C1- The Most Logical Choice

The history of my kind, the Demon Race, is a flat circle of stupidity.

I sat on the Obsidian Throne, resting my chin on my hand, looking down at the four Generals kneeling before me. The air in the throne room was thick with the scent of brimstone and the ozone crackle of high-tier magic. Outside the stained-glass windows, the Red Moon hung low over the scorched lands of the Demon Realm.

It was a terrifying scene. The kind that would make a human wet themselves.

To me, however, it was just another Tuesday staff meeting.

"My Lord," rasped General Malphas, his voice like grinding stones. He was a towering figure of shadow and bone, the Grand Marshal of my armies. "The prophecy has been confirmed. The Oracle of the West has spoken. The Hero has been born."

A ripple of unease went through the room. The other three generals shifted. Volcan, the General of Hellfire, clenched a fist that was currently wreathed in actual flames.

"We must strike now!" Volcan roared, forgetting his indoor voice. "The human lands are weak! If the brat is a newborn, we can burn their entire town to ash! We can crush the threat in the cradle!"

"Agreed," hissed Lady Vex, the Mistress of Poisons. "A surgical strike. We poison the water supply of the entire region. Kill the host, kill the parasite."

They all looked at me, eyes burning with bloodlust, waiting for my command. They expected me to nod, to stand up, and to declare a crusade of slaughter. That is what my father did. That is what his father did.

And look where that got them. Dead. Killed by a Hero.

I sighed. The sound echoed loudly in the cavernous hall.

"No," I said.

The silence that followed was heavy. Volcan blinked, his flames dimming slightly in confusion. "My... Lord? Did you say no?"

"I did." I tapped a clawed finger against the armrest of the throne. "Let us review history, shall we? Five hundred years ago, the Great Demon Lord Azaroth heard a prophecy. He sent his armies to burn the village of the prophesized Hero."

"A glorious slaughter!" Malphas nodded enthusiastically.

"And what happened?" I asked, my voice dropping an octave. "They missed one child. The Hero survived in the rubble. He saw his parents dead. He saw his home destroyed. And do you know what that created, Volcan?"

Volcan hesitated. "A... very sad orphan?"

"It created Motivation," I snapped. "It created a creature of pure vengeance. That orphan trained for twenty years with a burning hatred in his heart, unlocked the Holy Sword, and decapitated Azaroth. The attempt to kill him didn't stop the prophecy—it ensured it."

I stood up, my heavy cape sweeping across the stone steps.

"Trauma creates power," I lectured, pacing before them. "Despair forges will. If we attack this village now, we are practically hand-wrapping the Hero’s origin story. We are giving him the tragic backstory he needs to unlock his potential."

The Generals looked at each other, stunned. They were creatures of violence, not narrative causality.

"Then... what do we do?" Lady Vex asked, tilting her head. "If we do not kill the child, the child will grow up. The prophecy says he is destined to defeat you."

"The prophecy says he is destined to face me," I corrected. "It does not say he has to hate me."

I walked to the massive tactical map spread across the stone table in the center of the room. A glowing red dot marked a remote human settlement near the border. A town called Garia.

"If the Hero grows up in a warzone," I said, pointing at the dot, "he becomes a soldier. If he grows up starving, he becomes a survivor. But..."

I smiled, a expression that usually terrified my subordinates.

"What if he grows up happy?"

The Generals stared at me blankly.

"What if," I continued, "the Hero grows up with a full belly? What if he has loving parents? What if his biggest worry is not 'Demon Invasions' but 'Will the cute girl next door notice me?' or 'Did I pass my math test?'"

I leaned over the map, my eyes glowing with dark mana.

"A Hero with a soft life has a soft sword. If we protect his village, if we ensure he never suffers a single day of tragedy... he will have no reason to pick up a blade. He will become a farmer. Or a merchant. He will grow fat and happy, and he will die of old age without ever realizing he was supposed to kill me."

Malphas scratched his bony chin. "So... your plan is to... nurture the Hero?"

"My plan is to neutralize the threat through aggressive pacifism," I declared. "We are going to give this kid the best damn childhood in the history of the human race."

"And who will oversee this?" Volcan asked skeptically. "I cannot do it. I would accidentally set the crib on fire."

"I know," I said. "None of you can be trusted. You reek of malice."

I raised my hand. Dark magic swirled around me, condensing, shrinking. My towering, horned form began to shift. The jagged armor dissolved into mist. My height decreased. The terrifying aura that crushed lesser beings retracted inward, hiding deep within my core.

When the light faded, I was no longer the ten-foot-tall Lord of Darkness.

I was a boy. A human boy, seemingly around ten years old, with messy black hair and pale skin. I looked weak. Fragile. Pathetic.

I looked perfect.

"My Lord!" Vex gasped. "You... you have diminished yourself!"

"It is a disguise, you fool," I said, though my voice was now the lighter, softer tenor of a pre-teen. I tested my limbs. Flimsy, but functional. "I will go to Garia myself. I will infiltrate the village. I will watch over this 'Hero' from the shadows."

I looked back at my Generals.

"General Malphas, you are in command of the armies. Keep the war going, but stall. Do not advance the front lines. We need the humans to feel safe enough to relax, but scared enough not to investigate the border villages."

"As you command," Malphas bowed, though he looked deeply confused.

"I am leaving immediately," I said, walking toward the balcony. "Do not contact me unless the castle is literally imploding. I have a Hero to babysit."

I stepped off the ledge, letting the wind catch me.

They called me a tyrant. They called me a monster. But as I flew toward the human lands, invisible to the eye, I knew the truth.

I was the only person in this entire world using his brain.

I would save the Hero. And in doing so, I would save myself.

What could possibly go wrong?