"Today marks the public execution of Leon Valcrest, the Hero who once saved our kingdom."
The journalist's voice echoed through the crowd gathered in the royal plaza, every word carrying the weight of betrayal and disbelief. "The Council of Saints has found him guilty of treason and conspiracy with demonic forces. His death shall serve as an example to all who dare to defy the light of the Crown."
The crowd roared in hatred. Thousands had come to witness the fall of the man once called the Savior of Solaria.
At the center of the stage stood a man bound in heavy chains, his silver hair now dirtied and his armor rusted from days of imprisonment. Leon Valcrest, the hero of the Great War—the man who had slain the Demon Lord himself—knelt before his accusers.
His once bright blue eyes were dim, though not from fear. He lifted his head, gazing at the sky, his lips forming a faint smile. "So, this is how it ends," he murmured, almost to himself.
Beneath the wooden platform, people screamed his name not in praise but in rage. "Traitor!" "Monster!" "Burn him!"
Leon did not reply. He simply let the words pass through him like arrows that could no longer pierce. For years, he had fought for their peace. He had watched his friends die for a cause that now turned against him.
A priest stepped forward, holding a golden staff gleaming in the afternoon sun. "Leon Valcrest," he proclaimed, "you have consorted with the very evil you once destroyed. You have betrayed the gods and your fellow men. Do you have any final words before your soul is cast into the Abyss?"
Leon raised his head, his voice calm and steady. "Only one," he said softly. "Tell your gods that I regret saving their world."
A horrified murmur spread through the crowd. The priest recoiled as if struck. "Blasphemy!"
The executioner stepped forward, his blade gleaming. The people fell silent. The world itself seemed to hold its breath.
Leon closed his eyes. The wind brushed against his face, carrying the faint scent of ash and incense. For the first time in years, he felt peace.
Steel met flesh.
The crowd erupted in cheers. Blood splattered across the platform as Leon's head fell to the ground, rolling until it stopped at the priest's feet.
The Hero of Solaria was dead.
---
Darkness.
There was no light, no sound—only endless void. Leon's consciousness drifted aimlessly, free from body and time.
"So this is death," he whispered into the emptiness.
A voice answered him. Deep, resonant, and terrible.
"No. This is rebirth."
A crimson glow flickered in the distance. Leon turned toward it, though he had no form to move. The light grew, swirling into a burning sigil that pulsed like a living heart.
Then, from the flame, a figure emerged—a towering being cloaked in black, with horns that curved like blades and eyes burning gold.
"You took my life once, Hero," the being said, its voice echoing across the void. "Now, you shall live as my heir."
Leon's heart clenched. "No... I killed you. You're dead!"
The figure's laughter was low and heavy.
"When you struck me down, you took part of me into yourself. My hatred, my power, my soul. You cannot destroy what you have already become."
Flames surged, engulfing Leon completely. He screamed, but no sound escaped his lips. His being burned, shattered, and reformed all at once.
---
When he awoke, the air was thick with smoke and the smell of sulfur. The ground beneath him was blackened stone, cracked and glowing faintly with heat. Above stretched a sky of crimson and ash.
Leon rose unsteadily to his feet. His reflection shimmered faintly in a pool of molten rock nearby. His silver hair had turned black as night. His eyes, once blue, now glowed with a faint red hue. Strange markings—like molten scars—traced across his arms.
"What is this place?" he whispered.
From behind him came a voice, deep and familiar.
"Welcome to the Demon Realm, Leon Valcrest."
Leon spun around. The figure from the void stood there, its presence bending the air around it.
"You are no longer the Hero of Solaria," it said. "That name died on the scaffold. You are my blood now—heir to the throne you once destroyed."
Leon clenched his fists, trembling with anger and confusion. "I will never serve you. I will never become what you are."
The being smiled, its teeth glinting like polished steel.
"Then fight me. Defy me. But every breath you take, every thought you form, will still burn with my flame."
The words struck deep. The creature's form began to dissolve into the surrounding fire, its final words echoing long after it vanished.
"You are my legacy, Leon. Whether you wish it or not."
Silence returned. The wind howled through the desolate wasteland, carrying the faint whisper of distant screams.
Leon stood alone amid the ashes, the weight of two souls pressing inside him—the hero who had died, and the monster now reborn.
He looked up at the crimson sky, his voice barely more than a whisper.
"I don't know what I am anymore… but I'll find out. And when I do—I'll decide whose legacy I carry."