White, ethereal wings emerged from their backs, glowing and shimmering as they flew up. They mirrored one another, making complex shapes with their hands that began with a circle. In unison, they pressed their palms together, releasing a barrage of beams that flickered against the stone walls and rattled the floors, sending a burning scent into the air.
Deming smirked, the beams reflecting in his eyes. "They're courting their demise." His arms and neck lost their shackles, and he dodged the attack by dipping his shoulder and spinning to face his attackers.
After a moment of dreadful silence, fire started to blaze from his eyes, surprising every faerie with his ominous look.
He lifted his arms and pointed them back at the soldiers until they met their end in a flash of light and disturbing noise. With arms crossed, a brief sense of satisfaction warmed his otherwise detached appearance as he gazed at the blast unfolding.
"You tried." Deming waved a hand, dismissive, and then contorted his face into a mask of evil. A cruel smirk spread across his lips as he taunted, leering in that deep voice, "I wish you could see your faces."
"Stay alert, everyone!" ordered the faerie general. "Lord Muchen is nearly here! Hold your positions!"
"What? You cannot stop me without him?" Deming ridiculed, though the mere mention of Muchen made his jaw tighten and left a bad taste in his mouth. 'Does Muchen have another trick up his sleeve to trap me?'
Observing the general shaking before him, his gaze turned to the shadows, a brief moment of strain breaking the calm facade on his face.
That low, venomous rasp echoed in the stone chamber. "How amusing... I suppose it is your lucky day. It looks like my plan to obliterate this realm is going to have to wait. But do not worry; I am a man of my word. And when I return, perhaps I will start with your loved ones first. I shall chain them deep in your dungeons and make them yearn to see the light and sky again, knowing they can only dream about it, day after day. They shall scream in agony while you watch helplessly, begging me to stop. And I shall remain quiet, just as you did all these years, watching me suffer."
The general squinted, a look of utter confusion on his face. 'What is he... talking about? I've never...'
Deming's tone lowered into a sinister growl. "And it shall not stop there. On the lands where you have raised your children, I shall build statues of our people from your ashes. And as for Muchen, he shall be where he always needed to be—under our feet."
The color drained out of the general's face, his mouth opened, and he wheezed for breath that came in shallow, ragged gasps. His eyes widened, and he shook his hands, but that was maniacal in every way.
~*~
A faerie soldier burst into the throne room. "My lord, the Astaran prince is on the verge of breaking free!"
The room was tinged with the scent of incense, blending its sweetness and earthiness.
The rays of the sun were harsh, touching his white armor that now gleamed as he stood before the ruler, and the sunlight scattered its light onto the crystal pillars. It almost matched the shimmers of their wings when the faeries flew above to attack the demon.
The moment Lord Muchen heard the news, he felt anxious in his heart, only to mutter to himself, "That cannot be..."
Lord Muchen was a middle-aged man who wore a long white robe that gave meaning to his authority. His hair, tied back in sections and as black as night, gave way just enough for a few strands to curl around his sharp features. A golden crown rested on his head; its twisted plant stem design symbolized his connection to nature and his role as ruler.
Muchen's hands shook without control. "Seal... that... demon," he urged. His breaths came in gasps, and the strain on his jaw was almost enough to shatter his teeth, his eyes bulging outwards. "Summon all the high gods. IMMEDIATELY!"
"Y-Yes, my lord," the soldier bowed again, only to be cut off as the earth shook with force, revealing just how much he had pissed off the demon. They both gasped in surprise.
"Hurry!" Muchen scowled in disdain. 'If Feng Deming is freed, our demise is inevitable.'
~*~
Meilin sat, her hands hovering over the glowing keyboard and mouse. 'The coach is making me nervous... How am I supposed to concentrate like this?'
Once the game began, she mapped out her jungle path and cleared the camps. Near the red buff, an opposing player had set a trap, hiding in a patch of tall grass to ambush her. She hesitated, her gut instinct urging her to reconsider her path. Instead of walking into the trap, she exposed it and adjusted her route, avoiding the ambush.
Ningshun's eyes moved between her and the large monitor, tracking every action she took. 'Good. She isn't as reckless here as in her other matches.'
She observed the mini-map for threats. Then, she coordinated with her team and set up ambushes to turn the tables in her favor. This left the other team frustrated, as their traps and tricks failed to land.
The coach leaned in, eyeing her speed and accuracy. 'With Ningshun's incredible gameplay mechanics and Meilin's strategy, this team could be... unbeatable.'
Near the end of the match, the opposing team tried one final tactic—setting an ambush near the Dragon Pit. Unease struck her; something was off. She signaled her team to hold back, choosing not to rush in. When the other team revealed their ambush, she pushed toward the enemy base, instructing her team to delay the enemies' teleportation. Her strategy paid off, leading to her team's victory.
After a few more solo sessions and matches with Solaris' team members, the coach's skepticism melted away, replaced by a genuine smile and a light clap. "Well done. I think we've seen enough. Welcome to the team, Meilin. We're glad to have you." The coach extended his hand.
Meilin, her heart still racing from the intense gameplay, shook his hand with a firm grip. "Thank you so much!" She glanced at Ningshun, who nodded back.
"Oh, and Ningshun, come to my office. Help me with paperwork." The coach's gaze bore into him, lingering longer than usual.
They made their way to the coach's modern office and shut the frosted glass door behind them. The place featured a large desk, comfortable chairs, and a wall adorned with photos from past tournaments.
The coach sat behind the desk, tapping a pen against a stack of organized papers, his mind lost in concentration. When the tapping ceased, he leaned back in his chair and studied Ningshun for a moment. "Well, I'll admit it. Meilin did a great job today—better than I expected. You were right about her."
Ningshun, seated across from him, nodded with a faint smile. "Told you she's good."
The coach leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk, his gaze sharp as it met Ningshun's. "Yeah, about that. When we first talked about her, I thought she was cheating. But after today, it's clear she's just really good at reading people in the game." He glanced at the team's large logo on the wall and then back at Ningshun, a hint of suspicion in his eyes. "I see you weren't swayed by... other things. Well, she's a beauty, after all."
Ningshun gave a light chuckle, dismissing the comment with a casual wave. "Oh, you think so? I don't know, maybe... I didn't really notice."
The coach's eyes narrowed, smirking. "You really didn't notice?"
"Seems to me you noticed it more than I did." Ningshun laughed.
"Watch what you say, Ningshun," the coach teased, lifting his pen with a playful smile, as if to swat him with it.
Ningshun leaned back, crossed his arms over his chest, and gave a deep sigh. "Look, beauty doesn't win games. Skill does."
The coach nodded and accepted the answer. "Good point." Satisfied, he picked up the contract from his desk and handed it to Ningshun. "Take this to Meilin. It's our offer for her to join the team. If she's okay with it, I'll sign it."
Ningshun took the contract and smiled. "No worries. I'll see if she gets it."
He stood and headed for the door, his gaze lingering just a beat too long on the coach's eyes as they followed him. Then, with a turn, he went down the hallway, replaying the earlier conversation in his head with his lips curled, but the smirk never reached his eyes.
"You can never read me, coach." Ningshun's voice had a sharpness, a cutting edge just beneath the surface.
As he prowled back toward Meilin in the training room, his footsteps echoed in the silence. His gaze flicked to the far door—so quick, it could have been missed—before his features smoothed into something more neutral. Too neutral.
~*~
Deming tilted his head, regarding the faerie general with a cold stare as the general's breath hitched, sweat trickling down his forehead. Overwhelmed by fear, he could only meet the demon prince's sharp, menacing gaze with trembling eyes.
The demon's golden eyes now blazed fiery red, his crimson aura pulsating and radiating eerie energy as he clenched his fists. Time froze, and in an instant, a violent eruption shook the dungeon.
The unfortunate faeries near him vanished in a cloud of smoke, the painful screams of hundreds echoing throughout the dungeon. The air filled with a strong, smoky odor of burnt matches and materials for those who survived the attack.
The general, overwhelmed, succumbed to the ruthless assault. Drops of blood trickled from his trembling lips as he muttered in confusion and fear, "What... what is he?"
"Make sure you prepare well for my return," Deming declared with a cold grin as he ascended into the air. Fierce black flames erupted from his back, forming broad wings that crackled and burned. A swirling black smoke surrounded him as he departed, leaving behind a bone-chilling nightmare for the witnesses.
~*~
Muchen and his soldiers stormed into the dungeon, their eyes sweeping over the dusty area with heavy hearts, taking in the remains of their loved ones reduced to ashes. Shock and grief gripped them, their jaws dropping as they struggled to comprehend the loss. Frustration and sorrow tightened their fists, some suppressing tears at the sight of their once-living comrades, now gone.
"L-Lord Muchen," the general clung to life, his voice a weak whisper.
Muchen, paralyzed with fear, snapped back to reality and turned his attention to the fortunate survivors. His eyes fell on the injured man lying on the ground, who had spoken his name and recognized him. "Yize..."
"I... I failed in my duty." Yize's eyes narrowed in pain. Two of Muchen's soldiers knelt beside him, reaching out their arms to help him as he tried to get back on his feet.
Yet, before he could gather himself, Muchen's gaze froze him in place, like ice on a winter's day. He bowed his head in shame, bearing the silent disappointment of his lord.
In the middle of the wrecked dungeon, Muchen stood still for a moment, surveying the chaos. His eyes narrowed, calculating. "Hope is but a fragile illusion... Once he returns to us, Feng Deming will beg for mercy before the end," he murmured, his smirk unfurling like a serpent coiling around its prey, venomous and inevitable.
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Demon King's Love - Copyright © 2023 by Aurora Luxi. All Rights Reserved.