Ch. 3 — Ashes of Loyalty

The city was no longer whole.

The walls still stood, the gates still closed, but unity—the true defense,was crumbling. Soldiers patrolled with sharper eyes, not only for demons, but for their own neighbors. Civilians walked in tense clusters, their whispers sharper than blades.

In the barracks, two camps had formed. One swore by Arata’s fire, calling him humanity’s only hope. The other spat his name like poison, demanding he be exiled before his flame consumed them all.

It was no longer hidden. It was no longer whispers.

It was open.

Arata walked through the base courtyard, sunglasses masking the faint glow of his Draconic Eyes. The soldiers he passed stiffened, some saluting, others glaring openly. His crimson coat trailed behind him, heavy with dust from the night’s battles.

He let the corner of his mouth quirk faintly. “—Looks like the fan club’s split into Vip and ‘burn him alive’ tiers. ”

A rock flew past his shoulder, clattering against the wall. He didn’t flinch. Slowly, he angled his head.

A young soldier stood rigid, face pale but defiant. “You’re not one of us. You’re a weapon waiting to turn on your masters. ”

The courtyard froze.

Arata tilted his head, thin smile curling sharp. “Masters, huh? Cute. But you’ve got it twisted. I don’t take orders from anyone. ”

The soldier’s hand trembled on his blade. The others watched—some nodding in grim approval, others looking away in shame.

Arata sighed, slipping his hands into his coat pockets. “—Relax. If I wanted this city ash, I wouldn’t be cracking jokes with you. I’d be lighting the match. ”

His words cut, heavy and true. But instead of easing tension, they deepened the divide. Some lowered their eyes, ashamed. Others whispered louder, convinced.

Arata walked on, leaving the silence behind him. His let out a small, lopsided smile lingered, but inside, the flame in his chest twisted with unease.

The Council Chamber was louder than ever.

Generals and governors shouted across the steel table, maps scattered, reports ignored. Their arguments weren’t about supply lines or fortifications anymore. They were about loyalty.

“He’s dividing our soldiers. ” one officer snapped, slamming a fist on the table. “Every man who follows him is one less who follows our chain of command. ”

Another shot back, “Those same men are alive because of him. You want unity? You won’t have a city left to unify without the flame holding the line. ”

Voices tangled, chairs scraped, accusations flew.

At the head of the table, Commander Aris stood rigid, her arms folded, her jaw tight. Her eyes cut across the room, sharp enough to silence, but the arguing always resumed.

Arata leaned lazily against the wall in the shadows, arms crossed, gave a dry tilt of the mouth faint behind his shades. “—Gotta say, for people who hate me, you sure spend a lot of time talking about me. ”

Half the chamber turned, glares sharp as blades.

“You’re the reason we’re divided. ”

“You corrupt our men with fear. ”

“You’re a demon in crimson skin. ”

Arata chuckled darkly. “Guess that makes me popular. Didn’t know I was auditioning for villain of the year. ”

Aris slammed her palm against the table, the crack silencing the room. “Enough. ” Her voice rang like steel. “Argue later if you must. For now, listen. ”

The chamber quieted—barely.

She held up a sealed dispatch, her expression grim. “Scouts have reported movement in the ruins east of here. Not hordes. Not a general. Something else. Something—organized. ”

Aris’s eyes narrowed. “We don’t know what it is yet. But one thing is certain—division will kill us faster than demons. If this city tears itself apart now, we won’t stand a chance. ”

Her words cut heavy, silencing the murmurs.

In the shadows, Arata’s a faint smirk faded slightly. Organized, huh? That’s never good news.

The eastern outskirts were quiet. Too quiet.

A squad of scouts moved through the ruins, blades drawn, eyes sharp. The wind carried only ash and dust, the skeletal remains of buildings looming like watchful sentinels.

“Nothing here, ” one muttered. “Command’s overreacting again. ”

Another shook his head, grip tightening on his spear. “No. The air’s wrong. Feels like—something’s watching us. ”

He was right.

From the shadows of a broken tower, a figure stepped forward.

Tall. Slim. His skin pale as moonlight, his hair dark and sleek, his eyes gleaming with crimson cunning. Unlike the generals, he wore no monstrous armor, no claws bared. Instead, he looked almost human—too human. His smile was calm, disarming, but wrong in a way that chilled the blood.

“Lost, are we? ” the figure asked softly, his voice smooth as silk.

The scouts froze, blades snapping up.

“Identify yourself. ” their captain barked.

The man tilted his head, his smile widening. “I already have. In your minds. ”

A ripple passed through the squad. Several soldiers gasped, clutching their heads. Whispers slithered into their ears, words not their own.

He’s the monster—He’s the danger. Arata will burn us all.

The captain roared, “Hold your ground. ” but his men’s eyes were already clouding crimson, their grips faltering.

The figure spread his arms as if welcoming them. “You humans break so easily. Fear is the sharpest blade. Let me sharpen it for you. ”

The corrupted soldiers shifted their blades—not on the figure, but on their captain.

His eyes widened. “No—wait,. ”

Steel flashed. Screams tore the night.

And above it all, the demon lieutenant’s calm voice whispered like a curse carried by the wind.

“The immortal flame will fall—not by our claws but by yours. ”

The gates creaked open at dawn.

The surviving scouts stumbled inside, their armor scorched, their eyes darkened by exhaustion. The city welcomed them with relief—until the whispers began.

“They said he’s the danger. ”

“The flame draws the demons to us. ”

“They saw it with their own eyes. ”

The rumor spread faster than fire in dry grass. By midday, the markets buzzed with it. By evening, soldiers muttered it under their breath.

And by nightfall, even the Council Chamber couldn’t ignore it.

Arata stood on the training field, his katana slicing clean arcs through the air. The sweat on his skin glistened, steam rising faintly as if his body couldn’t contain the heat inside. He sheathed the blade with a sharp click, exhaling hard.

Then he noticed them.

A ring of soldiers stood around the field, watching. Not training. Not speaking. Just watching.

Their eyes were wary. Some hands gripped blades too tightly. Others whispered low, voices sharp enough for his Draconic Eyes to catch.

“—He attracts them. ”

“—He’s cursed. ”

“—If he loses control, we’re finished. ”

Arata adjusted his shades, let the corner of his mouth quirk faint. “—Hell of an audience. What’s the ticket price—fear or hate? ”

No one laughed. The silence pressed heavy.

Arata’s grin tightened, though his chest burned with unease. This isn’t normal fear. It’s sharper. Planted.

He pivoted on his heel, crimson coat flaring, and strode off the field. But even as he left, the whispers followed, spreading like smoke.

That night, he found Aris in the command office. She was hunched over reports, her face shadowed with fatigue.

“They’re turning on me faster than usual, ” Arata said, leaning against the doorframe.

Aris’s eyes flicked up, sharp but weary. “I’ve noticed. ”

“It’s not just fear, ” Arata pressed, voice low. “Someone’s feeding it. Twisting it. I can feel it. ”

Her jaw tightened. “—You think it’s demons. ”

“I don’t think, ” Arata muttered, his Draconic Eyes flaring faintly crimson. “I know. ”

Aris stared at him, silence heavy between them. Then she closed the report and rose, her hand on her saber.

“Then we hunt the lie before it consumes us. ”

Flame ripped through the ruins, shredding shadows into ash. For a heartbeat, the whispers quieted.

The lieutenant stepped back, his calm mask wavering. His crimson eyes narrowed, then gleamed again with cunning. “So the flame still burns through lies. Impressive—but can you strike when you don’t know what’s real? ”

He raised both hands. The ruins bent, the air twisting like warped glass. Arata’s Draconic Eyes flared crimson-white, catching fragments of truth beneath the storm.

The lieutenant was everywhere. Ten shadows moved at once, each striking with blades of black fire.

Arata grinned, blood dripping from his lip. “Finally. A challenge worth swinging for. ”

He surged forward, katana blazing. His blade cut through the first illusion—then the second, the third. Each dissolved into smoke, but every false strike left wounds that burned as if real. His chest heaved, pain sharp, but his grin never broke.

“—Come on. If you’re gonna trick me, at least hit harder. ”

Behind him, Aris fought her own storm. Dozens of illusions rushed her—friends, soldiers, even her own reflection, each swinging with merciless precision. Her saber clashed, steel screaming. Sweat streaked her brow, her teeth grit.

They’re not real. They’re not real.

But every cut burned. Every wound felt sharp. Her vision blurred as the whispers clawed at her ears.

“Commander, ” a voice hissed—her own voice, from the mouth of an illusion. “You can’t trust him. Kill the flame before he burns you too. ”

Her saber wavered.

“Aris. ” Arata’s voice tore through the storm. “Don’t listen. Look at me—not them. ”

Her eyes snapped to him. He stood bloodied, blazing, tearing illusions apart with feral strikes. His defiance was raw, reckless, but alive.

Aris steadied her breath, her grip firming. “Right. ”

She cut her reflection down in a single arc, its body splitting into smoke.

The lieutenant clicked his tongue, his calm smile cracking. “Stubborn humans. Always clinging to defiance when they should surrender. ”

Arata a dry tilt of the mouth, katana burning hotter, cracks glowing white along the steel. “—Yeah, well. stubborn’s kind of my whole thing. ”

The ruins shook as Arata tore through the storm of illusions.

Every shadow lunged at once—burning children, twisted soldiers, faceless demons screaming his name. His Draconic Eyes blazed crimson-white, cutting the lies apart. His katana roared, fire and wind spiraling, each strike carving through falsehoods until only one presence remained.

The lieutenant.

Arata’s blade slammed against his, sparks and black fire exploding. The impact cracked the ground, sent rubble flying. The lieutenant’s calm mask finally shattered, his smile twisting into a snarl.

“You shouldn’t see through me—”

Arata’s grin cut him off, sharp and bloodied. “Newsflash—your tricks don’t work on someone who already hates himself more than you ever could. ”

He roared, katana flaring with molten light, and struck.

The lieutenant’s blade shattered. Black fire screamed as the demon’s body split, dissolving into shadow. But before the flames consumed him, his voice slithered into Arata’s mind, soft and poisonous.

“You burn too hot, flame. They will never trust you. And when their fear outweighs their need—they’ll end you themselves. ”

The last of his form melted into smoke, leaving only whispers in the night.

Aris staggered, blood streaking her arm, but her saber was still steady. She looked at Arata—scorched, bloodied, his katana cracked but still burning faintly.

“—You did it, ” she said.

Arata slid his blade into its sheath with a sharp click, his let the corner of his mouth quirk faint but alive. “Yeah. Except he’s not wrong. ”

Aris frowned. “What do you mean? ”

He tilted his head back, eyes glowing faintly behind the shades. “—He didn’t have to make me doubt. That part was already there. ”

The night breeze carried his words away.

Aris said nothing. She knew the truth: the lieutenant hadn’t needed to kill him. Just plant the seed. And that seed was already growing.

Far in the ruins, the Crowned Demon watched through the black flame, lips curling in satisfaction.

“Good. Let him burn brighter. The hotter the fire, the sooner it consumes itself. ”

The shadows roared in laughter.

The immortal flame still burned—

But doubt now licked at its edges like a second fire.