The morning after the funeral was gray. Ash drifted lazily through the air, settling on roofs and leaves alike, a ghostly reminder of the night before. The village was quieter than ever—children clung to their parents, warriors sharpened blades with empty eyes, and even the wolves prowled with lowered heads.
The goblins were alive, but they were not whole.
Luminus floated at the edge of the forest, overlooking the scarred battlefield. His crimson eyes scanned the devastation. He could feel the faint traces of magic still lingering—the echo of Zerath's roots, the scorch marks of adventurer spells, and deeper still, something else.
Something foreign.
His liquid body pulsed faintly as he considered it. That battle hadn't been just an attack. It had been a test. The adventurers had fought like men carrying out orders, not mercenaries. Someone higher had sent them here.
The thought left him uneasy. If this was only the beginning, how many more would he have to fight?
---
**Elira's Shadow**
Behind him, footsteps crunched softly. He didn't need to turn to know who it was.
"You linger," Elira said, her voice calm but probing.
Luminus's crimson gaze flicked toward her. She stood in her white-and-gold robes, staff in hand, the faint light around her body contrasting the darkness of the battlefield. Her beauty was striking, but her presence was heavier than her frame should allow.
"You came again," he said flatly.
"Should I not?" she asked.
"You are of the Church," he replied. "The same Church that calls me an abomination."
Elira's lips pressed together, but she didn't deny it. She stepped closer, her sandals brushing ash aside.
"I told you before," she said quietly, "I am not blind. Yesterday… I saw the goblins weep for their fallen. I saw wolves carry their dead. And I saw you—" she paused, eyes narrowing—"weeping in silence."
Luminus's form rippled faintly. "…And what of it?"
"It makes you different." Her staff tapped the earth softly. "You are not what the scriptures describe. You protect. You feel. You lead. That is not the nature of a monster."
Luminus regarded her silently for a long time.
"And yet," he said at last, "your people will still come. More adventurers. More soldiers. To them, it does not matter what I feel. Only what I am."
Elira's grip tightened on her staff. "…That may be true."
"Then why are you here?" Luminus asked, his voice sharper. "Why walk willingly into the den of the very thing your Church despises?"
Her expression flickered with something—fear, maybe, or doubt—but she stood her ground.
"Because if I turn away," she whispered, "then I am no better than the priests who ordered this slaughter. I would rather face damnation beside truth than salvation built on lies."
---
**The Seeds of Distrust**
Their conversation did not go unnoticed. From the tree line, Mira watched with narrowed eyes, her hand never straying far from her blade. Tarin perched silently in the branches above her, his bowstring taut.
"She shouldn't be here," Mira hissed under her breath. "Priestess or not, she's one of them."
"She hasn't drawn her weapon," Tarin murmured. "And Luminus hasn't ordered her away."
Mira scowled. "That's exactly what worries me. He trusts too easily."
Tarin's gaze flicked back to Elira, his sharp eyes reading her body language. "No… not trust. Curiosity."
Mira gave him a sideways glance.
"Think, Mira. He doesn't see her as an ally. He's studying her, the same way he studies us. He's trying to understand what role she will play."
Mira's jaw tightened, but she said nothing more.
---
**The Priestess's Resolve**
Later that day, when the goblins gathered to rebuild the palisade walls, Elira wandered the village. Everywhere she looked, wary eyes followed her. Mothers pulled their children close. Warriors rested their hands on weapons. Even the wolves growled low as she passed.
And yet… she did not flinch.
Instead, she knelt beside goblins struggling with injuries, whispering soft prayers. Her staff glowed faintly, and cuts began to knit, bruises faded, fevers eased. The goblins did not thank her at first, only stared in disbelief.
But when a mother saw her child rise with clear eyes again, she fell to her knees, sobbing with gratitude. Soon, others approached—hesitant, but desperate for aid.
From the shadows, Mira scowled. "She's weaving herself into their hearts."
Beside her, Zerath rumbled like shifting trees. "And is that not… what you fear?"
Mira spun toward him. "You would trust her?"
The forest guardian's eyes glowed faintly. "I trust… what I see. Her light does not burn. It mends. That is rare, even among humans."
Mira turned back toward Elira, unease coiling in her chest.
---
**A King's Burden**
That evening, as the goblins settled into uneasy sleep, Luminus retreated to the heart of the village. The pyre's ashes still smoldered, sending faint spirals of smoke into the sky. He hovered before it, silent.
Elira approached again, but this time she did not speak. She only stood beside him, her hands folded over her staff. For a long time, neither broke the silence.
Finally, Luminus spoke.
"You said the forest whispers a name for me."
Elira's gaze flicked toward him. "…Yes."
"Demon Lord," he said, his voice low.
The words seemed to shiver in the night air.
"You understand, then," Elira murmured.
Luminus's crimson eyes glowed faintly. "I do. And I know what it means. To the Church, to the kingdoms, even to my own people… it is a name that inspires both fear and reverence. It is a name that changes everything."
Elira studied him for a moment. "Do you reject it?"
His body pulsed faintly, rippling like disturbed water. "…No. But neither do I embrace it. Not yet."
She tilted her head. "Then what do you seek?"
He stared at the ashes. "…Time. Enough time to build something worth protecting. Enough strength to ensure that when the Church comes again, I will not watch my people burn."
Elira's lips curved into the faintest smile. "Then you and I are not so different."
Luminus turned toward her, his crimson eyes narrowing. "…Explain."
She tightened her grip on her staff. "I, too, want time. Time to seek the truth of the Church. Time to see if the light I serve is truly divine—or merely the shadow of men."
Their eyes locked—slime and priestess, monster and human. Between them stretched a gulf of mistrust, yet beneath it… something unspoken stirred.
---
**The Whisper of Evolution**
That night, when Luminus finally drifted into the quiet of his inner core, he felt something stir within him.
A voice—not the Great Sage, not any familiar system—something deeper. Ancient.
*"You weep for them. You burn for them. You would bear their sins as your own. Such is the heart of a king… and the seed of a Demon Lord."*
His body pulsed violently, magic surging through him in waves. Images flashed before him—his goblins, his wolves, Mira's fierce loyalty, Zerath's roots, Elira's unwavering eyes.
Power coiled inside him, waiting. Not demanding, not forcing, but offering.
A choice.
Luminus steadied himself. *Not yet,* he thought. *I will not rush this path. Not until my people are ready.*
The voice faded, leaving only silence. But the seed had been planted.
To Be Continued…