Chapter 6: Understanding

It was a simple gathering, right in the center of the Kurosu Estate. The sky was oddly clear, but the ambience was saturated with signs of grief.

The entire workforce, along with Marcus, a boy and a girl around Kuro’s age each accompanied by adults who were assumedly their parents, and Kuro, now donning a miniature version of the black shirt he’d come to always wear.

There was a noticeable distance between the adults of the other kids and Marcus, enough to signal a message: “We shouldn’t be here, but for you, we will.”

That was the impression young Kuro got from the less than obvious physical display, and his father didn’t seem to mind. While everyone paid their respects in silence, Kuro saw that unnatural display—quiet tears, welling up in his father’s eyes.

Tears that he himself for some reason couldn’t muster.

The girl his age across from him made a motion to head towards him, only to be held by the shoulder by the female adult behind her who whispered, “Not now, dear.”

And for the other young boy present, he was calm—or rather, he was neutral. He didn’t seem to be displaying any particular emotions.

Around an hour had passed, and everyone dispersed. Kuro was still by his mother’s grave, straining his eyes with a focused intensity.

His father brought both hands down on his shoulders, telling him, “Don’t force it, Kuro.”

The boy looked up at his father with resignation on his face. Kuro asked, “Dad… Why can’t I cry…?”

“To be honest, I don’t really know, Kuro,” Marcus sighed. “But it doesn’t mean you are any less pained by this. It just means that… Well, they do say, ‘Demons Don’t Cry’ because of their Demonic Heart…”

Kuro’s little hand found its way to his chest where at the time, the mark, II, was present. After that, the boy buried himself in his father’s comfort.

● ● ●

As time flowed forward, Kuro began to understand the subtle intricacies surrounding his life. For one, he rarely had visitors, save for the two kids his age that would stop by with their parents on occasion.

From what Kuro could grasp, Demons historically opted for a life of isolation and self-sustenance. But of recent times, they tried to foster a little more co-operation among themselves for preservation of their people.

By that logic, there should be a lot more than two families who dropped by from time to time.

Then, there was the fact that, Kuro had never seen his mother use magic—not even once. It was something that he never gave too much thought. Now, with deeper reasoning, it made even more sense.

The boy had come to a conclusion: his mother was different.

He had been taught the bare minimum about the war with the Heroic Clan at the time, and how they had the backing of some…humans.

Not having any “natural” affinity for magic, the regular humans often resorted to stuff like science and technology for survival—according to Talmarius, and the few shows he had seen on television.

And due to that difference, Kuro’s family was shunned, albeit indirectly. That was what he had managed to surmise.

On a particular night, he had overheard a conversation between Talmarius and his father in a sort of makeshift study room on the second floor.

“My Liege, should we purge the young master of the memories from that day?”

“No, Talmarius… That won’t be fair to him. And besides, that would be taking the easy way out. My son wouldn’t survive if he can’t shoulder pain,” Marcus told Talmarius, resting his hands on a round wooden table.

Kuro darted away from the half-open door after what he’d heard. Both Marcus and Talmarius threw a weak glance at the door before resuming their conversation.

As Kuro ran, he thought about the explanation of the events surrounding his mother’s death.

The essence of it was that, that very evening they had gone out—which they rarely do—a band of Heroes had followed them.

Apparently, they were unlike any Marcus had ever faced, and in the process of trying to strike him down, Miranda had gotten caught up in the crossfire…

Kuro grit his teeth as he ran into his bedroom, slamming the door before slumping to the floor against it.

He felt helpless.

● ● ●

Somewhere on that same second floor in the mansion, Marcus and Kuro were engaged in a friendly sparring match. The room had the design of a standard dojo, and the two wore loose clothing; the type suited for combat.

Kuro lunged forward at his father with a balled fist. Marcus reacted to the attack by parrying it with an open palm, before striking Kuro’s elbow—

CRACK!

—with enough force to shatter bone.

“Hngh…”

“Is it broken?”

“Yeah, Dad. It’s definitely broken,” Kuro replied, somewhat casual. Though, his face was scrunched as he looked at the broken limb.

“It will heal in a bit. Or, if you can’t wait, you can just cast Rapid Healing on it, right? You have an obsession with healing spells.”

Kuro could only muster a half-hearted smile to his father’s retort. He had settled on letting the hand heal naturally—being a Demon did have its perks.

As he waited for the hand to fully heal within the next couple of seconds, Kuro saw his father’s expression darken.

“Kuro, I haven’t told you this, but…” Marcus paused, taking a good look at his son standing before him. “…I’ll be fighting The Hero in a few weeks.”

Even without explicitly explaining, Kuro could get the general idea. The fight wasn’t going to be a siege or a forceful invasion. It would be a formal duel between the two warring sides. That was just the kind of person his father was, or rather, who he had become.

“Listen well, Kuro. I want you to live your life whichever way you want to. Don’t let being a Demon define your future. Take control over your own destiny. That’s what Mira, and I, wish for you more than anything.”

With Kuro’s hand fully healed, his face tensed with acceptance and understanding of his father’s words.

“Yes, Dad.”

A few weeks passed…

There was a grassy valley, far away from civilization, having two hills on each end where both clans watched from. The Demonic Clan on the right, and the Heroic Clan on the left.

They watched both their champions go at each other with much intensity. It was a battle that all eyes remained stuck on—it was just that magnificent.

The two parties cheered for their strongest warriors, but the Heroic Clan’s cheers were clearly louder. On top of that, Kuro could feel judgmental gazes aimed from behind him.

“There he is—the half-blood.”

“How could the Demon King weaken our Clan by having a child with a…human…?”

Being fifteen at the time, Kuro fully understood their spite. Though there wasn’t any explicit rule against taking a human partner, it was greatly frowned upon. Some see it even as a taboo. And the Demon King—their leader, their head—committed such an act. Unacceptable.

And he was the son of such a man.

The man Marcus fought appeared to be around the same age bracket with him. He was wrapped in blinding white light. Thick beams shot from his body, streaking through the air, aimed at his opponent.

Marcus was wrapped in searing flames of crimson, cloaking his entire body. The flames formed a pair of three sets of wings that flared immensely. A patch of yellow fire in their centers mimicking eyes.

The Walking Purgatory—the nickname given to his father by the Demonic Clan.

“Crush that filthy Demon, Leading Light,” screamed someone from the Heroic Clan at the other end of the valley. Similar to the Demon King, they also gave their champion a nickname, too.

A blur of intense crimson fire clashed with another beam of scorching light. The two fighters closed the distance over the valley, grappling each other.

What happened next was strange.

The intensity of their auras wavered, and the two seemed to be talking. Both sides watched on curiously. Then…

Their auras flared once more, swelling to a dangerous size—

BOOOOOOOOMMMMMM…

The resulting energy charred the entirety of the grassy earth, making it look desolate, and…

“Dad…” Kuro whispered.

No one could sense any trace of either the Demon King, or The Hero. They had both eradicated each other in that final clash. There weren’t any bodies, either. Apparently, when beings wielding such powers die, their bodies disintegrate into nothingness due to the massive release of energy.

The two clans silenced themselves, weighing their options. Talmarius, who was beside Kuro, stared at the hooded individual clad in white on the other end of the valley—his crimson eyes fully focused.

The next thing that happened would change Kuro’s life forever…

“AAAAARRRGGGHHHHH…” Kuro screamed at the very top of his lungs in pain as a black aura surged around him, completely engulfing him.

The entire Demonic Clan had the same shared chill run down their spines.

They were witnessing the choosing of a new Demon King, right there before them. A half-blood, and from the same bloodline. An unprecedented occurrence. Never before had power passed directly between parent and child. History had been made.

Talmarius didn’t know what to make of it. His deceased master’s son—the one he wanted far away from all this war—being given the central role.

His eyes quickly flitted over to the Heroic Clan. He paid attention carefully to that singular person under the hood. Would they attack the inexperienced Demon King? Would they hesitate, due to the sudden emergence and wait for a new champion to emerge?

The figure raised their left hand, a signal to fall back.

They had decided not to continue the attack, and retreat peacefully. As they pulled back their forces, the figure threw one last glance over their shoulder, before leaving.

That day, Kuro Kurosu became the new Demon King.