sudden explode louder than before.

 Citizens of Cathel fought over the position of the coin while Anzel waved his arms and basked under their praises.

———<>|*|<>———

 Phase three.

 Elf commander raised her hand, gesturing and commanding her fleet to take positions.

 "How stupid does one have to be to yell out their battle plans?" Ric questions the army.

Step & Foo sh…

 Ric zooms out and into the Elf commander. With a 'thud,' he headbutts her, cracking her skull open. "Elf… stupid." He bursts into laughter, grabs the elf, and flings her onto an incoming attack.

 The Elf becomes the barrier Between Ric and a massive fireball.

 "Och!" Winced Ric. "Elf do-be doing no good against fire. Not dragon fire anyway… Friendly fire alert!" Ric shouts and points at a dragon hovering far above reach.

 "Everyone saw that, you lizard for brains. Stop hiding in the clouds and get your ass here already."

 The elite fleet of sky warriors flared their wings in anger but stopped once their wing commander, Commander Dracian Dred, hummed with power.

 Diving to confront Ric, might or might not kill them, but disobey Dracian and he shall rip you apart.

 The fleet warriors comically drift back, not wanting the commander to spot their wings out of line.

 Below, a crisp black corpse tickles Ric's nose. "Such a waste of food." He glances at the unrecognizable Elf commander's corpse, breaking down to ash as it falls.

 Ric's eyes flickered from left to right, up to down, back to front, analyzing, judging, predicting, and just a bit, condoning the situation.

 He maybe shouldn't have planned for his own demise.

 A decade ago, Ric stared deep into the never-ending abyss of beauty and saw its ending.

 It sucked.

 Everyone had everything they wanted.

 The demon stuffed underground enjoyed their chaos, the dragons ruling the sky enjoyed their freedom, the dwarf hidden within the crevices of the earth enjoyed their gold, and the oblivious humans enjoyed their myths.

 Everything was fine and dandy… and bland.

 Ric was bored out of his mind.

 No one wanted more.

 No one wanted it all.

 He wanted it all, and now that he had it, he pondered if it was worth the time. The effort was minuscule at best, so much so that it could be the reason why he never appreciated the reward. For everything is but a flicker in the mighty tides of time.

 "Maintain your composure, men. He's a tricky opponent." The wing commander, Dracian, flaps his wings once, drawing attention to him like a magnet.

 "You fight with your mind when it comes to him."

 He never had to flap again as he stood amidst the clouds with a stoic presence, projecting courage.

 "Do not let go of your life. It might be less for you, but for me, it's my world. I repeat and shall never repeat myself. HOLD YOUR FIRE."

———<>|*|<>———

 "Hunt him down, you midget." Sir Toe yells into the ears of Sir Ironbeard.

 Ironbeard was a little man in every sense of the word. Born and raised until three feet, he remained there for the rest of his life. With exceptional listening powers, such as any normal dwarf possesses, Sir Ironbeard took his hearing to the next level.

 He trained and honed his hearing for years until he heard the fish swimming in the sewers. When his friends spread rumors about his latent abilities, Sir Toe snatched him away from the filth and gave him a new identity.

 An identity to make himself rich.

 Dwarfs are in tune with the earth to such an extent that they can pick up the whispers of hidden treasures buried within. Some even go as far as commanding the earth to mold its form, strengthen their bodies, or even consume their enemies.

 Sir Toe cared little about the rest. His ears, or rather eyes were fixated on Sir Ironbeard's ears.

 Toe went above and beyond for Sir Ironbeard, making him a 'Sir,' in charge of the treasury. Dwarfs do love their gold, and Sir Toe wanted to keep his gold safe.

 At first, Sir Ironbeard hid the gold so well that the thieves and nobles alike never saw a piece of gold. Impressed, they handed every piece of gold they acquired legally or otherwise. But when the time came to withdraw funds to run their kingdoms, Sir Ironbeard still kept the gold, their gold, hidden.

 On second thought, it was stupid of Toe to keep a dwarf in charge of gold! Sure, they keep it safe from any prying eyes, but that also includes your own.

 Years pass by as the dwarf finds, hides, and gets yelled at by Sir Toe and the world.

 Last year, the Dwarf's treasured hearing veined. Every worker in the castle knew it, but no one dared point at Sir Toe.

 In anger, Toe strips him of his responsibilities but gets puzzled when it comes to the title.

 How does one remove a bestowed title?

 Yet Toe kept the dwarf around, for he was the only one who knew the location of the fortune collected by all of humankind.

 Toe always kept the dwarf at his side, not that he trusted his sense of hearing anymore. Toe only hoped to catch him sneaking into the true treasury someday.

 Unluckily, this wasn't that day.

 For the first time in a decade, Sir Toe ordered the dwarf to leave his side and follow a command. Too bad his hearing was so far gone that Toe had to scream the instruction for an hour before he made a slight groan, asking Toe to repeat it one last time.

———<>|*|<>———

 Ric marks the strongest enchanters in the army then turns his gaze toward Dracian. "Do you know when I started liking Dragon meat?" His smile spreads to a mad grin.

 "Veil of deceit." Ric murmurs a silent spell and all hell breaks loose.

———<>|*|<>———

 Toe did not want to get up, nor did the chair let him get up.

 Stuck in an awkward position and having no choice, Toe patiently explained the situation to Ironberad and sent him to convey the news to Anzel.

 Sir Ironbeard forgot half of the instruction on the way and the other half staring at Anzel.

 After sharing a few moments of awkwardness, Anzel headed back to their employer to get the details and escorted the lost dwarf with him, who kept wandering the corridors like a stranger.

 "They did what?" Exclaimed Anzel, in shock.

 "The next question mark I hear in anyone's voice won't have a voice," Warned Toe.

 "Yes." Anzel straightened and gave Toe a quick, light bow.

 "Sir?" Ironbeard held onto his puzzled face for the entire conversation.

 "Why… I mean, the Chamber family must have lost their minds." Anzel slipped, then caught himself and calculated the idiocrasy of the situation out loud.

 "Going against the ruler. For this dump, nonetheless." He looks around the grand hall filled with golden portraits of Sir Toe and lowers his gaze over Toe.

 "I mean, why… now is the best time. They planned this long ago." He declared.

 Anzel already perceived the situation, yet he listened to Toe's rant about the Chamber household, trying to act surprised at the last revelation.

 Turns out, Sir Toe received a quarter of the information, following the Chamber's betrayal, and his oblivious citizens knew more than him.

 The Chamber family is right to strike at his seat. Someone should have already stolen the imbecile's seat long ago.

 Anzel only pitied the Chambers for being clumsy and having a competition like himself.

 He recognized their plan.

 He was the one who made the plan for the Chamber household in the first place. They didn't even need or want such an outrageous thought. Yet Anzel made one and manipulated them to follow through anyway.

 After all, they were just a pawn in his grand scheme.

— — —<>|*|<>— — —

 The eternal dragon, the dragon queen, was the protector, the pillar that held the light. A pillar of hope, and the absolute powerhouse that dominated the lands and the skies, ruling over all that is alive and dead, maintaining the balance.

 From vicious creatures such as Hydras, Gargoyles, and Basilisks, to tamper Drakes, Cyclopes, and Centaurs, to the hot-tempered and troublemakers, Minotaurs, Cerberus, and Fairies. Even the vermin such as humans, Goblin, and Demons, bowed under her presence.

 She didn't hold any power.

 She was power.

 Until a demon wondered… "How would that taste like?"

— — —<>|*|<>— — —

 The Chambers lived in a humble room at the corner of the castle. They asked little and were provided with little. Generations of slavery had earned them this spot, and they cherished every bit until a child dared dream… "What can I be?"

 Magic was forbidden on the lands of Saint Cathel for many reasons; the foremost is freedom. A child throwing a fireball will dream of burning down the master's house he vowed to serve. To begin with, why does a servant even need magic?

 Sir Toe declared a decree where any child born with the curse of a contract toward an element shall be considered a threat to his or her family, the nation, and the ruler above them all, King Author himself.

 Words impact harder than actions, and if said words are written with a magical quill dipped from a mystical inkpot, then people become mindless slaves.

 Families believed magic to be a curse. Mother killed their children before they bloomed and fathers killed their wives before they conceived. For having such blood be born is a sin on its own.

 While nations went to war, shaking the very support that held some meaning, Sir Toe let himself be persuaded by Anzel.

 He might be right, he might be wrong. Sir Toe never was the thinking sort. For now, they required warriors to protect the piles of garbage they called land, and in time, sit with the council of power, beside the rulers of the world.

 Ages turned and new traditions paved new paths.

 Another letter. Another announcement and the kingdom perceived the gifted as a boon.

 Times changed to better suit the needs of a kid.

 Before birth, he redefined the word magic.

 After birth, he broke the shackles of society, introducing immortality to mortals.

 While humans held the advantage of affiliating themselves with any affinity, they also lacked the lifespan or shell to wield such incomparable power.

 According to the rumors, Dwarves form a contract with the earth before their birth, becoming truly mud-born.

 The children of growth, Elves are raised by their contracts with nature.

 Kennel folks tame their beasts to form an equal's contract and the fiercest of them all…

 The races—Fae, Draconian, Fenick, and Demon—dwell in the mystica of magic itself.

 Toe slams his fist onto the desk, shattering it beyond recognition. All the memories of the war, the frustration, flashed on his face as he relived the days of war, the days of weakness, and fear.

 We were their slaves—pets until one day we claimed what rightfully was ours.

 We drove the demons into the underworld, dragons into the skies, the fae into the woods. Fenick into extinction, the rest under our thumb, and now it was time to rule over the humans that stood his way.

— — —<>|*|<>— — —

 Destined to fail and hungry for more, Ric bowed to the darkness, wanting more.

 While fate turned him away, darkness welcomed him in.

 A bow was all it took… For the darkness to guide him through.

 True to its name, Ric stayed, following every lesson to date.

 Killing, betraying, and growing, until it deemed him ready to face fate.

 In its path, in its way, when the time came, he did the same.

 Betray thee thought of hope. For once he could, he swallowed the darkness whole.

 After conquering the darkness, Ric butchered the strongest monster on the planet. If he knew he had to take his place, Ric would have never slain the previous demon king.

 One might imagine ruling a kingdom of demons is great.

 No rules, boundaries, ethics, or any other construct that makes a functioning society functional.

 These only became true since Ric became the king.

 "What do we do about the demons who do not listen?" The Minister questioned.

 Ric stared at the minister with bewilderment before answering. "Let them free?"

 "Our food crisis?"

 "Kill."

 "Water?"

 "Also, Kill."

 "Ah…"

 "Let me stop you there. Remove every problem that can be solved by simply killing others and taking their shit."

 Minister flips through some pages, looks at Ric, and flips through even more pages.

 "Enemies that attack?"

 "Fight back."

 "Peace treaty?"

 "What's peace?" Ric repeated his bewildered look.

 "That thing… that… we do. Not to harm others?"

 "We are demons!"

 "Yes… but we don't want every other species hunting us."

 "Then attack who attacks us?"

 "But we are the ones attacked first!"

 "Ah! For demons' sake, fuck the treaty, fuck peace, and fuck all of them. We are demons… Now tell me, what's for lunch?"

 "Remember the food crisis?"

 "Yes…!"

 "It still is…"

 Without another word, Ric storms towards the door, kicking the throne on his way out.

 "Where are you going?" yells the Minister.

 "Hunting! I am hungry. Do you want anything?"

 "No! I have a left-over mouse." Minister mumbles, a tad bit disappointed. "What are you going to hunt?"

 Ric was already gone and upon his return, he threw a grand banquet. The centerpiece of the opulent affair was an awe-inspiring dragon's head—the revered symbol of the queen of dragons.

— — —<>|*|<>— — —

 Before claiming dominance, humankind snuck around the beasts, surviving, learning, and plotting.

 While we can learn and pass down knowledge, there is a limit that our bodies just can't break.

 We bore their children to strengthen our kind and after a century, finally broke a threshold, creating mages and slayers.

 Mages manipulated their contract, their element, from a distance, while slayers manifested their contract within themselves. Thus, the first age of domination began.

 Every war demanded more sacrifice.

 Every child bore a sin.

 While the sins accumulated, a ritual was formed, creating a new form of warriors; Healers.

 In the times when a minor wound left a soldier behind, a healer armed a hundred men, and even amongst the strongest rituals, a child shone brighter, for he was born a natural.

 Naturals single-handedly won us the grand war 'Apocalypse.'

— — —<>|*|<>— — —

 A noble, and that, the ruler of Saint Cathel, being present at a disgusting peasant childbirth was concerning enough, but blessing the child and giving it a name was downright a miracle.

 Sir Toe placed his palm over the just-born baby, his palm covering the baby whole. He aimed for its head, but his palm was too huge to place it over such a tiny head.

 Gasps and murmurs filled the hall.

 Toe ignored them all, for this child held the light and she held the glory of Saint Cathel; his Cathel.

— — —<>|*|<>— — —

 A single name held the responsibility for chaos.

 He broke a balance and became the reason behind the downfall of his world.

 A name everyone feared.

 A name that held darkness itself.

 Ric took what he wanted and encouraged others to do the same. Only once he got bored did he reassemble the fickle balance holding his world together.

 Some assume a wise minister tricked him into reassembling the balance. But Ric was no fool, far from it. He broke and fixed the world on a whim, and now, peering down at the world through the dragon's seat, he couldn't help but wonder.

 What a beautiful sight she withholds.

 Ric could view the entire kingdom of Draconia, the lower creature beneath, and the despised creatures of the underworld.

 Ric, with a superior vision, still had to squint to peek at the Netherlands.

 "Ah!" he realizes. "No wonder everyone hates us… Who would squint to analyze those?"

 Ric spots a demon scratching his bum, smells it, and then continues to eat like there is nothing to matter.

 "And the minister calls me disgusting." Ric squints harder. "Wait… is that the minister?"

 The dragon's seat held a million views, which kept changing per season. Dragon queen held this seat as her most-priced position. At times of doubt and to calm her soul, she always relied upon it to keep her sane. 

 Ric…

 Ric felt bored after the first five minutes, and for the sin of being lazy, lounging for a tad bit longer, the boredom turned into a stupid thought.

 "Let's burn this down."

— — —<>|*|<>— — —

 "I am going to build a new world." Sir Toe beamed, peering down at the baby.

 Half of them worried he was going to eat the baby and the other half saw right through his plan.

 'Keep dreaming tubby.' Anzel hid his thoughts and scowled.

 Before Anzel used a spell to influence the crowd, to manipulate the imbecile with more power. The imbecile, Sir Toe, opened his mouth, and the room went silent.

 "By the power vested in me, I pronounce you a lady. Rise and serve your kingdom."

 "A baby can't rise?" A servant wondered out loud.

 Caught in the confusion and thrown into a loop, Anzel released the spell inside the ring and spoke the wrong words. "She? It's he!"

 "Oh!" Sir Toe cleared his throat. "I knight you then." He spoke in a hurry, tapping the baby on both his shoulders.

— — —<>|*|<>— — —

 Two schemes hatched, one of light and the other of dark.

 One wanted to grow and the other to devour.

 Anzel plotted to snuff the last light of hope and Ric created a situation for his world to reclaim its damage.

— — —<>|*|<>— — —

 "Kill me and take my spot." Ric bellowed to the world above.

 With no response, he offered the seat to the underworld.

 To his surprise, the entire underworld bounced on the opportunity.

 Old Demons stretched with their canes, children made packs, and the powerful plotted schemes.

 "I meant one by one!" Ric frowned at the army disturbing his mid-day beauty sleep. "Oh, well… I am awake now. Let's do this."

— — —<>|*|<>— — —

 Sir Reynold Icarus Chambers is a boon the gods bestowed upon humankind.

 He was reminded of this daily since birth, and received a greater treatment than royalty, because of his healing power.

 Toe didn't like peasants entering his palace or sending his one ticket to glory outside the palace. Neither did Anzel, but it was essential for the kid to grow before Anzel decided if he wanted to use him or dispose of him.

 Seeing Reynold's rapid growth, Anzel leaned on the latter.

— — —<>|*|<>— — —

 A fierce battle raged on for seven years.

 Ric didn't hesitate for one bit before smacking children's heads together or beating an old demon with her own cane. When victory was imminent, he annoyed the rest of the world to join in on the slaughter party.

 The world shook for seven years and realized the cause during the second.

 It was Ric again… It was always Ric.

 Yet none of them dared confront him until Ric himself planted an idea to collaborate.

 Now, the entire world leaped on the chance to regain their balance, with only one doubt lingering in everyone's mind.

 'Why didn't they ever think of it?'

— — —<>|*|<>— — —

 The boy was a genius of the highest caliber.

 Sir Reynold healed minor wounds at the age of two. One just had to be nearby.

 As time prolonged, he only grew stronger, eliminating poisons, defending against minor curses, and also being able to reattach any limb under favorable circumstances.

 The kid had to die. Anzel reaffirmed his decision.

— — —<>|*|<>— — —

 Ric can die.

 The world believed.

— — —<>|*|<>— — —

 Plots were hatched to bend destiny to their will, but fate still leaned in favor of the odd one.

— — —<>|*|<>— — —

 "Hold your fire!" the wing commander, Terrian, ordered.

 "Veil of deceit." Ric murmurs a silent spell and all hell breaks loose.

 "I told you to hold." Terrian roared at his army, while they ignored him and scattered about. "Do not rush the demon king," he repeated himself to a def crowd.

 Ric appeared in front of Terrian, his wife, the eternal dragon, the dragon queen, the true, former ruler of this world, head in his hand.

 "That cannot be. She has been gone for a long time." Terrian stammered, denying what his vision confirmed.

 Her pale lush scales, fierce yet kind eyes, and those horns which she used to tickle him with.

 Every aspect was fresh in his memory, in front of his eyes, yet he knew it was all an illusion.

 A spell of lies created by the devil himself.

 He told himself this a hundred times, even so, his heart yearned and shook the body to react, shook it to claim a head for a head. Forgo the promise to never cross paths with the demon king.

 "Do you know when I started liking Dragon meat? Ric's smile spreads to a mad grin, poking at the armies to break their formation. "When I ripped her throat out."

 "One minute for the spell to take effect." Minotaur chief told the Demon minister.

 "That's one minute too long." The Minister completes his spell, summoning a white orb of pure power.

 The orb burns through his flesh, yet the minister shows no visible pain.

 He tosses the orb toward the Minotaur before it claims his hand.

 Minotaur felt the urge to flee upon witnessing the effect of the orb on the demon minister's hand. As the second most powerful being after the demon king himself, he was disconcerted by his inability to withstand such power. Regardless of his pride, he decided to run.

 One step away the Minotaur froze in place.

 "It won't hurt your race. Calm down." Demon Minister frowns and rips his arm out. "Take that to the dragon king and fuse it with his blade."

 "But—"

 "Shut up and do as I say. I have known every demon king and this preparation to freeze his movements for a second won't do you any good if you can't kill him in that second. I have been preparing this since the first demon king. It should be more than enough for this twerp."

 Minotaur rushes to a Garuda and explains the plan. The orb kept shifting hands until all hell broke loose.

 "Don't fall for such a simple spell, you hot-headed nitwits." Demon Minister scowls.

 With a battle roar, he grabs the attention of the army beside him. Scanning through the crowd, he finds one worthy pawn to carry out the mission.

 "Goblin king." Minister gives a slight bow. "I need that sword if I—we have to win."

 Demon Minister points at the Dragon King who was being ripped in two by Ric.

 "Which one?" The Goblin king spots two blades on either side of the dragon.

 The question baffled the minister. "Anyone would do!"

 "Okay." The goblin king shrugs and rides the battle fox at the farthest sword.

 "At times like these! Seriously!"

 Minister swore to eliminate the damn goblin race once he claims the throne.

 "Unleash the spell on my command." He sends a telepathic message to the Elf king.

 "But—" That imbecilic went on about the casualties who now rushed Ric.

 'Next, I am killing those pointy-eared freaks.' Minister took a solemn vow.

 "One down." Ric ripped through the dragon king's heart. "Now, whose heart should I eat in front of whom?" His power washes over the battlefield, suppressing every aura in its path. His eyes darted between the kings who were the only ones that could withstand his presence.

 "You? You, you…?" Ric bursts into mad laughter. "So many options."

 "We all will die if not." Minister urges the Elf king.

 Funny how Ric's presence worked against him. Because of Ric's aura, the Elf snapped into or out of senses and released the spell.

 A massive chain flickered to reality, consuming every creature in its path as fuel.

 Every soul on the battlefield lends their power to the Elf to create these soul-binding chains, and now all of them paid with their lives as it worked better with them acting as catalysts.

 Time froze, the planet stood still, and while others sacrificed for this very moment, Ric was the only soul who enjoyed it.

 "My stomach hungers for a petty demon today." Ric stops and eyes the minister. "Haha ha-ha!"

 The moment passed and no one stepped forward against the demon king.

 Time froze for the demon king, but his smile froze the world.

 A miracle takes place. As for now, only it could stand a chance before the demon king.

 The moment passed and yet the chains stood within reality, holding the demon king in place.

— — —<>|*|<>— — —

 Anzel liked to think he was the smartest man in Saint Cathel. No, the smartest to have been born after the 'Apocalypse.' He needed nothing else but his brain to soar up the pedestals of mortality.

 One scheme led him into the castle and another is enough to lead him to rule the world.

 Sir Toe was an imbecile, according to Anzel. He didn't require an elaborate plan to fool the fool. First, he showed him the kid's potential, then later planted the seed of doubt.

 "We need a leash, my sire." Anzel proposed.

 He explained the concept of stupidity to the stupid several times and repeated it yet again.

 Seriously, what did he expect?

 The plan was simple for the simple-minded sir of his. "We shall put a leash so that the kid, Sir Reynold, never double-crosses me—us—YOU."

 Anzel adjusts his monocle to find two dumb-founded Sir Toe's. He had to explain it to them again.

 After several hours of explanation, Sir Toe agreed to the experiment where Anzel would place a forced bond over the kid, making him a pawn to the kingdom. To Sir Toe.

 Anzel meant half of what he said. The kingdom of Saint Cathel should prosper. It's the place where he was born and raised, after all. They will reach a new status and he shall be the reason behind it all.

 He understood Sir Toe's concerns over the experiment. It was a new territory of magic and the child could die during the procedure, but Anzel didn't mind the results either way.

 A pawn that won't follow his command is of no use to him or Saint Cathel.

— — —<>|*|<>— — —

 Two knives claimed two hearts

 How fast can you heal? Questions Anzel with a devious smile, twisting the knife deeper into a kid, Sir Reynold's chest.

 How can you win without healing? The Demon Minister exploited the demon king's only weakness.

 A blade dug into the Demon king's heart as the world roared and threw every spell at him.

 Wounds piled on… until the odd ones met their demise and were claimed by the passage of time.

— — —<>|*|<>— — —

 Nun Mary never believed in violence. While the world plotted away, she worked toward salvation.

 The world deemed Mary a fool as she cared for the poor, less fortunate, needy, and the ones the people discarded as trash.

 She took in anyone who didn't have a roof over their head. She fed anyone who asked for food, and her home, her heart, always saw everyone equally.

 In times of happiness, everyone laughed at her.

 Of despair, after the Apocalypse, she became the beacon of hope.

 King Author banished Mary from his kingdom, provoking the people to start a civil war.

 Mary struck a deal with him, leaving the citizens with a better future within the most powerful kingdom, leaving them with their lives.

 She struck a deal to make homes for the homeless, farms for the hungry, and hope for those who have lost everything in the war. All she had to do was leave and what an insignificant matter it was when her people got what they deserved.

 After foreseeing the construction and teaching the people to farm and respect each other, she left without saying goodbye.

 No nation dared allow such a saint to step into their kingdom. The irony never left her lips, as Mary's smile only grew over time.

 Rumours led Mary to Saint Cathel. While other nations blocked her every effort to enter or care for their citizen, even outside of their city, Cathel welcomed Mary with open arms.

 Anzel did not care if she entered or gave hope to the citizens.

 He read people like a book and Mary would never start a war if it meant death, even for a single individual, and war always meant death.

 Mary set up a small tent which grew into a small village where every citizen visited at least once a week.

 Minor wounds were treated with bandages and broken hearts were mended with good company. She had no power and did not need them to give hope, to save who she could.

 Anzel threw many trials her way, asking for taxes, demanding to produce more food for the capital, materials for alchemy, and slaves to serve.

 Little by little, they tested her patience, broke the citizen's will, and forced Mary back to the tent she started with. Yet nothing Anzel did broke her smile or break her will to help.

 Mary rebuilt her tent into a house and took several children under her wing, starting from scratch.

 It might take a while to build back her village, but that's what the citizens told her about her house.

 How can we ever go back? It is impossible. We are doomed to fail; they lost hope.

 "Look how much steadier and spacious it is compared to my previous house." Mary beamed at her two-story building. "You don't need magic to grow. We build our lives with our own hands." She flexed her muscles, which were just bone and skin, forcing a chuckle from the crowd.

 The chuckle died down faster than she hoped and people held onto their disbelief and Mary could not blame them for it.

 She understood and stood taller than before, ready to reignite the hope.

 Searching for some sweet berries to make her signature ale, Mary stumbled upon a suspicious group riding deeper into the forests of the Fae.

 "Such fools." Mary curses and follows them, hoping to speak some sense into them.

 The torches left a trail of smoke, which settled on the forest floor like a cloud of road for Mary to follow.

 The Fea mist engulfing the forest had mystical powers, and those riders were riding deep into death's territory.

 Mary muttered a prayer, following the smoke path, praying for them to be safe and for all of them to return home in one piece.

 Her prayer didn't change even when she witnessed the soldiers of Cathel disposing of bodies over a pile of already rotting corpses.

 The stench circled the corpses as the fae mist kept it condensed. When the soldiers lit the mountain of corpses on fire, even then the mist never let the flames spread.

 The soldier laughed and waited for the pile to reduce while Mary held her tears and screams, praying in silence for the souls to find a better place.

 She still didn't find it in her to curse them, so she included their names in the prayer and wished they changed their ways before more souls suffered.

 A prayer, a god, fate, or just sheer dumb luck. As Mary opened her eyes, the mist swallowed the soldiers up and a hand rose within the flames, seeking salvation.

 Mary dashed toward the blazing mountain; the soldier's distinct noises ringing in her ear. They were still close by and the mist covered her, for now.

 The mist played tricks, or the soldiers hid under the mist. Mary didn't know and didn't care. She swallowed her screams as she dove into the fire.

 A prayer, the little spark of hope it generates; can, and did move a mountain—a mountain of flames.

 Mary dashed in and out of the flames. Her tears created a wet blanket of protection around her and the child she carried. She never stopped running, in fear of the soldiers, in fear of the fire catching up to her.

 she took shelter under a massive oak, cradling the child who had no skin and dangled by a thread, choosing to live or end his suffering.

 Mary pleaded for his name, trying to convince the light that this child in her arms was worth a second chance.

 A light whisper escaped the child's lips as Mary bowed and raised to the heavens, demanding the light to glow within the child.

 "Please..." Mary begged. "Just this once, listen to me and I shall ask nothing of you again. Save this child, for he has never sinned. Save him to prove you exist, to show you protect. Save him and I shall never ask anything of you again. For he is all I desire. Please…"

"Save Ric."

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