The echoes of the battle still haunted Kael's mind long after the flames of the Citadel had dimmed. His blade had tasted the fury of countless demons, and yet he knew—deep down—that they had only begun to scratch the surface of the abyss that loomed ahead.
The Citadel, though broken, was not empty. Its halls reeked of sulfur and ash, the stones blackened with demonic corruption that bled into every crack. The survivors—soldiers, slayers, and mages—moved quietly, as if afraid that raising their voices might awaken something far worse than what they had already faced.
Kael stood atop the ruined battlements, gazing out into the night sky. Storm clouds churned, purple lightning crawling across them like veins of an angry god. The mist that hung over the battlefield was thick, swallowing sound, swallowing hope.
Behind him, footsteps approached. It was Selene. Her robes were torn, stained with blood that wasn't entirely human, and her staff flickered faintly with the last embers of a protective spell.
"You haven't slept," she said quietly, her eyes narrowing as she joined him on the wall.
Kael shook his head. "I can't. Every time I close my eyes, I see them. The way they moved—their numbers… Selene, that was no random attack. That was a test."
She tightened her grip on her staff. "You think the Demon King is measuring our strength."
"I don't think," Kael replied grimly. "I know."
For a long moment, silence stretched between them. The wind howled through the broken stone, carrying with it faint whispers—voices that didn't belong to the living. It was enough to make the soldiers below mutter prayers beneath their breath.
Finally, Selene spoke again. "We swore an oath when we joined this war. To protect the realm. To stand against the abyss. But what happens when the abyss keeps growing? How many more citadels will fall before we admit that we are losing?"
Kael's jaw tightened. His voice was low, but iron. "We cannot lose. If we falter now, everything ends. You know this."
Selene studied him, as if searching for cracks in his resolve. Instead, she found something colder—something carved into him by battles and blood. "You're changing, Kael. Every fight makes you harder. Colder. You're not the same boy who entered the Slayer's trials."
"Maybe that's what it takes to kill demons," he said, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade.
But even as he spoke the words, a shadow stirred at the edges of his mind. He remembered the first demon he had killed—how human it had looked when it bled out in his arms. He remembered the hesitation, the fear that lingered even now. Was he becoming what he fought?
Before he could answer that thought, horns blared through the night.
The camp came alive in an instant. Soldiers rushed to the walls, torches flared, and the rumble of drums echoed from the darkness beyond the Citadel. Kael and Selene exchanged a look—grim understanding—before descending into the courtyard.
The scouts returned, breathless and pale. "They're coming," one stammered. "An army of them. Bigger than before. They've brought… things with them."
The commander of the Citadel, an old warrior named Varic, barked orders. "Archers to the wall! Slayers, prepare your marks! Mages, form your circles!"
Kael gripped his blade. This was no longer defense. This was survival.
The ground trembled as the first wave approached. Out of the mist came demons—towering beasts with claws like sickles and eyes that burned like coals. Behind them slithered shadows, formless and writhing, feeding off the fear of men.
But worse still were the hulking constructs—demons fused with metal, chains wrapped around their limbs as if even Hell itself had tried to restrain them. Their roars shook the stones of the Citadel.
The battle erupted like thunder.
Arrows streaked the sky, fireballs crackled from mage circles, and the clash of steel against claws filled the air. Kael waded into the fray, his blade glowing faintly with the light of the ancient runes etched along its length. Each swing cut through demon flesh, sending shadows scattering like smoke in wind.
Selene fought beside him, her staff striking the ground to release waves of light that burned through the dark. For every demon they struck down, three more seemed to take its place. The walls shook. Men screamed. The Citadel groaned under the weight of the siege.
Then came the voice.
It wasn't heard with ears but felt in the marrow of their bones. A voice deep, mocking, and heavy with malice.
"Slayers. So fragile. So desperate. Do you think your walls will save you?"
Kael staggered, clutching his head as the voice seeped into his mind. Around him, soldiers faltered, some dropping their weapons as despair clawed at their souls.
Selene gritted her teeth, forcing her magic into a barrier. "It's him. One of the Demon King's lieutenants."
And then he appeared.
A figure emerged from the ranks of demons, cloaked in shadow. His armor was blackened steel, jagged and cruel, and his eyes glowed with violet fire. A blade, long and wicked, hung from his hand.
"The Citadel is nothing but kindling," the lieutenant said, his voice dripping with contempt. "And you, Kael, are but a spark waiting to die out."
Kael felt fury ignite within him. "You know my name?"
The lieutenant smiled cruelly. "The King watches you. He knows your strength. And he knows your weakness. You fight like a demon because part of you already belongs to us."
For a moment, Kael faltered. Was it true? Was he becoming the very thing he sought to destroy?
But then Selene's voice rang out, firm and clear. "Don't listen, Kael! Demons twist the truth to break us. Remember who you are!"
Her words snapped him back. He tightened his grip on his blade. "I'll show you who I am."
The lieutenant laughed, raising his weapon. "Then come, Slayer. Let's see if your spark can burn the dark."
They clashed in the heart of the battlefield. The force of their blows sent shockwaves rippling through stone and flesh alike. Kael's strikes were fast, fueled by desperation and rage, but the lieutenant moved with terrifying precision, every counterstrike aiming for Kael's heart.
The battle raged around them, but all Kael saw was his enemy. All he heard was the pounding of his own heart and the scrape of steel against steel.
At last, with a roar, Kael unleashed a strike that cleaved through the lieutenant's armor. Black blood sprayed, hissing as it hit the ground. The demon staggered but did not fall. Instead, he grinned, even as his wound smoked.
"This is only the beginning," he hissed. "The King awaits. And when he comes… your world will drown in shadow."
Before Kael could finish him, the lieutenant dissolved into mist, retreating into the storm.
The demons, sensing their leader's departure, pulled back, vanishing into the night as suddenly as they had come. The battlefield fell silent, broken only by the groans of the wounded and the crackle of fire.
Kael sank to one knee, exhausted, his blade buried in the earth. Around him, the Citadel still stood—but barely.
Selene knelt beside him. "You fought well. But his words—"
"I know what he said," Kael interrupted, his voice hoarse. "And maybe he's right. Maybe there's darkness in me. But if that's true, then I'll use it. I'll turn it against them until nothing remains."
He rose slowly, his eyes burning with new resolve. "The oath we swore wasn't just words. It's our purpose. Even if the abyss grows, we'll face it. Until the end."
Selene touched his arm, her expression softer now. "Then we keep going. Together."
Kael nodded. His path was far from over. The Citadel was only one battle in a war that stretched across kingdoms, across souls.
And somewhere beyond the storm, the Demon King was watching.