Ch. 13 — The Demon General

The air was heavy that night.

Even before the alarms, before the scouts returned breathless from the outskirts, Arata felt it. His Draconic Eyes pulsed behind the sunglasses, the horizon bending under a pressure that wasn’t natural.

He stood atop the southern wall, crimson coat snapping in the wind. Below, soldiers scrambled into formation, their voices shaky, their blades trembling in their grips.

Commander Aris joined him, her eyes sharp but her face pale. “You feel it too. ”

Arata a dry tilt of the mouth faintly, though there was no humor in it. “—Feels like the air’s about to split open. Something big’s coming. ”

The ground trembled.

A roar tore across the wasteland, so deep it rattled windows and cracked stone. Darkness spilled from the horizon—a tide of lesser demons surging forward, their claws scraping, their eyes glowing. But they weren’t the threat. They moved like a curtain, parting around something greater.

Through the swarm, a single figure walked.

He was massive, towering over the horde, his body armored in jagged bone and obsidian. Two curved horns arched from his head, eyes burning like molten gold. In one hand, he carried a cleaver the size of a truck, its edge dripping with black fire.

The soldiers gasped, some stumbling back.

Aris’s voice was a whisper. “—A general. ”

Arata’s grin widened, sharp and feral. “Finally. A real boss fight. ”

The demon general raised his cleaver, his voice booming like thunder across the battlefield.

“Flame. ” His eyes locked on Arata. “The angels forged you, but you will burn like the rest. Tonight, your city falls. ”

Fear rippled through the soldiers.

Arata slid his katana free, fire sparking along the blade. His Draconic Eyes flared, crimson-white light spilling from behind the shades. He leapt from the wall, landing with a crack that split the ground.

His voice rang out, steady and alive.

“Not tonight. ”

The battlefield erupted.

The horde slammed against the city’s defenses, claws scraping steel, wings blotting out the moon. Soldiers roared, blades flashing, shields locking. Screams and steel clashed in chaos as fire arrows streaked the night sky.

But at the center of it all—two figures moved to collide.

Arata charged across the wasteland, crimson coat trailing like fire, katana blazing with flame. The Demon General strode forward with earth-shattering steps, his cleaver dragging sparks as it cut trenches into the ground.

When they met, the world shook.

booooom.

Arata’s blade struck the cleaver in a storm of sparks and fire. The shockwave split the battlefield—soldiers and demons alike thrown off their feet as wind and dust howled outward.

Arata’s grin split his bloodied lips. “Not bad for a warmup swing. ”

The general snarled, horns gleaming in the firelight. “Arrogant wretch. ”

He swung his cleaver downward, black fire roaring. Arata’s Draconic Eyes flared—the world slowed. He sidestepped, the blade missing by a hair, then slashed upward, flame bursting along his katana.

The strike carved across the general’s chest, searing bone and armor. The giant staggered, roaring in pain and rage.

Soldiers froze, staring. A human—no, something more—had wounded a demon general.

Arata spun his blade, let the corner of his mouth quirk sharp. “Guess you’re not untouchable after all. ”

The general bellowed, black flames surging across his body. His cleaver roared as he swung in a wide arc, tearing through buildings, sending shockwaves that crushed stone.

Arata leapt high, wind propelling him upward, flames trailing in his wake. From above, his katana blazed brighter, elements intertwining. Fire, wind, earth, water—spiraling into a blazing storm.

He roared, swinging down.

“Kaze Enbu. ”

The katana struck the cleaver, flames detonating. The explosion lit the battlefield like a second sun. Lesser demons shrieked, vaporized by the shockwave. Soldiers shielded their eyes, jaws dropping.

When the smoke cleared, both warrior and general still stood—locked in a deadly stalemate.

Arata’s grin widened, feral and alive. “—Now this is a fight. ”

The battlefield burned like a second hell.

shhhk.

The flaming blade slashed across the general’s shoulder, molten sparks spraying. The giant staggered, but with a roar, his horned head lunged.

crack.

Arata caught the blow on his forearm, pain flaring white-hot. Blood spattered, but he grinned through it. “—Headbutts? Really? That’s your move? ”

The general snarled, grabbing him midair and hurling him like a ragdoll. Arata slammed through a half-collapsed tower, debris exploding around him.

Civilians hidden in the basements screamed. Soldiers faltered—until Arata rose from the rubble, crimson coat shredded, blood running down his arms, but his grin sharper than ever.

“—You hit like Kael, ” he muttered, katana dragging sparks as he stepped forward. “And I survived him. ”

The general roared, stomping forward. Shadows coiled around him, black fire condensing along his cleaver. He raised it high, chanting in a guttural tongue.

The sky split. Lightning of shadow cascaded downward, the cleaver glowing with apocalyptic force.

Soldiers gasped, some stumbling back in terror.

Arata’s Draconic Eyes burned, veins glowing white-crimson beneath his skin. He raised his blade, elements spiraling—fire and wind merging into a cyclone, water and earth grounding it into molten steel.

“Alright, ” he whispered, voice shaking with adrenaline. “—Let’s see who breaks first. ”

They struck.

booooooom.

The cleaver and katana collided in a storm that shattered the battlefield. Buildings crumbled, demons vaporized, soldiers hurled to the ground by the shockwave. Flame and shadow twisted together, a pillar of fire-black light ripping the heavens open.

At the center, Arata and the general pushed against one another, every muscle screaming, blades locked in a dead heat.

Arata’s teeth bared, his grin feral. “What’s wrong? Thought you were gonna burn me down. ”

The general’s molten eyes narrowed, rage burning hotter. “Arrogant—mortal. ”

Arata roared back, his flame surging brighter.

The battle was no longer just steel against steel—it was will against will, each strike a declaration, each clash a vow to stand unbroken.

And the city below watched, trembling, as the flame and the shadow tore the night apart.

The ground beneath them cracked and bled molten stone. Every clash of steel sent shockwaves tearing through the battlefield.

The Demon General snarled, his molten eyes narrowing. Black fire surged across his body, seeping into the cleaver until the weapon blazed like a piece of night ripped from the void.

“You are strong, flame, ” he rumbled, voice shaking the earth. “Stronger than the pawns my kin threw at you. But you are still bound by flesh. I—am not. ”

He slammed the cleaver into the ground.

The wasteland split. Black fire erupted in a wave, devouring everything in its path. Demons surged behind it, shrieking with hunger, crashing against the soldiers’ lines. Shields buckled, screams filled the night.

Arata skidded back, his Draconic Eyes blazing to keep pace with the storm. Sweat and blood streamed down his face. His grin was thin, strained.

“—Guess I’m the only one allowed to break the stage, huh? ”

He raised his katana, elements spiraling to life. Fire roared, wind screamed, water hissed, earth cracked. The blade glowed white-hot, every inch burning with lethal energy.

But even as he braced, he felt it—his body straining, his flame burning too fast. Each strike against the general was costing more than the last.

If I keep this up, I’ll tear myself apart.

The general advanced through the smoke, cleaver dripping with void fire. His grin was sharp, cruel. “I see it in your eyes. You burn bright—but flames always consume themselves. ”

Arata spat blood, his chest heaving. “—Yeah? Maybe. ”

His katana lifted higher, veins glowing with searing light. His voice cracked into a feral grin.

“But you’re gonna burn with me. ”

He surged forward. The battlefield warped around him, fire trailing like a comet. The general swung, cleaver splitting the air, shadows screaming.

Arata roared, slamming his katana against it—

boooooom.

The explosion ripped the night apart, a blinding storm of fire and shadow swallowing both warriors. Soldiers fell to their knees, shielding their eyes. The walls of the city trembled as if the earth itself cried out.

When the light faded, both still stood—but Arata was on one knee, panting, his crimson coat shredded, blood dripping from a dozen cuts. His katana glowed dangerously, cracks spreading along the steel.

The Demon General loomed above, charred but grinning, cleaver still burning black.

“—Not enough, ” he hissed. “You cannot kill me. ”

Arata raised his head slowly, his thin smile faint but alive. “—Then I’ll just have to go beyond ‘enough. ’”

His Draconic Eyes focused—flared, crimson-white light burning brighter than ever.

The storm of flame and shadow finally broke.

For a heartbeat, the battlefield was silent—only the hiss of molten stone and the crackle of fire filled the night. Then the sound came.

craaack.

The Demon General’s cleaver split in two, shattering like brittle glass. His monstrous body staggered, molten veins bursting with light. His golden eyes widened in disbelief.

“—Impossible. ” he rasped, black fire leaking from his chest. “No mortal—no flame—should wield such power. ”

Arata stood before him, katana still glowing, his body trembling violently. Blood dripped from a dozen wounds, steam rising from his skin as if he were burning himself alive from within. His grin, though faint, was unbroken.

The general roared, wings flaring in a final frenzy—but his body betrayed him. Cracks spread across his form, light searing through. With one last, guttural scream, he exploded into a storm of black ash and molten shards.

The shockwave knocked soldiers to their knees. The horde of demons shrieked, scattering into the night like rats fleeing fire.

And then—silence.

All eyes shifted to Arata.

He stood at the center of the crater, katana driven into the ground for support. His crimson coat hung in tatters, his silver hair matted with blood and soot. The glow in his blade flickered out, leaving only the sound of his ragged breaths.

The soldiers froze. Some gasped. Others stepped back instinctively.

“—Those eyes. ”

“—He looks like one of them. ”

“—Is he even human? ”

The whispers spread like wildfire. Awe. Fear. Uncertainty.

Arata’s gaze swept the walls, the soldiers, the city behind them. His flame still burned, alive and defiant—but behind their eyes, he saw it again. Doubt. Suspicion. The same as before.

His wry smile returned, though weaker now, blood trailing from his lips. “—Yeah. I get it. ”

His knees buckled. The world tilted. Darkness pressed in.

Arata collapsed beside his katana, unconscious, the battlefield still smoldering around him.

The immortal flame had won.

The world returned in fragments.

Arata woke to the sterile sting of antiseptic, the low hum of machines, and the faint flicker of light across white walls. His body ached with every breath, his muscles heavy as stone. When he tried to move, pain flared through his ribs and arms, forcing a hiss from his lips.

“—Still alive, ” he muttered, smirking faintly. “Guess that counts as a win. ”

The room was small, reinforced with steel—half infirmary, half cell. His katana rested on a stand against the wall, sealed behind a layer of reinforced glass.

A door hissed open.

Commander Aris stepped inside, her coat crisp despite the soot stains still lingering on her sleeves. Her eyes were sharp, but shadowed with exhaustion. She stopped at the foot of his bed, silent for a long moment.

“You killed a general, ” she said finally, her tone unreadable.

Arata tilted his head against the pillow, his wry smile faint. “Yeah. You’re welcome. ”

Her gaze narrowed. “And yet half the city whispers you’re no different from the monsters you fight. They saw your eyes. They saw what you became out there. ”

The words hung heavy, sharper than any blade.

Arata’s grin faltered. He pivoted his head away, staring at the ceiling. “—Figures. Save their skins, scare their kids. ”

Aris stepped closer, her boots echoing softly. “This isn’t about gratitude. It’s about trust. Some want to raise statues in your honor. Others want you executed before you turn on us. ”

With his Draconic Eyes, flickered faintly, even behind closed lids. “—So which side are you on, Commander? ”

She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she folded her arms, her voice cool. “That depends on you. Are you humanity’s shield—or its next disaster? ”

Arata chuckled weakly, though the sound was bitter. “Funny. I’ve been asking myself the same thing. ”