He was born as the son of an Oni, on the last day of the year. This year was the eighth succession of the tenth year, during the Elden age. He was the hope of the Mountain Tyrant Sect, a cult which had their prayers ignored for centuries on end.
He… he could not live up to their expectations.
•••
"Cheers! For the Mountain Lord will soon hold in his hands, the child of promise!"
The blood and meat of twenty sheep and thirty cattle were shared among the witnesses of this glorious feast, who participated around a stone-long table that spanned the length of a great wooden hall.
A broad-shouldered figure, wearing red, embroidered robes with dishevelled, raven black hair and darkened, shadowy eyes sat on one end of the stone-long table and lifted his silver chalice into the air.
He carried the aura of a general.
"Our blood that is eternally faithful shall spill on the pagoda's sacred floor, and that blood shall be used to convey our wishes, that the Golden Fruit be passed onto another generation of Oni once more, and his son to intertwine his destiny with its profound power!"
"Then, at that moment, a promise will be made! A promise, that the Elden Gods will allow us to have fruitful harvests forevermore!"
The rest of them cheered.
"So that shall be, as that is the fate of the magnificent seed of the glorious Mountain Lord, the Oni who lords over our sect!"
•••
The remaining leftovers on the stone-long table were cleared, while the witnesses to the great feast began to converge elsewhere, to the grand pagoda that had stood for centuries as the abode of this mighty Mountain Lord, and a small child, wrapped in cloth, was slowly carried to this building as well.
The general changed into suitable attire, currently white robes, which had the symbol of a red goblin woven into it. He led a group of women who were the stewards for the so-called "child of promise", and headed towards the pagoda.
The doors opened with a silent feeling of foreboding, and the white-robed general entered, followed by a group of young women who were robed in white also, who carried the young child in a basket, a youth who had only reached a year in age today.
They carried torches, lighting the path ahead, and they finally reached the doors leading to the main hall, the lord's chambers.
"We greet you, O great Sloth Demon!"
In the presence of the Lord of the Mountains, as soon as the doors opened, they greeted him without their utmost respect and reverence and bowed their heads.
A crowd of ritualistic priests and earlier witnesses to the grand feast parted way so that the general could speak his words to the great lord.
For this man, wearing crimson robes with his bare chest uncovered, sitting in the throne in front of them, was not human, but a descendant of a long lineage of "Oni."
"You are the Sloth Demon of sacred ancestry. A sleepless Oni who is lacking in all but strength, voracity and brutality, and it is for that reason we have been able to crush our enemies."
"Long ago, the first forefather of your lineage was born, and he was gifted a 'divine fruit' by the Elden Gods long ago, and with it, he forged a unique Cursemark passed through lineage which he replaced his own heart with, and slaughtered the ancient races that occupied these lands long before, and then placed the cult on top of their graves."
"We remind ourselves of the fact, for we are in eternal servitude to you, and only live for the survival of the cult."
"So, may the blessing that took in the shape of the Golden Fruit grant us our wishes in the form of this young child."
The Cursemark that this great Oni bore was a special runic spell once crafted by the Elden Gods. It was a runic spell of devilry and curses, that could only be born through the processes of ritualistic magic.
It defied this crude world and allowed many to gain power through bewitchment, ritualistic magic, brutality and evil. There were other special runic spells like this out in the world, but the Cursemark was one of them that was generally considered evil, or 'impure'.
And so, the Mountain Lord looked on in apathy.
The Cursemark appeared as a bloody mark on his chest, just above where his heart was supposed to be, and it had been called by all the past generations of Oni, 'The Crimson Heart'.
It gleamed ominously, just as a stream of violet light struck the young child's heart.
"…Begin."
At once, they took out large blades from their clothes and, following the general, sliced the palms of their hands open, so that blood began to trickle. The rest followed, and they all joined hands in a large circle, with the child in the centre, and only allowing the Mountain Lord to look within.
The blood that trickled from their palms began to flow to the young child, and he began to wail.
"Young child. Be still," The Mountain Lord announced, as he began to walk from his throne, "You are the next in line, you are the next Oni, who will become not only the lord of these mountains, but the majesty of the Western Midlands."
"Become the Oni that our progenitor foresaw." He said as he stood over his child.
A pool of blood soon formed around the young child, and soon enough, it formed a sphere of blood around him, a sphere that was a haunting scarlet red.
The Mountain Lord glanced into the sphere of blood, and bellowed, "A failure."
With those words, every single person there, including the general, had taken the very knife they used to cut the palm of their hands open and stabbed themselves deep.
"May the Elden Gods forgive us…"
The Mountain Lord's eyes held a bit of disgust for the utter disappointment that laid in front of him, in the form of a now unconscious child that had half his face and his right arm seared off by the power of the Golden Fruit. He was unable to gain the power of the Cursemark.
But then, his eyes suddenly turned back into those of apathy again, and he picked the child up.
"These people had to die because of you. A failure you are. It's a pity the 28th general was the one who had to take care of you. He was quite strong in his own right."
"…You are still my child anyway, so perhaps I should allow you to live, even after such a sin you have committed."
"Guards! Take this child away, and into the Abyssal Pit… I wish him to never enter my sight again."
•••
Many years later, the apathetic, unfeeling Mountain Lord drew closer attention to the forsaken young Lord, whom he had replaced with many more heirs.
"So, what is he up to in there now?" The Mountain Lord asked.
"At the moment it seems he has killed the Ink Serpent in the Abyssal Pit and drank its blood so that he could cultivate the tiny sliver of the Crimson Heart that he bore in his heart."
"His rage has completely consumed him, and as well as spending his entire life in the dark, with no love shown to him at all… I believe he has made himself a vow to kill you eventually, Mountain Lord."
"Hm. Unfortunately, it seems he has taken the largest share of my qualities with him. But, he dares even think he can try to kill me? What a foolish idea."
"Indeed, Mountain Lord. It may be because he had yet to see why you are one of the most brutal and animalistic Onis in history."
"Then, let me show him." The Mountain Lord boomed, his voice echoing throughout the pagoda.
"Tell him to cultivate his power in a secluded place, perhaps a cave, for another few years, because a war will happen soon, and I will allow him to be let out so that our Mountain Tyrant Sect can begin our takeover of the Western Midlands."
The Western Midlands he referred to was a large territory west to the centre of the Eastern Continent. And, with the power of a major force, the Mountain Tyrant Sect, following his lead as the Oni, Sloth Demon, blood would appear on the battlefields of war soon again.
"Tell him, tell every single one of my children that the lands will be overthrown by blood and the flames of war once again."