Ch. 9: Part 3 — The Crowned Demon’s March

Flames erupted around him, spiraling upward, consuming the air. The ground cracked, molten rivers bursting from beneath his feet.

The Crowned Demon’s golden eyes narrowed, his grin sharper. “Yes—burn, flame. Burn until nothing remains. ”

Aris stepped forward, saber steady despite the blood trailing down her arm. Her voice rang clear above the storm.

“Not alone. We end him—together. ”

Arata glanced at her, a tight half-smile curved sharper. “—Heh. Guess I can share the spotlight, just this once. ”

And with that, the final battle began.

The street became a battlefield of gods.

Arata surged forward, his katana blazing white-hot, fire trailing like a comet’s tail. Aris flanked him, her saber flashing silver arcs that split through streams of black fire. Together, they struck like storm and lightning—unstoppable, relentless.

But the Crowned Demon did not falter.

His blade of shadow met every strike, sparks of gold and crimson erupting with each clash. Black fire poured outward, swallowing streets, twisting buildings into charred husks. His golden eyes glowed with cruel amusement, his voice rolling above the chaos.

“Look around you, flame. Every step you take devours what little remains of their city. Every ember proves me right. ”

Soldiers clung to the walls, shields raised against the shockwaves. Civilians huddled in alleys, eyes wide as they watched fire and shadow tear their world apart.

“—That’s no savior. ”

“—Both of them will destroy us. ”

“—Monster versus demon. nothing more. ”

Their whispers coiled through the smoke, heavy and sharp.

Arata’s chest heaved, his let the corner of his mouth quirk curved faint, but his Draconic Eyes flickered with something heavier. Doesn’t matter how many I save—they’ll never see me as anything else.

Aris cut through a wave of shadows aimed for him, her voice raw as she shouted over the roar.

“Arata. Ignore them. Focus on him. ”

But the Crowned Demon laughed, golden eyes gleaming brighter.

“Yes—listen to them, flame. Their words burn sharper than my blade. They would sooner kill you than thank you. Why fight for those who wish you gone? ”

His blade swung wide, black fire splitting the earth. Arata deflected, flames bursting outward in a torrent that lit the night—but his thin smile faltered, blood dripping from his lip.

Aris’s saber clashed against the demon’s, sparks cutting through smoke. She shoved him back, her voice fierce, desperate.

“Arata. Don’t listen. You’re not fighting for them—you’re fighting for us. ”

Arata froze for a heartbeat, his gaze flicking to her, fire reflecting in her steel-blue eyes.

“—Heh. ” His let out a small, lopsided smile returned, sharper, steadier. “Guess you’re right. If I’ve gotta burn. might as well do it with some company. ”

His katana roared, fire spiraling higher, pushing back the tide of shadow.

The city shook under the clash.

The city quaked under their fury.

Every clash between Arata and the Crowned Demon ripped shockwaves through the streets. Towers collapsed into rubble, fire and shadow clawed at the sky, turning night into chaos.

But Arata wasn’t holding back anymore.

His katana burned brighter than it ever had, cracks glowing like molten veins. Each swing left streaks of white flame that lingered in the air, refusing to fade. The fire spread wider, hotter, until even the demons nearby hesitated to approach.

“—This is it, ” he muttered, gave a faint smirk curved sharp, dangerous. “No more chains. No more restraint. ”

Aris’s chest tightened. She recognized the look in his Draconic Eyes—the same look he had when he first accepted the cursed flame.

“Arata—what are you doing? ”

He grinned, blood at his lip. “—Using what I swore I wouldn’t. ”

He raised his katana high, fire curling into a spiral around him, devouring the ground, the air, even the light. The technique he had buried, the one he knew could consume everything—man, demon, city alike.

The Dragon’s Pyre.

The Crowned Demon’s golden eyes widened, then gleamed with cruel delight.

“Yes—burn it all. Unleash the fire even you fear. When it consumes, they’ll know you for what you truly are. ”

He raised his blade of shadow, laughter echoing as black fire swelled to meet the storm.

The heat seared Aris’s skin even from meters away. She staggered, breath burning, but her voice cut sharp through the inferno.

“Arata. If you release that here—you’ll kill them all. ”

He a faint smirk faintly, his voice low, steady. “—Then maybe they’ll finally be right about me. ”

She darted forward, grabbing his arm, her grip iron despite the fire scorching her hand. Her voice cracked, fierce, desperate.

“Damn them. Forget the council, forget their curses—fight for me. If you burn, I burn with you. But don’t let him win by turning you into what they fear. ”

For a heartbeat, the fire trembled.

Arata’s Draconic Eyes flickered, crimson-white caught between fury and something heavier. He stared at her, fire roaring around him, and for the first time, his let the corner of his mouth quirk broke into something almost human.

“—Heh. You’re a real idiot, Aris. ”

The fire wavered, the Dragon’s Pyre hanging on the edge of release.

The Crowned Demon saw the hesitation—and struck.

His blade of black fire cleaved through the inferno, faster than lightning, aimed not for Arata but for Aris. The ground cracked, shadows devouring the air as the killing blow descended.

Aris’s eyes widened, her saber lifting too late.

“Aris. ”

Arata moved before thought.

The Dragon’s Pyre shattered around him, flames imploding as he lunged. His katana intercepted the blow, sparks exploding, molten fire spraying into the night. The force hurled him back, blood spraying from his lips, but the strike missed her throat by inches.

He staggered, chest heaving, crimson coat torn and smoking. His thin smile curved faint, sharp through the blood.

“—Tch. Should’ve known you’d aim for my weak spot. ”

“Yes—protect her. Burn yourself for her. Every wound you take ties you tighter to despair. When she falls, flame, you will break beyond repair. ”

He raised his blade again, shadows writhing like serpents ready to strike.

Aris gritted her teeth, fury blazing in her eyes. She stepped to Arata’s side, her saber raised, her voice fierce.

“I’m not your weakness, Arata. I’m your shield. You fight—I’ll keep him off you. ”

Arata let out a small, lopsided smile faintly, blood dripping from his chin, his Draconic Eyes blazing crimson-white behind his shades.

“—Heh. Guess I don’t get to argue with that. ”

The Crowned Demon sneered, shadows coiling tighter, golden eyes burning hotter.

“Then let us see how long a shield lasts against the abyss. ”

The streets became a furnace of fire and shadow.

Arata swung his katana in wide arcs, every strike a torrent of molten flame that tore demons to ash and forced the Crowned Demon back step by step. Aris moved with him, her saber flashing silver, intercepting the black fire that slipped past his guard.

For the first time, the tide shifted.

Their rhythm was seamless—his raw fury, her precise steel. Flame and blade, destruction and control, moving as one.

Aris deflected a slash that would have split Arata’s ribs, sparks showering across her face. She pivoted, driving her saber into the demon’s arm, forcing him to recoil with a snarl.

Arata gave a faint smirk through blood, his Draconic Eyes blazing. “—Heh. Not bad. Starting to keep up with me. ”

She shot him a glare, chest heaving. “Shut up and swing harder. ”

He laughed, fire roaring higher as his katana carved another molten arc through the air.

The Crowned Demon’s grin did not falter, though his golden eyes narrowed with sharp delight.

“Yes—fight together. Burn yourselves for each other. Every moment you last only makes your end sweeter. ”

He unleashed a wave of black fire that swallowed half the district. Buildings crumbled into ash, the ground split open, screams rising from the ruins.

Arata roared, his firestorm clashing against the tide. The collision lit the night brighter than dawn, the shockwave shattering what little remained of the streets.

On the walls, soldiers and civilians clung to the ruins, watching with wide, trembling eyes.

“—They’re pushing him back. ”

“—But the city’s gone. ”

“—If this is salvation, it’s worse than death. ”

Their whispers fed the Crowned Demon even as he faltered, every word a blade aimed at Arata’s chest.

Arata stood in the wreckage, his katana blazing, his body trembling from blood loss. He a wry smile faintly, sharp through the pain.

“—Doesn’t matter if they hate me. As long as you’re standing with me, Aris—” he lifted his blade, fire spiraling higher “—I’ll burn this bastard down. ”

The flames roared louder, the city shaking under the weight of their resolve.

For the first time, the Crowned Demon took a step back.

The air trembled as the Crowned Demon shifted, bones cracking beneath obsidian skin. His golden crown bent unnaturally, merging with blackened flames that twisted into spiked wings, each feather a blade of molten shadow.

“Now you’ll see true power, ” he hissed, voice like a thousand screams echoing at once.

Arata’s eyes flared, the Draconic Fire within him burning hotter than ever. He tightened his grip on the katana, feeling the pulse of energy beneath his fingertips, a rhythm that matched his heartbeat.

Aris stepped forward, saber raised, eyes blazing with steel. “Don’t let him scare you, Arata. We’re the storm that will burn him down. ”

The Crowned Demon laughed, a sound that ripped the night sky. He swung one massive arm, tearing chunks of the ruined city into the air, turning them into missiles of jagged stone and fire.

Arata leaped, katana slicing through a projectile, molten fire searing the air. Sparks rained down, each impact echoing like thunder. He could feel the power surging inside him, raw and untamed, calling for release.

“Arata—now. ” Aris shouted, slashing at the demon’s side, drawing black blood that hissed in the night.

Arata roared, fire enveloping him like a living thing. His form blurred, a streak of molten gold and crimson as he launched forward, merging his flame with the arc of his katana. The strike collided with the demon’s wing, sending a shockwave that shattered nearby walls and flipped the ground.

The demon staggered, claws scraping stone. For the first time, he was on the defensive.

Arata’s vision narrowed, world reduced to the beat of his heart and the heat of the fire. “—This ends tonight. ”

He drew a deep breath, feeling the surge of power that would either burn them all or deliver victory.

The city, the people, the stakes—they were all behind him. Every scar, every loss, every fight had led to this moment.

The demon snarled, dragging itself upright with one clawed hand, its golden crown now melted and fused to its skull. “Fools—you think you can stop me? ” Its voice, a chorus of agony and malice, shook the air.

Aris’s grip tightened on her saber. “We already have. You won’t terrorize this world any longer. ”

Suddenly, the ground beneath them cracked open, and a pulse of dark energy surged from the fissures, rippling across the battlefield. Arata staggered, barely keeping balance, as the air thickened with malice.

“Arata—look. ” Aris shouted, pointing to the demon’s chest. A dark, pulsating core, almost like a black sun, glowed brighter with each second.

Arata’s mind raced. That core—if destroyed, the demon could be defeated. But the energy it emitted was unlike anything he had ever felt; even a touch could incinerate him.

He clenched his fists, flames rising around him. “Then we end this—together. ”

Aris nodded, her eyes steel-sharp. “Together. ”

With a synchronized leap, they launched toward the demon. Arata’s fire surged into a blinding aura, Aris’s saber tracing arcs of pure energy. They struck the core simultaneously—the clash creating an explosion of light and shadow that threw both combatants back.

The shockwave tore through the city, turning steel beams into molten rivers. Windows shattered, and the ground splintered as if reality itself was bending to the force of their combined will.

From the edge of the devastation, Arata caught a glimpse of something unexpected: the demon’s eyes flickered, not with anger, but with a strange recognition. A whisper, almost human, echoed in the wind:

Arata’s heart skipped. This fight—it wasn’t just about strength. Something deeper, something buried in the demon’s past, was surfacing.

Aris landed beside him, panting but unyielding. “Did you see that? ”

Arata nodded, his gaze fixed on the enemy. “Yes—and it changes everything. ”

The flames around him surged, brighter than ever, reflecting the storm of emotion—anger, determination, fear, and something more—understanding.

The battle was far from over. But in that moment, Arata realized: to truly defeat this enemy, he couldn’t just rely on fire and steel. He had to understand the darkness as well as conquer it.

The black core pulsed violently, each beat like a drum of doom. Arata could feel it in his chest, a resonance that called to him, whispering secrets in a language older than the world. He staggered, heat and sweat mixing with the metallic taste of tension.

“Arata—something’s wrong, ” Aris said, her voice cutting through the chaos, but not panic—more warning. “It’s speaking to you. ”

The demon’s eyes, now glowing faintly gold beneath the charred crown, fixated on Arata. Its voice, hoarse but oddly human, reached his mind:

“You—were always meant to find me. ”

Arata froze. His flames flickered uncertainly, responding to the presence inside him. It wasn’t anger, not yet. It was memory—pain, loss, and a truth he hadn’t realized. The demon’s crown, its power—it wasn’t just destruction. It was a prison.

Aris stepped closer, sword raised, but even she sensed the strange tension. “Arata, focus. Don’t let it manipulate you. ”

Arata shook his head, gripping his fists. “I—I have to know. ” Flames danced along his arms, not attacking, but wrapping him in light, like armor for his mind. “Why. are you here? ”

The demon’s body trembled, shadows writhing across its form. “Because—I am part of you. ”

Aris’s eyes widened. “What—what do you mean? ”

Arata’s vision blurred. Images flashed—memories not his own. A boy, a city burning, a crown of gold fused to blackened flesh. A fire—a promise. a life erased.

“I—I remember now, ” Arata whispered, voice cracking. “This crown—this power—it’s from the First Flame. It was meant to protect, not destroy. And I. ”

The demon stepped forward, staggering but deliberate. “And you—you carry it now. The choice is yours: wield it as a weapon. or embrace what it truly is. ”

A wave of energy exploded outward, yet this time it was different—not chaotic, not violent. It pulsed with a strange harmony, syncing with Arata’s heartbeat. The flames around him roared higher, more controlled, more alive.

Aris watched, astonished. “I’ve never seen fire like that—”

Arata extended his hand toward the demon. “I won’t fight you—not as an enemy. ” His voice held authority and compassion intertwined. “I will end the suffering but not by destroying you. ”

The demon’s eyes narrowed, studying him, darkness and light entwined. Then, slowly, it lowered its clawed hand. The black core dimmed slightly, revealing veins of gold. “Then—we shall see if a man can bear what a god once could. ”

Lightning crackled, wind howled, and the city trembled—but this time, it was anticipation, not fear.

Arata’s flames coiled around him like serpents of molten light, but inside, his mind was clear. This fight would not just decide victory or defeat—it would determine the destiny of the First Flame itself.

And deep inside, he knew: no matter what happened next, he would not face it alone.

The air crackled with tension, electric and oppressive. The black-and-gold demon stepped forward, and the shadows around it twisted like living ink. Its wings—once hidden, now fully unfurled—stretched wide, casting darkness over the city streets below.

Arata’s flames pulsed in response, synchronized with his heartbeat, each flicker a signal of life, defiance, and determination. “I won’t let you harm anyone anymore, ” he shouted. “Not like this, not ever. ”

The demon’s roar shattered the silence, a sound that was both terrifying and strangely melodic. “Then prove it, boy. Show me the strength of your human heart. ”

The demon lunged. Its claws, black as obsidian, aimed for Arata, but he was ready. Flames erupted from his hands, forming whips of molten light that wrapped around the attack, deflecting it with a resonant boom. Sparks flew, and the ground beneath them cracked from the force.

“Not bad, ” the demon hissed, stepping back. “But can you withstand what comes next? ”

Aris gasped. “He—he’s controlling it. Not destroying it. ”

“Yes, ” Arata said, stepping closer to the demon, hand outstretched. “We can end this together. Let go of the pain—the hatred and be free. ”

The demon paused, its form flickering between darkness and light. Then, with a tremor that shook the ground, it lowered its head. The black crown shattered, scattering like embers in the wind, leaving behind only golden light.

Arata felt a pulse of warmth, sorrow, and relief all at once. The First Flame, once corrupted, now sang with clarity. Its roar was no longer one of destruction, but of rebirth.

Aris smiled, lowering her blade. “We did it—together. ”

Arata exhaled, exhaustion and exhilaration mingling. “This—is only the beginning. But at least now, we’ve reclaimed the flame. ”

The city lay in silence, a fragile calm after the storm. Smoke curled from shattered rooftops, and the golden light of Arata’s First Flame bathed the streets in a warm glow, pushing back the lingering shadows.

Arata dropped to his knees, sweat and ash streaking his face. His hands still burned faintly, the power of the First Flame pulsing through every nerve, every muscle. Yet within the fire’s warmth, he felt something strange—restlessness, a whisper of challenge that had not been answered.

“Arata, ” Aris said, kneeling beside him, her voice steady yet concerned. “Are you—okay? That was—incredible. ”

“I’m fine, ” he replied, though the exhaustion weighed heavily on him. “But—the First Flame it’s stronger than I imagined. I can feel it, almost like it’s alive. watching me, testing me. ”

Suddenly, a flicker in the shadows caught his eye. Not from the demon they had just defeated, but from somewhere deeper, colder. Arata’s flames flared instinctively, licking outward in a protective arc.

From the darkness, a figure emerged, clad in black armor with silver edges that reflected the firelight. Its eyes glowed with an unnatural crimson, and a cloak like liquid shadow trailed behind it.

“You survived, ” the figure said, voice calm but menacing. “I wondered if the boy chosen by the First Flame would have the strength—but you surpassed my expectations. ”

Arata rose, flames coiling around his arms like serpents ready to strike. “Who are you? What do you want? ”

The figure tilted its head, a cruel smile forming. “I am the one who has waited for the Flame to awaken. I am the trial you must face—not just power, but the truth of your heart. Only then will the Flame reach its true potential. ”

Aris stepped forward, blade gleaming. “Another one? Seriously? We just fought a demon king, and now—what are you, some shadow knight? ”

The figure laughed softly, a sound that made the hairs on their necks stand on end. “Call me what you wish. I am the reflection of the fire you seek to control, the balance you have yet to understand. Defeat me—and perhaps you will finally see your true self. ”

Arata’s grip tightened around the flames, energy thrumming beneath his skin. “I won’t run. Not anymore. If this is a test—I’ll face it head-on. ”

“You are strong, ” the shadow knight said, parrying a strike of molten fire. “But strength alone is meaningless without purpose. Can you balance the fire within with the world around you? ”

Arata’s mind sharpened, recalling the lives he had saved, the city he fought to protect, the people who believed in him. His flames shifted, no longer wild, but fluid, adaptive, weaving around his strikes and defenses.

“You will see, ” he said, voice low but determined. “I am not just a boy with fire. I am Arata. And I will master this flame—every last spark. ”

The shadow knight’s eyes glinted with interest. “Very well—then let the trial continue. ”

Flames and shadows danced violently, lightning-fast strikes meeting molten whips. The air crackled, glass shattered, and the streets themselves seemed to tremble under the raw, concentrated power of their battle.

Aris watched, awe and fear mingling in her gaze. “He’s—he’s actually keeping up. And controlling it. ”

Arata’s vision blurred with heat and energy, but he forced himself to center, feeling the rhythm of the fire pulse in time with his heartbeat. Not just power—control. Not just instinct. understanding.

He swung both arms, summoning a torrent of flame that spiraled outward in a dazzling display, illuminating every cracked wall, every shattered window. The shadow knight blocked, but the energy rattled him, leaving streaks of his shadowed cloak torn and frayed.

“You’ve improved since the beginning, ” the knight said, stepping back. “But improvement alone will not be enough. Face the flame within you—the truth you deny. ”

Arata froze for a fraction of a second. Memories, fears, doubts—all rose to the surface. The streets he had failed to save. The screams he could not stop. Every loss, every mistake. The fire pulsed angrily, sensing his hesitation.

“No, ” he growled, eyes blazing. “I am not my failures. I am Arata. And the First Flame—will not be controlled by fear. ”

With that, the fire surged, bright as the sun, wrapping around him like a cloak of molten gold. Shadows screamed and recoiled, the air itself bending under the sheer heat of the blaze. The shadow knight staggered, his crimson eyes widening, recognizing the intensity of the awakening power.

Arata moved forward, every step a declaration, every swing of flame a strike of purpose. This is my strength. This is my resolve.

The knight’s voice trembled slightly, a rare hint of surprise. “You—you are more than a boy with fire. You are. a beacon. ”

Arata inhaled, the heat licking his lungs, the fire thrumming against his chest. Then I’ll face it. All of it. No holding back.

He clenched his fists, letting the flames surge higher, brighter, purer. His power was no longer merely defensive or reactionary—it was deliberate, intentional, a reflection of every choice, every resolve, every lesson he had endured.

And with that, he surged forward, the flames ahead of him like a roaring storm, and struck the shadow knight with the full force of his heart, the truth of his courage burning brighter than the First Flame itself.

The knight staggered, shadows scattering into fragments, as the force of Arata’s conviction reshaped the battlefield.

This was not just a fight for survival anymore. It was the beginning of mastery.

The air trembled, molten heat shimmering against the blackened ruins. Arata’s flames roared like a living entity, . . . , unstable under Arata’s brilliance.

“You—you are no ordinary flame wielder, ” the knight said, staggering backward. “You carry the weight of everything, and yet—” He stopped, sensing the truth in Arata’s blaze. “Yet you do not falter. ”

Arata’s fists burned, molten and brilliant. He struck, . . . , pushing shadows back into the cracks of the ruined streets.

“You’ve learned, ” the knight whispered, almost reverently, the darkness around him wavering. “But mastery—mastery requires choice. Will you burn to destroy, or burn to protect? ”

Arata’s eyes burned with certainty. “I burn to protect. ”

With that, the fire surged outward, not as a weapon of destruction, but as a shield of resolve, a radiance that cleared the battlefield. Shadows dissolved like mist under the morning sun, the knight’s power disintegrating into shards that scattered across the scorched stones.

The knight fell to one knee, his silhouette shrinking in the afterglow of Arata’s flames. “You—are worthy, ” he murmured. “The First Flame recognizes you as its master. ”

Arata lowered his fists, breathing heavily, the fire dimming but still warm around him. He looked around the destroyed district, the remnants of shadows fading, and realized the weight he carried had shifted. No longer was he merely a boy fighting for survival. He was a beacon, a force that could shape destiny.

“This—is only the beginning, ” he whispered, eyes reflecting the golden embers of his victory.

The city, scarred but alive, seemed to exhale alongside him. A new dawn approached, fragile yet promising, as if acknowledging the birth of a guardian within its ruins.