Four more years had slipped by. It felt surreal, like a dream I'd almost wake up from. My wife, Elira, gave birth to twins—a boy and a girl. I named them Aeris and Lyra, names that rolled off the tongue like whispers of hope. For a time, it seemed I had everything. The cheers of the people echoed through the streets. The empire thrived. My family, my crown, my people—it was perfect. Wasn't it? I should have known better. Perfection was an illusion, a cruel jest the gods played on mortals.
The nightmares began not long after. Whispers in the dark. Visions of blood and ash.
It started small: rumors of beasts—not the kind that prowled forests or lurked in shadowy caves. These were something else entirely. Demonic creatures, twisted beyond recognition, their forms a mockery of life itself. They spread like a plague, consuming everything in their path. And then came the demons themselves.
We rallied. Kingdoms that had been rivals for centuries joined forces. An army unlike any the world had seen marched to meet the tide of darkness.
The demons overwhelmed us.
We—no, I—thought we could turn the tide. Seven master-ranked warriors, my father among them, and I, an emperor. We'd faced the unthinkable before, hadn't we? We had defeated monsters, quelled rebellions, reshaped the very fabric of this world. But nothing had prepared us for the demon viscount.
***
The battlefield was chaos incarnate. The air stank of blood, sulfur, and the sickly-sweet scent of decay. I stood amidst the carnage, my spear slick with the ichor of demonic beasts. Around me, the seven other master-ranked warriors fought valiantly. My father, still a force to be reckoned with despite his age, fought at my side. Together, we tore through the swarm of abominations, but the true enemy had yet to reveal itself.
And then it appeared.
The Demon Viscount emerged from the shadows like a nightmare given flesh. Its form was grotesque—a twisted mockery of a goat and a man. A humanoid torso rippled with muscle, covered in blackened, leathery skin that shimmered like oil. Its face was unmistakably goat-like, with burning crimson eyes and curved horns that crackled with dark energy. Tentacle-like appendages sprouted from its back, writhing and lashing out as if they had minds of their own. Its claws dripped with the blood of its previous victims, and its presence alone seemed to sap the courage of even the bravest warriors.
It spoke, its voice a deep, guttural mockery of human speech. "Mortals," it sneered. "You've gathered to defy me? How quaint."
The battle that followed was nothing short of a massacre.
We attacked as one, a coordinated strike meant to overwhelm even a grandmaster-ranked being. My father led the charge, his greatsword ablaze with the light of holy enchantments. I followed close behind, flanking the demon alongside a pair of twins—brothers who wielded dual blades with masterful precision. A sorceress chanted from the rear, her voice rising above the chaos as she summoned a storm of elemental fury to rain down upon the Viscount.
Our attacks struck true. Blades carved into its flesh, and bolts of lightning scorched its hide. For a moment, it seemed we might have the upper hand. And then it laughed.
"Pathetic," it said, brushing aside our combined assault as if it were nothing more than an annoyance. Its tentacles lashed out, catching the twins mid-strike. They screamed as the appendages tore them apart, their bodies reduced to mangled heaps before they even hit the ground. The sorceress's chant faltered, her concentration broken by a mind attack. The demon capitalized on her hesitation, a single clawed hand impaling her through the chest and silencing her forever.
Rage consumed me. I lunged forward, my spear aimed for the demon's heart. It caught the weapon mid-thrust, its claws wrapping around the shaft with impossible strength. With a flick of its wrist, it snapped the spear in two and sent me flying. I crashed into the ground, the impact driving the air from my lungs. Through blurred vision, I saw my father charge the creature, his greatsword swinging in a wide arc. The blade met the demon's neck but stopped short, unable to penetrate the dense, unnatural flesh.
The Viscount retaliated with a swipe of its claws, and my father fell. His blood painted the battlefield as he crumpled to the ground, his weapon clattering beside him. I screamed his name, but there was no time to grieve. The demon turned its gaze upon me, its eyes alight with malice.
"Your turn," it said.
The fight devolved into a desperate struggle for survival. The remaining master-ranked warriors fought with everything they had, each displaying skills honed over decades of battle. But it wasn't enough. The demon was toying with us, its movements almost lazy as it dispatched us one by one.
I watched as a knight—a man whose name I'd once heard spoken with reverence—was impaled through the stomach. The demon lifted him into the air, letting his blood drip onto the ground before tossing him aside like a broken doll. Another warrior, a woman with a flaming axe, managed to sever one of the demon's tentacles, only to be decapitated moments later by another.
It was relentless. Unstoppable. And then it turned its attention to my family.
***
It stood before us, grotesque and regal, its aura suffocating. It didn't fight. It played. We were insects to it, scrambling in the dirt while it plucked us apart. It laughed, a sound that burrowed into my skull and echoed there, long after its lips had stopped moving. And then, it decided to make me watch.
Elira. Aeris. Lyra.
They'd been evacuated to safety, or so I'd believed. But the viscount had them. He brought them to the battlefield, dragging their trembling forms into the light of the carnage. My wife screamed my name, her voice raw, her eyes searching for me as though I could save her. My children cried, their tiny hands reaching out.
I tried. I swear to every god above and below, I tried. My legs were lead. My mana reserves were dry. My spear, my trusted weapon, felt like a twig in my hands. I lunged, but the demon swatted me aside like a pest. I hit the ground hard, coughing blood. My vision blurred, but not enough to spare me from what came next. It held me down with its tentacles.
It… it…
It tore them apart. Slowly. Deliberately. Elira's screams turned to gurgles, then silence. Aeris and Lyra… their little bodies crumpled, lifeless. The viscount laughed, tossing their broken forms to its beasts. I saw them devoured. I saw teeth sink into my wife's chest, into my son's face, into my daughter's…
No. No, no, no, no.
Something inside me snapped. I screamed until my throat bled, until the sound that came out wasn't human anymore. I raged. I fought. I failed.
I don't remember much of what happened next. Rage consumed me, blinding and all-encompassing. I broke free of the demon's grip—how, I don't know—and launched myself at it with nothing but my bare hands. I struck it again and again, my fists colliding with its unyielding flesh. It let me, its laughter growing louder with each futile blow.
When it finally grew bored, it ended me with a single strike. Its claws pierced my chest, shattering my ribs and puncturing my lungs. I fell to my knees, my vision darkening as blood filled my mouth. The demon leaned in close, its burning eyes the last thing I saw.
"You fought well," it said mockingly. "But in the end, mortals are all the same. Weak. Helpless."
And then it was my turn.
The viscount's claws pierced my chest, cold and unyielding. I felt my ribs crack, my lungs collapse. Blood filled my throat, spilling from my lips in a choking gurgle. It lifted me, holding me aloft like a trophy. I looked into its eyes, those black, empty voids, and saw nothing but malice.
It spoke, though I couldn't hear the words. My ears were ringing, my vision darkening. But I felt the intent. Contempt. Amusement. Triumph.
As it tossed me aside, like a broken doll, I lay there in the dirt, staring at the sky. The battle raged on around me, but it was distant now, muffled. My body was broken. My mana was gone. My family was gone.
Why? Why had it come to this? What had I done wrong? I had everything, didn't I? The love of my people, a thriving empire, a family. What was the point of it all if I couldn't protect them? What was the use of strength, of power, of titles, if it all amounted to nothing in the end?
Tears mixed with the blood on my face. My breaths came in ragged gasps, each one harder than the last. And then, as the edges of my vision began to blacken, it appeared.
A screen. An imaginary, illusory thing that hovered before me. My mind was slipping, my thoughts fragmented, but I focused on it. Words scrawled across the surface, though my bloodied eyes could barely make them out.
{True Name: Chains of Liberation}
Chains of Liberation.
What did it mean? Why did it appear now, at the end? The words blurred, the screen fading as my consciousness slipped away. But they lingered, etched into the remnants of my mind.
Chains of Liberation. The words echoed in my mind as everything else faded to black. My chains had bound me to this life, to this pain. And now, in death, they would bind me still.
Year 987 of Stratis Calender,The battlefield was silent, save for the whispers of the wind. The Demon Viscount stood amidst the carnage, victorious. The bodies of the fallen lay scattered around it, their blood soaking the earth. And in the distance, the twisted remnants of what had once been a thriving kingdom burned.
This was the end.