Chapter 1 Chains of Defiance

The battle was in its final moments. The Demon Lord’s castle had been breached, and the sounds of clashing swords and erupting magic rang through its crumbling walls.

At the heart of the fortress stood the Demon Lord himself — exhausted, nearly drained of magic, and worn down, cornered like a wounded beast. Before him stood the heroes, just as battered and worn out, their breaths ragged from the long fight.

Then the Demon Lord screamed, unleashing a war cry that shook the throne room. A blood-red aura burst forth around him, surging like fire as though this was his final, desperate resort.

Logan’s eyes widened. “Something doesn’t feel right! Be ready for anything!”

The Demon Lord stomped down, causing the ground to crack. The stone flooring bent and buckled under the tremor. The heroes lost their balance, collapsing to the ground—except for the fairy Elyndra and the angel Thamiel, who remained hovering in the air.

With a burst of speed, the Demon Lord charged straight for Lyssara, the elf, who had fallen to her knees. He cocked his massive fist back and hurled a devastating punch at her—only for it to be stopped by an ethereal barrier conjured by Thamiel.

But the shield began to crack under the strain. Fractures spread across the barrier, and then it shattered as the Demon Lord’s fist pushed through.

Durog, the dwarf, rushed in just in time. His shield intercepted the blow, halting it for a second. Then a surge of magic exploded on impact, blasting Durog across the room. He slammed into the wall, partially embedded in the stone.

At that same moment, Logan came down from the side in a heavy strike, his sword glowing brightly with holy energy. The blade cleaved into the Demon Lord’s extended arm. The limb fell to the ground in a spray of black blood.

But the Demon Lord did not stop. With his remaining hand, he seized Logan and ruthlessly slammed him into the stone floor again and again, the impact shaking the throne room. Then he hurled Logan into Thamiel just as the angel was finishing a massive incantation, breaking his concentration. Both crashed to the ground.

Elyndra, having just finished healing Durog, darted toward Logan. She spiraled around him, scattering her glittering dust that mended his wounds and allowed him to regain his focus.

But the Demon Lord was already closing in. Relief came when Lyssara fired an arrow that pierced his eye. But the relief was short-lived — the monster did not slow. He raised his fist high, ready to crush them.

Then, suddenly, he froze. His body locked in place, unmoving.

Logan pushed himself up, his instincts screaming. Seizing the moment, he drove his sword through the Demon Lord’s chest. Yet something was wrong. There was no scream. No movement. No blood.

Then Logan noticed. The Demon Lord had already died. His body had carried out its final charge, burning the last of its life force, dying mid-strike.

Logan pulled his sword free as the Demon Lord’s body stood stiff, like a lifeless statue.

Durog burst into laughter. “Ha! That was unexpected.”

Lyssara shook her head, her voice weary. “In the end, he fought like a wounded beast. Luckily he died when he did — or we could have been in serious trouble.”

Thamiel stepped forward,
“Everyone, move back. I will burn it so nothing remains of this evil being.”

The Thamiel began to chant, light gathering in his hands. With a woosh, a pillar of flame roared to life, engulfing the Demon Lord’s body. When the fire faded, nothing was left but a pile of ash.

Elyndra’s soft voice broke the silence. “What now?”

“What else?” Durog bellowed. “We celebrate!”

Logan slid his holy blade back into its sheath. “That can come later. First, we need to clean up the battlefield. The fighting isn’t over out there.”

The party nodded. Together they pressed outward, clearing the last remnants of the demon horde. By day’s end, the battle was won.

The army marched triumphantly back to the capital, where banners were raised, horns blared, and congratulations poured forth. The temple began its preparations to return the hero to Earth.

Yet amidst the celebrations, Logan quietly slipped away, drawn back to where he truly felt he belonged. But before he could leave, he was confronted by his companions.

Thamiel stepped into his path, wings spread, voice edged with distrust. “And where do you think you are going? You are to return home tomorrow.”

Logan looked at his party, then sighed. “I don’t plan on going back. I will stay here. I have my reasons.”

Elyndra spoke, her tone worried. “But… won’t you miss your home world?”

Logan’s face emotionless. “No. Earth—my so-called home—is a horrible place. On the surface it may look good, but when you grow older you realize everything you were taught is a lie. You struggle your whole life while those at the top control everything. It’s not a place worth returning to.”

The fairy lowered her gaze, her wings drooping as she looked at him with quiet worry, no longer wishing for him to leave.

Thamiel’s eyes narrowed. His voice rang with arrogance. “Then you leave us no choice. We will stop you here and force you to return home.”

Durog grunted in irritation, glaring at Thamiel. “You always were an arrogant prick. Who said we would help you? I’d rather see Logan stay here. So you’re on your own in this.” With that, the dwarf hefted his axe over his shoulder and turned away, walking off into the night.

Lyssara met Logan’s gaze. She said nothing, only nodding once, as though she understood the true reason he wanted to stay. Without a word, she vanished into the darkness, her form fading into the shadows.

Elyndra fluttered between them, her wings trembling as she raised her voice. “Please… don’t fight! We’re all friends here, aren’t we?”

Thamiel’s gaze hardened, his tone sharp as steel. “Fairy, you’re either with me or against me. If you won’t help, then return to that wretched forest you call home.”

Elyndra froze, fear filling her eyes. Her lips quivered, and tears welled as she shook her head. With a sob, she darted into the night. “I’m sorry!” her voice cried, fading into the darkness.

At last, only Logan and Thamiel remained. The two stared each other down. Then, without another word, the clash began.

Magic and steel lit up the night. Explosions rang through the streets, shockwaves rattling nearby walls. Sparks of holy fire clashed against Logan’s blade, each strike resounding like thunder. The battle raged until, with a final desperate strike, Logan’s sword cut deep. Thamiel staggered, his left wing severed and blood spilling down his side as he fell to the ground.

Logan lowered his weapon, his chest heaving, and walked past the fallen angel.

Thamiel’s voice broke the silence, rising into a furious scream. “You won’t get away with this! The goddess will hear of it! I will see to it that you are sent back. You cannot go against the goddess’s will!””