The skies were painted crimson red, as it bled fire.
Ash rained from above as it drifted like snowflakes across the battlefield that was littered with broken weapons and human corpses.
Once upon a time, this land was a beautiful green valley nestled at the foot of Mount Velaria. It was the land of the continent's finest academy, where laughter was heard from every corner as the students practiced their eye catching movements and beautiful spells. It was not the official training ground, yet students still liked to practice here.
"Ugh.. Such beautiful land has turned into a scorched graveyard... What a waste."
Kael muttered quietly as he was half buried under a pile of rubble and heavy corpses. His breath was ragged, and he took in the disgusting air of the battlefield with a wheeze.
Another chunk of rubble fell on top of his head again, yet he barely felt it. His sense of pain had dulled into numbness hours ago. Or maybe it had been days.
He wasn't sure anymore.
Massive black cracks were stretched across the skies, as if reality itself had been torn. Through them, an endless amount of dark beings were poured onto the battlefield.
High up in the sky, floating like a god atop the battlefield stood HIM.
The Demon King.
A being of pure malice and wrath, he was cloaked in his obsidian armor that was etched with crimson runes that pulsed as if it were his veins. His horns twisted like blades toward the heavens, and his eyes burned red with hatred and malice. In one hand, he held a glaive taller than a man. The tip was now different than it was before. Now, it was forged with the bones of the heroes.
Beneath him and his empire consisting of dark beings, all humans had died along with hope.
"Why did he target us humans? We have no treasure great enough for him to go after.."
Kael muttered to himself again as he looked up to the Demon King with a mix of emotions—hatred, fear and confusion.
The Seven Lights had stood tall once, the greatest prodigies and heroes that the world has ever known. But now...
They're all dead. Kael had watched them fall. He hadn't fought alongside them—he hadn't been worthy after all, he was just a mere unknown knight. He'd been a nobody, even in the academy. He was nothing but a background student, tucked in the corner rows, attending lectures he barely passed, hiding his trembling hands during combat trials.
But then, Kael suddenly remembered. He remembered his fellow knight's final scream as his sword was shattered against the dark soldier that the demon king had summoned.
And Kael remembered running. Not out of cowardice. Out of instinct. Out of terror. Out of the bitter truth that he could do nothing.
The Demon King now surveyed the battlefield. Around him rose his empire, twisted creatures birthed from darkness itself. There were all sorts of creatures, and then his Twelve Hands, his most elite lieutenants.
One of the Hands, a winged wraith with a maw that split its face into four directions hovered near the Demon King's shoulder menacingly.
It spoke in a language that Kael could not quite understand. Kael observed very well, as he had good sight. At least he had an advantage over other people. The Demon King didn't respond immediately to whatever the lieutenant had said. But after a while, his gaze slowly moved across the battlefield.
Then, he stopped.
Kael's blood ran cold and he felt an undeniable emotion—fear.
The Demon King was looking directly at him. Kael tried to shrink back into the corpses and took a deep breath. He then held his breath afterwards, trying not to make any further noise. His heart was beating like crazy, almost as if he was a middle schooler asking his crush out.
But the being spoke. Not in it's language which the lieutenant had spoken in, but in human language.
"How did you survive until here? I can clearly tell that you are a total weakling."
The Demon King spoke, voice low and layered. His voice echoed across dimensions.
"Are you perhaps one of the heroes? Or did you just get lucky?"
The Demon King spoke again. Yet, Kael was quiet hiding under the corpses and rubble even though he was already caught. Even though Kael wanted to move and run, he couldn't.
All he could do now is just hide in hopes of being killed fast.
He wanted to speak against the demon king. To scream. To deny.
But all he could do was whisper:
"I don't want to die..."
Then, the demon king raised his glaive.
A final strike to end humanity.
The world seemed to hold its breath, almost as if time stopped.
And then—it shattered.
Not the glaive nor Kael,
The world.