EP - 3 - THE JOURNEY TO THE PALACE

The night passed without incident. A sharp, early cold wrapped the world in silence as the sky turned indigo. At precisely 4:00 AM, the Master stirred from sleep.

The forest was still. The air hung with tension.

Surrounding him stood his four demons—Rage, Love, Pity, Strength—silent and vigilant, still in perfect formation from the night before.

“You didn’t rest?” the Master asked softly.

Strength replied with calm dignity. “We demons do not sleep, Master. Not unless we are wounded… or defeated in battle.”

The Master nodded slowly, his voice lost in thought. “I see…”

Strength stepped forward with respect.

“Master. As tradition demands, a commander shall be chosen. I recommend Rage. He is hot-headed… but his leadership in war is unmatched.”

Immediately, Love interrupted.

“That would be foolish.”

His tone wasn’t angry—but dangerously composed. His glowing eyes never left Rage’s.

“Rage leads with impulse. A true commander must lead with love. With protection.”

The Master sighed internally. “Of course… they’d oppose each other.” He finally saw what was obvious: Rage and Love would always conflict. Opposites. Fire and ice.

As the two bickered, the Master raised his voice—not in anger, but in command.

“Enough. You fight like children.”

Both demons froze. Embarrassed. And for the first time… ashamed.

They bowed slightly.

“Forgive us, Master,” Rage muttered.

“We meant no disrespect,” Love added.

Yet despite their apologies, the tension between them remained.

But the Master wasn’t listening anymore.

His eyes had grown distant… his mind fading from the moment.

He saw her again.

The girl. The same beautiful girl from the vision before. She smiled. Her eyes were soft. Her voice unheard, but comforting.

Warmth spread in his chest.

And then—another face appeared.

A man in a black mask. His presence… unnatural. Twisted. Wrong.

And as this image surfaced—

Love groaned. Loudly.

His aura surged. His hands trembled.

Then, with a flick of his wrist, he sent Rage flying through four trees. No rage. Just… violent instinct.

Rage stood up, gritting his teeth.

But the moment the Master thought of the masked man again, Rage suddenly screamed in agony.

He clutched his chest, his aura spiraling out of control.

“RAAAGHHH!”

The snow cracked beneath his feet.

Pity turned, shocked. Strength tensed. Love stood still.

The Master stared, confused—and then frightened.

He stepped forward—but then a shadow moved beneath Rage.

It pulsed. Warped. Twisted.

And from it… a new demon rose.

[Subordinate Demon: ANGER] Rank: C++

A creature of clenched fists and boiling eyes. Silent. Still.

The Master whispered, “Is he yours?”

Rage, through his pain, barely nodded. “He… is my shadow. My… pain made form…”

The Master looked at Anger—who dropped to one knee, saying nothing.

Then Strength stepped forward and explained, his voice as steady as the earth.

“Master… the more powerful the emotion… the stronger the demon it creates.”

“But if an emotion spikes suddenly… especially one that is negative… it becomes unstable.”

“And if that surge is strong enough,” he added, looking even at Love, “even the positive emotions… can break.”

The Master nodded slowly, digesting the information.

He turned back to Rage.

Seeing him suffer stirred something again.

Not strategy.

Not fear.

But care.

The Master whispered: “Relief.”

Immediately, Rage’s pain stopped.

He dropped to one knee, panting… grateful.

“You… you saved me… again.”

The silence was broken by the rustle of leaves. Hooves. Steel.

A group of adventurers emerged from the mountain pass, cloaked in worn leathers and metal.

One of them looked at the Master—and dropped to his knees.

Then, the others followed.

“Forgive us… we didn’t know…”

They bowed deeply, one of them even touching the feet of Strength.

The Master blinked. Strength nodded in understanding.

“It is their culture,” he explained. “To show respect to the emotion they serve. They worship strength. So they bow… to me.”

One of the adventurers stepped forward.

“We were sent… by the King,” he said carefully. “He has heard of your arrival. He wishes to see you…”

The Master didn’t respond.

Because even before the adventurer finished speaking—he noticed something.

Movement.

Bushes shifted. Shadows flickered.

Swordsmen. Circling. Camouflaged.

The Master’s gaze hardened.

“It’s a trap.”

Suddenly, a sharp whistle cut through the air.

The ambush was triggered.

Guards leapt from all sides, weapons raised.

But they never made it close.

“Vanish, little brats,” Rage said casually.

With that, half of them collapsed—crushed by sheer pressure.

Love walked among them, his aura glowing soft pink.

He smiled… and whispered sweet words.

Each soldier dropped their blade.

Then dropped to their knees.

Then to their deaths—emotionally dissolved, consumed by their own fears, regrets, and lost dreams.

It was not mercy.

It was the most brutal way to die.

The Master looked on, disturbed. Was this… truly what he commanded?

The battle raged. Emotion and steel clashing under the dawn sky.

Only a few guards remained.

Then— the forest fell silent.

Because something… arrived.

No footsteps.

No sound.

Just a presence.

A darkness.

Even Strength’s hands trembled. Even Love stopped smiling. Even Rage took a step back.

And for the first time ever—

The demons said nothing.

But in their eyes, it was written clearly:

“Oh no.”