The sky was burning.
Thick clouds of ash fell like strange snow, covering the broken battlefield beneath a red sun. The air smelled sharp with smoke and burning stone. The sounds of fighting had long stopped.
Aric, the Hero of the Empire, knelt on the cracked ground. His armor was broken and blackened from many hits. His sword was heavy and dull in his shaking hand. Every breath was hard and short. Blood dripped from his cracked lip onto the dirt.
Across from him stood the Demon Lord, tall and still like a statue made of shadow and fire. His eyes burned bright, glowing yellow under a dark pair of horns.
"Is that all?" The demon's voice was quiet and calm. Almost bored. There was a strange sadness in his tone.
Aric did not answer. What could he say? He had trained and fought for this moment all his life. But now, he was broken and losing.
The Demon Lord walked slowly toward him, his heavy boots making loud sounds on the broken stones. He looked down at Aric.
"Four heroes… and none of you could kill me." His voice was cold but with a little amusement. "Now only you remain, Hero Aric. What should I do with you?"
Pain burned in Aric's body. Every part of him screamed to stop. But his mind was strong.
I can't die here. I am the last hero. If I fall now, who will protect the Empire? Who will protect the people?
But he knew that The Demon Lord had already killed the other three heroes without mercy. There was no way of surviving here.
Aric's hands gripped his sword tightly. His legs shook, but he looked up to meet the demon's fierce eyes.
"Demon Lord… tell me something." His voice was weak but steady.
The demon's eyes looked sharp, curious.
"Why haven't you taken over the empire yet?" Aric asked, trying to smile despite the pain. "You knew you could easily destroy us. You have ten commanders working under you, each stronger than any of us heros. Each commands an army ready to fight. So why haven't you taken over the Empire?"
For a long moment, no one spoke. The world seemed to hold its breath.
Then the Demon Lord laughed—a deep, quiet sound that grew louder. It was not a happy laugh, more like a bored sigh.
"Hah. You understand me well, hero."
He stepped closer slowly. A smile showed his sharp teeth even in the dark.
"Very well. Here is my answer." The demon's voice became soft, like a secret. "I will let you live—this time."
Aric's eyes opened wide, feeling both hope and pain.
"Come back when you are stronger. Fight me again. Make this interesting for me."
The words hit Aric like a blow.
Make this interesting, huh?
The Demon Lord's eyes shone with something dark and dangerous.
"If you want to save your empire," he said, turning away, "then get stronger. Survive. Come back. Make me feel something."
And just like that, the Demon Lord disappeared into smoke and fire—leaving a broken hero behind and the start of something far darker than war.
Aric lay on the ground for a long time, breathing hard. The battlefield was quiet except for the soft crackle of dying fires. His mind was full of questions, doubts, and a small but stubborn fire inside.
I will come back.
I will grow stronger.
I will end this.
But for now, he had to survive.
And survive he would—no matter what.