Before the invasion
Winter hummed absently as he walked across the rolling fields, his thoughts elsewhere. The tune had been lingering for a while, enough to make Weeping Phantom sigh in irritation as she followed behind. "Why are you humming for so damned long?" she muttered, her voice edged with annoyance.
Winter glanced back at her, spear resting casually over his shoulder. "It's just… that Grace girl from a few days ago," he admitted. "The whole thing was so sudden. Who was she? And why did she even do what she did?"
Weeping Phantom shrugged, narrowing her eyes at him. "Why are you asking me like I'd know? How am I supposed to understand how you humans think?"
"You do realize you're half-human, right?" Winter countered, raising an eyebrow.
Her eyes rolled instantly. "But I wasn't raised by human culture. So what's your point?"
Winter opened his mouth, ready to argue, then stopped short when no retort came. He clicked his tongue and muttered, "Fair point," before turning back around and continuing his walk. His gaze shifted forward. This time, the portal wasn't hidden in a cavern, beneath ruins, or deep in the woods. It was tucked away in plain sight—right in the middle of an open field. A clever trick. Most wouldn't bother wandering so far out into a stretch of empty land with no reason.
"How close are we?" Winter asked, his tone sharpening as his hand tightened around the haft of his spear.
Weeping Phantom scanned the distance, her eyes narrowing before she pointed toward a small rise ahead. "Just over that hill."
Winter gave a short nod. He slid his spear forward into his grip, preparing himself. Another portal to destroy, another crack in the demons' advance. Together they crossed the swaying grass, and as their feet touched the unseen threshold of the illusion, the air shifted. The transition rippled through him, and when the field peeled away, Winter's eyes went wide.
It wasn't a mere cluster of demons waiting idly around a rift. It was a fully structured encampment—an invasion force. Tents arranged in neat lines, supply carts being hauled from place to place, demons sharpening weapons and stacking crates. The entire site thrummed with preparation and discipline. It looked like a war camp pulled straight out of five centuries past.
"Would you look at that?" Weeping Phantom gave a low whistle, taking in the sight with folded arms. "They actually managed to organize properly for once." Her gaze swept across the ranks, sharp and searching. "Which means one thing…" Her eyes stopped, locking onto a single figure. "Bingo."
The one she noticed stood apart—a towering knight clad in immaculate white plate armor, his frame imposing under its weight. A long halberd rested in his gauntleted hands as he patrolled the grounds. The instant his gaze found them, the surrounding demons turned as well, snarling and growling, their forms tensing with aggression. But then, as their eyes fell on Weeping Phantom, the mood shifted. Snarls faltered, replaced by hesitation and puzzled looks.
The knight strode forward, halberd glinting under the daylight. His voice was steady, commanding. "We are not scheduled to invade yet." His eyes slid past Winter and fixed on Weeping Phantom. "My Lady, what are you doing here?"
Weeping Phantom raised a finger toward Winter without hesitation. "He's holding me hostage."
The knight's gaze sharpened. "Is that so?" He lowered the halberd, angling the weapon toward Winter's chest. "Leave our Lady with us and walk away. The invasion is not yet begun."
Winter shook his head slowly, bringing his spear up and pointing the tip straight at the knight. His stance firmed, eyes hard. "It doesn't matter when the invasion starts," he said, voice cold and steady. "I'm putting an end to it."
At Winter's words, the demon knight lunged forward in a blur, the tip of his halberd driving straight for Winter's chest. Winter slid his lead foot back and snapped his spear across his body, catching the thrust along the metal shaft with a sharp screech of metal grinding against metal. Without pause, he shifted his grip and whipped the opposite end of the spear up and around in a blistering arc toward the knight's helmet—so fast that even Weeping Phantom's sharp eyes struggled to follow it.
The strike should have caved in his helm, but a deafening clang rang out instead. Winter's eyes narrowed as the knight had twisted his halberd just in time, catching the blow along its reinforced metal haft. The impact rattled across the camp like a struck anvil. Winter tilted his head slightly, a flicker of surprise breaking his composure. "Okay… not going to be easy then," he muttered, forcing his weight forward.
Steel ground against steel as the two locked weapons. Winter shoved, the muscles in his arms and shoulders tightening as he drove the knight back several steps. The surrounding demons scattered out of the way, creating a wide circle as the Chosen One and the knight squared off in the center of the camp.
The knight's voice cut through the noise, steady and unshaken. "I know who you are. Winter—the Chosen One. So you are still alive."
Winter gave a short, humorless laugh. "Oh? Someone who realizes and isn't terrified? That's new."
The knight responded with action, his halberd cutting down in a powerful overhead strike. Winter slid his stance wide and brought his spear up, the clash ringing sharp as he absorbed the blow. The knight immediately followed with a brutal shoulder bash, armor crashing forward like a ram. Winter twisted his body just enough for the charge to glance past, the air bursting with the force of the miss.
Spinning on his heel, the knight swept the halberd low in a sweeping arc aimed for Winter's legs. Winter slammed the butt of his spear into the dirt, bracing it like a steel post, the halberd's blade skidding off with sparks spraying from the impact. Using the planted spear as leverage, Winter vaulted forward, fist cocked back. He drove it toward the knight's helm in a straight, unflinching punch.
The knight, quick as ever, lifted his gauntleted right hand and caught the blow square-on. The camp shook with the impact—like thunder cracking in the open air. The ground beneath them cratered slightly from the sheer force of Winter's strike, dirt spraying outward, yet the knight held firm, unmoved, his stance anchored as though rooted into the earth itself.
Winter drew a sharp breath, his thoughts racing. *This guy… he reminds me of Ercale's generals. That's not a very good thing.*
Across the ring of demons, Weeping Phantom's lips curved upward ever so slightly. *He's actually giving him a fight. Maybe I can finally be free of that man!*
The knight's voice rumbled low, his hand still pressed against Winter's fist. "You are holding back against me."
Winter exhaled slowly, shoulders dropping as his expression hardened. "I was." He pulled his arm back, gathering power, his palm beginning to draw on his magic.
But before he could release it, the portal behind them suddenly flared with a violent glow. The sky overhead churned black, clouds twisting unnaturally as a bloody rain began to fall. Each drop was silent, staining nothing, soaking nothing—yet carrying a weight that made the world itself feel wrong.
Winter froze mid-motion, every nerve in his body recognizing what this omen meant. His eyes shifted from the knight to the portal, jaw tight. He knew what was coming. Slowly, he turned, spear still in hand, and fixed his gaze on the rift as he waited. A Demon Lord was about to emerge.