Akuma awoke with a start, his body aching all over. His eyes fluttered open, stinging as the harsh red sun beat down upon him from an endless, cloudless sky. The light seared his skin, and a deep throbbing in his head made him wince. He sat up slowly, gritting his teeth as every movement sent sharp pains shooting through his small, bruised frame.
His vision swam for a moment, but when it cleared, he saw nothing but desolation stretching out around him. It was a barren wasteland, a lifeless expanse of cracked, dry earth as far as the eye could see. Rocks jutted out from the ground like jagged teeth, and the heat rising from the sun distorted the air in shimmering waves.
"Father?" Akuma croaked, his voice barely more than a whisper. His throat was dry, and every word scraped against his parched throat. He looked around frantically, his heart pounding in his chest. "Father!"
But there was no answer. No sign of the mighty Demon King, Iruma. Only silence greeted him.
Akuma's small hands balled into fists as his mind raced, trying to make sense of what had happened. The last thing he remembered was his father casting the portal, the dark magic swirling around him before everything went black. And now… now he was alone, stranded in this strange, forsaken land.
He stumbled to his feet, his knees wobbling beneath him. The ground beneath his boots was rough, littered with sharp stones that bit into his skin with every step. Akuma clutched his head, the pounding headache making it hard to think straight.
"Father…" he whispered again, his voice breaking this time. He scanned the wasteland again, desperate for any sign of life, for any sign of his father. But it was no use.
Iruma was gone.
"Dammit!" Akuma cursed, kicking a nearby rock in frustration. It clattered away, bouncing off the hard ground. He was angry—angry at the humans, elves, dwarves, draconians, and especially the Radiant Church. Those who had driven them to this, those who had forced his father into a corner.
"This is all *their* fault!" Akuma spat, his small frame trembling with rage. "Those filthy humans, those damned elves… and that wretched Radiant Church!"
His anger burned hotter than the sun overhead, but it couldn't change the reality of his situation. He was alone, lost in a wasteland, and far too weak to do anything about it.
---
Akuma began to walk, his feet dragging along the scorched earth. Every step was a struggle. His legs were sore, and his body was weak from exhaustion. His father had told him to survive, but how? He was only nine years old, barely trained in the arts of demonic magic, let alone survival.
Though demons were nearly indistinguishable from humans in appearance—both sharing the same pale skin, sharp features, and humanoid builds—their connection to magic set them apart. Akuma's people had always wielded demonic and dark arts, drawing power from the shadowy corners of existence, bending reality to their will. The humans, on the other hand, were aligned with magic that basked in the light, spells of healing, purification, and elemental force.
Akuma knew a few of his clan's spells, but at his age, his magical repertoire was limited. He could barely summon a minor dark flame or cast a simple illusion. The thought of fighting his way out of this wasteland—let alone surviving it—seemed impossible.
"I just need… to find water. And food," he muttered to himself, his voice hoarse. His throat felt like it was on fire, every word scraping against his dry tongue. "Then I'll think about the rest… one step at a time."
The barren landscape offered nothing but desolation, the ground beneath him cracked and dry like ancient parchment. The sky above, bathed in an angry red hue, made the heat unbearable. His lips were chapped, and his skin felt like it was being roasted alive. A drop of sweat slid down his cheek, stinging the open wounds he hadn't noticed before.
"Hungry… thirsty…" Akuma groaned, his stomach growling painfully. It had been hours, perhaps days, since he last ate. He could barely remember. His mind was a blur of pain, fear, and loss. All he knew was that he needed to survive, but even that simple goal felt overwhelming in the face of this wasteland.
He continued walking, stumbling occasionally, his boots kicking up small clouds of dust with each step. His gaze darted around the landscape, hoping—*praying*—to see something, anything that could help him. But all he saw was the same barren land stretching on forever.
"Curse them all," he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with bitterness. "The humans… the elves… the dwarves… the draconians… and that accursed Radiant Church! I'll make them all pay. They'll regret the day they crossed us…"
The thought gave him some comfort, a flicker of hope, but it quickly faded. He wasn't strong enough. Not yet. His father had been the greatest demon to ever live, and even he had fallen to their combined might. What hope did he have, a mere child, with only the basics of magic at his disposal?
Akuma's eyes burned with unshed tears as he walked. He was angry, yes, but beneath that anger was an overwhelming sadness. He missed his father—his powerful, proud father who had stood as the last pillar of strength for their people. He missed the warmth of their home, the security of their kingdom. Now, all of that was gone, and he was alone.
As he trudged forward, the red sun hanging high above him, Akuma's vision began to blur. His body was giving out. He could feel it in the way his legs shook beneath him, the way his heart pounded painfully in his chest. He needed to find shelter, somewhere to rest, or he wouldn't last much longer.
The wasteland stretched on endlessly, but after what felt like an eternity of walking, Akuma spotted something in the distance—a dark shape, jutting out of the barren land. He squinted, shielding his eyes from the sun, trying to make out what it was.
"A… cave?" he muttered, his voice barely audible.
It was hard to tell from this distance, but it looked like an opening in the side of a large rock formation, a possible shelter from the relentless heat of the sun. Without thinking, Akuma picked up his pace, his heart pounding with a newfound sense of urgency.
The walk felt endless, each step more difficult than the last, but he pushed through the pain, focusing on the dark spot ahead of him. As he got closer, he could see it clearly—a cave, its mouth yawning open like a black hole in the rock. It wasn't large, but it was big enough for him to slip inside, to escape the sun for at least a little while.
Akuma stumbled into the cave, his legs barely able to carry him anymore. The moment he crossed the threshold, he collapsed onto the cool, rocky floor, gasping for breath. The air inside was stale, but it was a relief from the scorching heat outside.
His vision swam, and he felt the overwhelming urge to sleep, to let his tired body rest. But he couldn't sleep yet. He needed food, water… something to sustain him. His stomach growled loudly, a painful reminder of how weak he had become.
"Just… need to rest…" Akuma muttered, his eyelids growing heavy.
He lay there on the cold ground, his body aching, his heart heavy with loss. For a moment, he allowed himself to close his eyes, to forget the pain, the hunger, the thirst. But in the back of his mind, the anger still simmered, waiting for its chance to boil over.
"They'll pay for this," he whispered, his voice barely audible in the darkness of the cave. "I swear it…"
With that, Akuma finally let sleep take him, his small body curled up on the cave floor, alone in a desolate world.