"Boom," a sound akin to an explosion from outside Edgar's room erupted as he lay against his soft, red carpet, looking at the marble ceiling.
He turned his head to the side to see a mirror against the wall. His orange eyes stared back at him as his medium-lengthed light purple hair lay against the floor.
His bedroom door slammed open with a bang, revealing a silver-armored knight, their visage covered by a helmet. The silver glinted as his candles' flames flickered vigorously.
They slowly approached him, holding a steel sword slathered in blood. Their grip tightened around the golden handle as they vertically positioned the sword at his neck.
They raised the blade and forcefully inserted it into his pale skin as he stared lifelessly into the open slit in their helmet. Blood gushed like a fountain, dirtying the carpet and his neck.
The last thing he remembered was the pommel on the sword with the marking of a dragon.
---------------------
"Mother... does father love us?" Edgar asked looking up innocently at his bedridden mother. He tugged at her long light purple hair with his small, pale hands, twirling it around his finger.
Her white face looked malnourished as she lightly coughed, "He... does not," She whispered with a dour expression.
"B-but why?"
"Because, my child, we are weak."
"Is that bad?" Edgar asked, tilting his head. She coughed again before answering, "Yes... it is a sin to be weak. In this world, if you're not strong enough, you will die just as I will die soon."
A tear dripped down his eye as he stammered out, shaking, "M-maybe if you ate your food and tried really hard not to throw it up, you can grow stronger and... and protect me. Right?"
"My sweet Edgar," she said, stroking his hair.
"You must make peace with it."
"But I don't like being hit! It hurts! I don't like it when my father glares at me! It makes me feel so useless! I don't want you to die!" He yelled, crying and begging for a modicum of comfort.
"Shh. Shh." His mother lightly pressed a finger against his lips before taking off a black and white bead necklace and wrapping it around his neck.
"Here, take this. The nameless general gave it to me a long time ago, but I think you need it more than me. With this, you won't ever have to worry." She whispered.
He cried harder as she closed her eyes to rest.
"Remember Edgar, you only have yourself to blame for your weakness."
-----------
The sun shone down on a clearing in the middle of the woods, covered in rubble. Various corpses littered the ground, permeating the disgusting stench of decay, and cicadas buzzed in the distance.
One specific pile of rubble shook as a light-purple-haired demon with black, deer-like antlers protruding from his head revealed himself.
Edgar's usually pale face was covered in dust, and he coughed, panting heavily. Sweat trickled down his brow as he looked up at the cloudless sky.
"Ah," He exclaimed in shock before touching his neck with a dirtied hand. He felt a scar on his neck and then moved his hand to the back to feel another scar.
A sword entering his neck flashed through his mind as he contemplated, "How am I alive?" "Wait..." he muttered.
"Where's my necklace?"
Edgar began scrounging through the surrounding rubble, looking for his bead necklace. His eyes moving down to his chest, he sighed, "I thought I was wearing it though."
"Huh?"
He saw what looked like burn marks seared on his chest. It was in the shape of numerous circles connected, almost as if it were a necklace. Half of the circles in sight were filled in while the other half was just an outline.
"Could it be... but that's absurd. Well, it does look remarkably similar," Edgar whispered, thinking that perhaps this burn mark came from the necklace or, maybe, was the necklace.
He continued looking through the rubble for ten more minutes until he gave up, concluding that either it was gone or was now part of him.
His orange eyes scanned his surroundings.
'This is the castle, isn't it? I figured we'd lose, but it feels weird now that it's actually happened. Did Father run away? Knowing him though, he probably fought to the death. Are my siblings and the generals dead? How ironic... the tormenters who always scorned me have perished while I am very much alive.'
"Well... some could still be alive. I hope I don't run into them if that's the case," Edgar said.
"I guess I'll just start walking, and if I die, so be it."
Edgar started marching into the woods without any particular destination.
He had spent three days just walking and was now dirty and tired. He didn't know where civilization was, but he at least expected to find something by now!
He only managed to survive this long because of the small amount of aura that he could manifest. Currently, he could only coat his fingers and with it, his pointer fingers became as sharp as dull daggers, allowing him to kill weaker creatures like bunnies or deer.
Demons were very different from every other race because they had been rejected by mana. Mana was akin to a God, and it governed all of nature and bestowed the various species with power beyond their imagination.
However, it was disgusted by Demons because their existence went against the natural law. They were created by the god of chaos and destruction, Exitium.
Because of this history, most species despised demons for simply existing, which only stoked war. It seemed natural for demonkind to rise against their oppressors, and as they increased in prominence and strength, assaulting the continents of the world, mana birthed the hero to defeat them.
Aura was Exitium's version of mana that gave Demons their own power. While unable to access the various elements, it could still be incredibly formidable. However, if the aura is overused and the container is hurt enough, demons can go berserk, fighting anyone they see, leading to many more mishaps in battles.
There is a saying that illustrates this idea perfectly, "If the leader gets too angry and hurt, the battle is already lost."
As Edgar sat down under a large oak tree in the middle of the night, he heard the howling of a wolf. A grey wolf stood nearby with two others standing behind him.
They growled as they stalked toward the sitting Edgar. He swiftly jumped to his feet and activated his aura. The leader of the trio, bigger than the others, lunged at him.
He sidestepped and slashed with his pointer finger in its side. It wasn't very effective, leaving a small gash on the wolf's face, which only served to anger it.
The wolf tried to bite down on his hand, but its teeth were blocked by Edgar shooting aura through all of his fingers. The two wolves who were just spectating, walked closer to the battle. Three wolves were now circling Edgar as he looked on indifferently.
"Am I going to die? That's fine."
Edgar retracted his hand, causing a wolf to jump at him. He swiftly stuck his hand out while the wolf was in midair and stabbed his aura-covered finger into its chin.
Sticking his finger out, now slathered in blood, the wolf slumped down, whining in pain. "Dumb Wolf," he whispered.
The last two wolves lunged at Edgar at the same time in different directions. He managed to stab the smaller one, but the leader bit into his shoulder, which caused him to fall to the ground, breathing erratically.
As the wolf's bite tightened, Edgar lay there face-first in the dirt. He tried but failed to rip off the source of pain, and the other wolf had only suffered a shallow wound, so was able to attack him again.
Now, two wolves were biting into Edgar as he bled out until he stopped breathing.
Edgar woke up, being dragged by the ankle by the large wolf who led the attack. His head was constantly bumping against the ground, giving him a headache, and he tightly closed his eyes.
'What the hell? How am I alive again? Does it have to do with the burn marks around my neck? Now that I think about the castle, I would have definitely died from that knight.' He thought, racking his brain to what power may have taken hold of him.
'I wonder if it's at all similar to the nameless general. He gave my necklace to my mother and is a lich, so it would make some sense as to why I haven't died yet.'
'How cruel could the gods be if they won't let me die when I want? What about when I'm old? Will the necklace just stick me in a state of perpetual misery as I continuously die due to a withered body over and over again?'
'Well... it's not confirmed yet. I should probably try to find the nameless general because I know for a fact he isn't dead. Liches can't die after all.'
Edgar slowly opened his eyes, seeing the night sky, and kicked the wolf dragging him in the snout. During the wolf's shock, he sprang to his feet and threw himself onto it, activating his aura.
While gripping its back, he repeatedly stabbed it with his finger again and again until it fell to the floor, and he sprang out onto the grass on his back, breathing heavily.
Another wolf stood over him, staring into his eyes, and bit into his neck, killing him before he could react.
His orange eyes fluttered open as he was met with a wolf chewing on the corpse of a bigger wolf with multiple stab wounds. Edgar stood up and walked toward the feasting creature before activating his aura and sticking his finger into the wolf's head.
He then thrust a finger from his other hand into its face, which finished off the already wounded wolf. After dying twice, he finally killed the three beasts.
'Wow! I really don't seem to be able to die,' he thought with an apathetic look.
'I don't know whether to thank my dead mother or curse her.'
"Sigh."