The next morning, the training field north of Valladolid was filled with the sound of clashing metal. Beastkin trained alongside forest elves. Kurin, the underground dwarven race, repaired weapons and built siege towers from recycled metal. And the demon mages of the Nerath Valley summoned fire not to burn, but to warm refugee camps. There were no longer any divisions between races. Now all were divided into two: those who wanted to live, and those who wanted to wipe out the different. Vulc reported directly to my conference room. "Three small towns in the east have declared neutrality. But our spies say the Order is forcing them to send troops within a week, or be considered enemies." "You know what that means," I said quietly. "Neutrality is no longer allowed in a world riven by fanaticism."
"And their people?" Lysette asked, sitting at the far end of the room, wrapping herself in a worn cloak. "They will be victims, unless someone stands between them and the sword," I answered softly. That night, I was alone in the enclosure—a magically sealed room beneath the tallest tower. Only here could I see the old memories that had been sealed away by the spell-rejection spell I had cast myself, years ago when I was reincarnated as Raelzar. But now… I had to remember. In the center of the room, a magic circle lit up. And slowly, the scene reappeared. Flames burned the ruins of the holy city of Saraneth. The body of Arven, who I had once called myself, lay in a pool of blood in the middle of the temple courtyard. All around me, the knights of the Order of Light stared at me… with a hatred that was not theirs before.
Seraphine stood before them. But at that time, she had not yet worn the sacred crown. She was still the maiden of my friend's ceremony. My lover. "Forgive me, Arven… but you are too dangerous." "I saved this world!" I shouted at that time. "I killed the Demon King for you!" "That is precisely why," her voice trembled, "you are worshipped more than prophets. More trusted than holy scriptures. And that… is a threat to the divine order." I laughed bitterly, blood dripping from my lips. "So because I did the right thing… you call me a blasphemer?" "All great men… must be eliminated before their shadows swallow the light," said another voice. It was the voice of the old High Priest Maltheon who hid behind holy scriptures but whose hands were covered in blood.
And there I died. Betrayed by the man I called brother, burned by the people I once called home. And there… the ancient magic of the Demon King I killed took effect. A curse. A legacy. My body was destroyed, but my soul… was reborn as the one I once fought. As Raelzar, the New Demon King. I fell from the magic circle. My breath hitched. Tears flowed, not from grief, but from the anger I had long harbored now demanding a place. Lysette was already at the door, her face pale.
"Did you see?" I asked, my voice hoarse. He nodded. "So that's… what happened." "I didn't want to be a demon," I said. "But the world forced me to be the end of their fairy tale." He stared at me for a long moment, then said softly, "Then let us write a new fairy tale. An honest one. One not painted with fake holy blood." I stood up. And in the distance, trumpets sounded. Scouts sent word: The Order of Light's forces were marching east toward the neutral city of Arvellis. The time of choice had come. That night, as the troops gathered and the warhorses were blessed by the wizard Kurin, I stood before them. There was no banner. Only one symbol: an open hand with three scars, a symbol of hope, suffering, and determination.
"No more waiting," I said. "Tomorrow morning, we are not attacking. We are saving." I looked up at the night sky. There were no stars. Only clouds and darkness. But I knew… The light born from darkness, will be more dazzling than the sun.