The endless hands reached for him like starving ghosts, stretching from every crack and crevice. No matter how many Daemon slashed down, they just kept crawling back — twitching, writhing, gripping.
The king's voice boomed, ragged and furious, rattling the bones still clinging to his ancient armor.
"You must die, Demon king!"
His sword cleaved the air, wild and desperate.
"I will not allow it! You won't rise as him — as the Demon King! I won't let this world suffer again!"
Daemon ducked the swing, his blade colliding with the king's steel, sparks screeching off the edge. The recoil shook his bones, but his hands tightened on the hilt. His heartbeat was steady. His blood was boiling.
"Funny," Daemon hissed, twisting the sword and forcing the king back a step.
"You don't even know me. You don't know what I'll become. You just want to wear the title 'hero' so badly you're willing to erase anything that threatens it."
