The Hell Gate
An incident where space itself was ripped asunder, allowing demons to flow into the world, was referred to as the opening of the Hell Gate.
Demonkind: fiendish, ruthless, and completely remorseless—creatures whose mere presence struck fear into humans.
How catastrophic would it be to release such beasts—much more powerful than normal beasts—upon the world in waves, unceasing and relentless?
When the first Hell Gate opened, it seemed like the end had begun. Nothing in history had ever come close to this size of a disaster. Entire towns and regions plunged into despair.
Fortune smiled, though, in the guise of a surprise discovery: demons were vulnerable to martial artists. Uniting in necessity, the best warriors from all over the Martial Alliance joined forces, sharing their skills to face the hellish threat.
Years passed, and numbers of demons dwindled. Although the wounds on the world persisted, a glimmer of hope returned. Demons could, in fact, be vanquished.
The Gates themselves, however, never entirely disappeared.
New Gates kept popping up, one by one. Martial artists came to note a peculiar characteristic: most Gates shut spontaneously after spewing out a limited quantity of demons.
Therefore, a line of swordsmen adopted the grave responsibility of guarding the Gates—a responsibility that stretched over the centuries without end.
One such clan that was entrusted with this duty was the Fireheart clan, referred to as the Sentinels of Emberhold.
But one major problem remained: demons were not just deadly—they were merciless. Where they wandered, devastation trailed behind. Towns that stayed too near a Hell Gate tended to take massive losses, with no living thing safe from destruction.
More recently, though, humanity had learned. Readiness and schooling had toned down the intensity of normal Gates.
Nevertheless, every so often, a Hell Gate would open much bigger than normal.
This True Gate of Demons opened monsters far more powerful than their usual brethren, earning its foreboding name and a terror that lasted within the hearts of all who were aware of it.
At the site of one such Gate, the leader of the Fireheart clan now stood, having finally succeeded in completing the sealing ritual as the sun fell below the horizon.
The ceremony organized in his honor was planned to be subdued, but the crowd had all the blood members in the district, so it was hardly small.
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First to shatter the silence was Loret Fireheart himself, the clan leader.
"I heard about the feat."
His response came in a gruff manner, without any build-up.
The oldest child, Rias Fireheart, was already in the Fireheart army, quietly piling up achievements. The youngest child, on the other hand, was nowhere in the district.
Obviously, Loret's remark was not aimed at them.
That only left one target: me.
"Yes, I've reached the 3rd rank thanks to slight enlightenment," Mio Fireheart replied, smiling. Her tone was polite, measured, a stark contrast to the frosty expression she had worn toward me earlier.
"You are progressing fast for your age. It's good to see. Keep it up," Father said approvingly.
"Thank you, Father," she replied with a bow.
Our gaze collided as she walked away. The brilliant smile dissolved at once, to be overpowered by a gentle scowl, as if she were examining some mere fly.
Mio was fifteen, and to have reached this kind of level at that age said a great deal about her ability and hard work.
I could not help but feel the admiration—but the heavy atmosphere caused my stomach to knot uncomfortably.
'I must have that digestive pill I acquired earlier,' I thought, as the tension in my belly registered.
The only solace was that, unlike in my old existence, I could still feed. I grabbed a steam pocket, attracted by sheer quantities of food heaped on the table. The selection was plenty enough to warp the legs of the table under their weight.
"Third child."
The one word stopped me dead in my tracks. My hand hovered over the food.
"Yes," I said, putting the steam pocket back.
Unlike his compliment to Mio, Father's comment was devoid of warmth. He just looked at me, eyes piercing and inscrutable.
Coincidence?
"I heard you were out."
"Pardon?"
Out? Was he talking about my walk before he came back?
Loret Fireheart's stare pierced me, expecting. I fought to determine the appropriate response—one that would neither annoy nor offend.
"Yes, I went out for a bit," I replied with caution, making sure not to say Isabella's name. That, I knew, would be my only genuine problem.
"Hm."
His curt answer was vague, making me wonder. Had he intended to say something more? I didn't ask. Loret didn't hang around on things very much.
The gloomy dinner lingered with the weight of unspoken tension. Each look from the visiting relatives took its toll on my appetite.
Finally, Father left, and shortly afterward, Mio went too, shooting me one last critical look.
I thought about completing the last steam pockets, but with a sigh, I put down my chopsticks. My first family dinner in years had ended quietly, uneventfully, but burdened with unforgiving silence.
I swallowed the digestive medicine I had prepared, dissolving it in warm water. Relief slowly coursed through my stomach.
Perhaps at long last I could rest for the day.
'Oh… Father told me to come to his room afterward,' I recalled.
I wondered why. He had called me here so many times in the past for trivial mischief that I could hardly guess the reason this time.
Steeling myself, I resolved to go, expecting yet another reprimand.
Just as I had finished preparing mentally:
"Young master, the Lord left a message for you: 'You don't need to come to my room.'"
Kevin departed as soon as he had delivered the note.
I was alone at the dinner table, sitting before the unfilled steam pockets, aghast, a stunned look frozen on my face.
Seriously… what is going on?