The cold, frozen snowfall brushed against the tip of Ian's nose, but he barely noticed. His forest-green eyes were locked on the blazing inferno below.
"Cold, yet warm," he murmured to himself, his breath visible in the frigid air.
Winter had come. For most, it was a time to stay indoors, wrapped in blankets and warmed by the soft glow of a fireplace. But for the people of the capital, winter's arrival brought no comfort.
The streets were chaos. Flames devoured homes, ashes painted the sky black, and the once-proud city lay in ruin. From his perch atop the clock tower, Ian observed the carnage with an unsettling calm. Clad in a sharp black suit, his hand rested on a silver pocket watch. He closed his eyes for a moment and spoke softly.
"If there is a God, may He bear witness to this," he whispered, "and let this capital drown in the fires of retribution."
Behind him, a boy with tousled blue hair floated lazily in the air, his crimson eyes alight with glee. His expression radiated mischief, a cheeky grin spread wide across his face as he watched the destruction below.
"Humans, humans, humans… Always so fragile," the boy, the Demon King, mused with amusement. "You gave them warmth, yet they scorn you for it. Isn't that funny?"
Ian didn't reply immediately. His gaze lingered on the flames and the scurrying figures below, his grip tightening on his pocket watch.
"General Winterbell," the Demon King called mockingly, tilting his head. "You're awfully quiet tonight. Regretting this already?"
Ian turned, his expression unreadable. "No, Your Majesty. This is long overdue."
The Demon King laughed, clapping his hands together. "That's the spirit! Though, I have to say, for someone as ruthless as you, you think too much about the past. It's written all over your face."
Ian's lips curved into a bitter smile, but he said nothing. His eyes shifted to the streets below, where a familiar figure stood amidst the chaos—a woman.
Her golden hair shone even in the dim light of the fires, and her sapphire eyes darted about in panic. Triane Velathor.
Once, he had loved her. Once, she had been his everything. Now, all Ian felt was a cold, empty hatred. The staff in her hand glowed faintly with magic as she shouted orders to the soldiers around her, trying to rally them. But Ian knew better.
"Traitor," he muttered under his breath.
The Demon King noticed his focus and followed his gaze. "Oh? Someone you know?"
Ian's jaw tightened. "A woman who taught me that betrayal cuts deeper than any blade."
Triane's voice reached him, desperate and trembling. "Ian! This isn't you! The demons… They've corrupted you! You're not yourself!"
Ian smirked, his expression cold. "Always so quick to assume. This is who I am, Triane. And it always has been."
A deafening explosion echoed from the western gate, shaking the ground. Soldiers scrambled, shouts of alarm rising as the swarm of demons breached the city walls. Flames erupted, spreading like a living thing.
The Demon King clapped gleefully, spinning in the air. "They're like ants, running from a magnifying glass! Glorious, isn't it?"
Ian turned his gaze to Triane one last time. She stood frozen, biting her lip, her confidence wavering.
An arrow whizzed through the air, aiming straight for Ian, but the Demon King lazily raised a hand. A shimmering shield appeared, deflecting the arrow with ease. He snatched the arrow mid-air and examined it with a grin before tossing it aside.
Ian followed the arrow's trajectory to its source: a woman standing atop a tower, her bow still raised. Rania, the Saint of Luminaire.
Her blue gown billowed in the cold wind, and her eyes locked onto Ian's with a mixture of sadness and desperation. Ian recognized that look. It was the same one she had as a child, crying silently during church ceremonies, praying for salvation.
The Demon King snickered. "Saints. Always so dramatic. Shall I deal with her, General?"
Ian shook his head. "Leave her. She's not the target tonight."
The Demon King shrugged, still grinning. "Fine, fine. Your plans are always so… meticulous. What's next, then? Should I burn more houses? Or do we wait for the fun to really start?"
Ian's voice was firm. "We head north."
The Demon King waved his hand, and in a flash, they teleported to the northern district.
The northern region of the capital was thought to be untouchable. A vast lake surrounded it, and the bridge connecting it to the forest of Clancy was heavily guarded. The citizens, desperate to escape, had packed themselves onto the five-hundred-meter-long bridge.
"They think the water will save them," Ian remarked, his tone cold. "How naive."
The waters below churned, and a figure emerged—a mermaid with shimmering blue scales. She swam up to Ian, saluting crisply.
"Sir! The Leviathan, sirens, and Kraken are in position. Awaiting your command!"
Ian nodded. "Good. Begin the operation. Sink the bridge."
A deafening explosion rocked the area as the bridge collapsed, sending citizens plunging into the icy water. Tentacles lashed out, dragging the screaming masses below. Sirens and mermaids swarmed the waters, their deadly songs drowning out the cries for help.
Ian watched in silence as the chaos unfolded, his expression unreadable.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" the Demon King said, floating beside him. "Your plans never disappoint, General."
Ian gripped his pocket watch tightly, his gaze distant. "This is what they deserve."
His mind drifted back to the past—the betrayal, the mocking laughter of the nobles, the hollow praises of a family that never truly saw him.
Once, he had wanted to protect this city. Now, he would see it burn.
"This is my revenge," he whispered, his voice firm. Snow continued to fall, mingling with the smoke and ashes of the burning capital.
The Demon King grinned, spreading his arms wide. "Revenge never tasted so sweet, does it?"
Ian didn't reply. He simply turned his gaze to the distant palace, where the royals and heroes cowered.
"Let the flames consume them all."