Ch. 9: Part 1 — The Crowned Demon’s March

The wasteland trembled.

From the horizon rose a storm of black fire, spreading wider than the eye could follow. Drums thundered like the heartbeat of the earth itself, each strike shaking stone and sky.

The Crowned Demon marched at the head of his army, golden eyes burning, his blade of shadow dripping with molten flame. Behind him, legions stretched endless—beasts with wings like razors, giants plated in obsidian, hordes shrieking with hunger.

It was not an army.

It was the end of a world.

On the eastern wall, soldiers froze as the horizon turned black. Their voices cracked, some in awe, most in terror.

“—Gods. ”

“—There’s too many. ”

“—This isn’t a battle. It’s execution. ”

Civilians huddled in the streets, clutching children, whispering prayers to gods they no longer trusted. Bells rang, but their sound was swallowed by the drums.

And in the Council Chamber, voices rose in panic.

“They’ve come for us all. ”

“Where is Aris? Where is the flame?”

“We exiled them—there’s no one left to save us. ”

Fear clashed with regret, but it was far too late.

Far out in the wasteland, Arata stood with Aris atop a ridge of black stone. The storm of the demon horde stretched before them, endless, consuming.

Arata exhaled smoke, Arata exhaled smoke, a dry tilt of the mouth cutting across his face. . “—Heh. Guess the party finally started. ”

Aris’s hand clenched on her saber, her voice low, steady. “That’s not a battle, Arata. That’s annihilation. ”

His Draconic Eyes flared—glowed crimson-white behind the shades, burning brighter than the horizon itself. He rolled his shoulders, katana blazing in his grip.

“—Good. Been a while since I had a real fight. ”

Far below, the Crowned Demon lifted his blade high. His voice carried across the wasteland like thunder.

“Burn, humans. Your flame is gone. Your savior abandoned you. Tonight, your city falls. ”

The horde roared, the wasteland itself trembling beneath their march.

The final act had begun.

The first wave struck like a hammer.

Demon beasts hurled themselves against the eastern wall, claws carving stone, wings blotting out the sky. Obsidian giants swung clubs the size of towers, shattering battlements in single blows. Black fire rained from the heavens, setting rooftops ablaze.

The defenders broke before the assault.

“They’re everywhere—. ”

“The wall’s collapsing. ”

Arrows vanished in the swarm. Steel shattered against hides too thick to pierce. Soldiers screamed as they were dragged into the horde, their cries drowned in laughter that shook the night.

Civilians flooded the streets, panic spreading faster than fire. Mothers carried children, fathers barred doors, prayers turned to screams as demons poured into the outer district.

The city was burning.

On the ridge, Aris watched, her chest heaving as the wall cracked and fell. Her hand trembled on her saber, rage mixing with dread.

“They’ll slaughter everyone, ” she whispered. “Even if they feared you—even if they cursed you they don’t deserve this. ”

Arata exhaled smoke, his wry smile faint but sharp, bitter. “—Tch. Deserve’s got nothing to do with it. ”

He lowered his cigarette, katana blazing in his grip, Draconic Eyes burning behind his shades. “—But I’ll be damned if I let him win. ”

Far below, the Crowned Demon raised his blade, golden eyes locking onto the city with cruel joy.

“Break them. Burn their homes. Leave nothing standing but ash. ”

The horde roared, surging through the breach, their shadows devouring the streets.

Aris turned to Arata, her voice fierce, urgent. “Then we go. Together. Not for them—” her eyes burned, steady “,but to stop him. ”

Arata’s let the corner of his mouth quirk curved sharper, fire curling along his blade. “—Heh. Now you’re speaking my language. ”

And with a single step, the wasteland cracked beneath his feet.

The flame and his last shield charged toward the burning city.

The gates had already fallen.

Demons poured into the streets, tearing through homes, ripping soldiers apart in showers of blood and ash. Civilians screamed, scattering like leaves in a storm. The city that once cursed the flame now faced its end.

A roar of fire split the night as Arata burst into the fray, his katana blazing white-hot, his crimson coat trailing flame. Every swing carved molten arcs through the horde, splitting beasts in half, turning giants to ash.

“Back off, ” he growled, his thin smile sharp as his blade. “This city’s mine to burn. ”

The street became a storm of fire.

Aris followed in his wake, saber flashing like silver lightning. She struck with precision where his fire roared wild, cutting down demons that slipped past him, shielding civilians too weak to flee.

“Get to the inner gates. ” she shouted, dragging children from the fire, pushing wounded soldiers behind cover. “Move, now. ”

But even as she saved them, their eyes burned with fear—not of the demons, but of the man fighting beside her.

“—He’s worse than them. ”

“—He’ll kill us all. ”

“—The monster has come back. ”

The whispers poisoned the air louder than the screams.

On the rooftops, shadows writhed. The Crowned Demon watched from afar, golden eyes gleaming with cruel delight.

“Yes—look at them. Even as he saves them, they curse his name. Even as he burns your enemies, they only see the monster. ”

His laughter rolled with the thunder of war.

“Fight, flame. Fight until their fear consumes you. Every step you take brings you closer to your fall. ”

Arata cut down the last brute in the square, its corpse collapsing in a mountain of ash. He stood in the heart of the fire, katana glowing molten, smoke curling from his lips.

He exhaled slowly, his let out a small, lopsided smile faint, bitter. “—Save ‘em, scare ‘em. Same damn cycle. ”

Around him, soldiers and civilians huddled in the ruins, staring with wide, trembling eyes. None dared cheer. None dared thank him.

They only whispered one word.

The first clash split the night.

Arata surged forward, katana blazing white-hot, flames carving the street into molten rivers. The Crowned Demon met him head-on, his blade of black fire roaring, the ground cracking beneath the impact.

The shockwave tore through the city. Windows shattered, towers crumbled, soldiers and civilians alike were hurled to the ground.

It was not a duel. It was a storm made flesh.