The soldiers of Duke Driesell were retreating swiftly, carrying the gravely injured hero toward safety.
The Demon King, his crimson eyes burning with fury, flared his wings and prepared to pursue them.
“Out of my way!” he roared, his voice resonating with unbridled rage as he charged at Duke Driesell, who stood firm in his path.
The duke, his face stoic but his eyes resolute, raised his sword as his body crackled with intense thunder.
Each spark of lightning illuminated the battlefield, his very presence a defiant challenge to the monstrous foe.
With a swift motion, he slashed through the Demon King’s left arm, the blade infused with thunder cutting through flesh and scales.
But the Demon King didn’t flinch.
He bellowed in defiance, his remaining arm moving with terrifying speed, grabbing the duke and hurling him across the crumbling battlefield like a ragdoll.
Driesell smashed into the ground, the impact creating a crater.
Yet he refused to stay down.
As the Demon King turned to take flight, his massive wings unfurling to chase the fleeing hero, Driesell clenched his bloodied fists around his sword and leaped into the air with a thunderous crack.
Lightning surged around him, and with pinpoint precision, he landed on the Demon King’s back.
His blade pierced through the unyielding scales, slicing into ribs and releasing a torrent of crimson.
The electricity crackling from the sword surged into the Demon King’s body, eliciting a guttural roar of pain.
The Demon King thrashed violently, his claws reaching for the duke.
“You insolent worm!” he growled, his voice trembling with pain and fury.
He managed to grab Driesell by the neck and yanked him off his back, slamming him into the ground with a force that shook the earth.
Dazed but undeterred, Driesell rolled away just in time to avoid a follow-up blow.
He struggled to his feet, his breaths labored and his body battered.
Blood streamed down his face, yet the thunder in his veins only intensified.
Sparks danced along his armor as if the very heavens were answering his call.
“Fine,” the Demon King snarled, his patience gone.
His wings beat once, kicking up a gust that toppled debris and sent dust into the air.
“I’ll kill you first.”
Driesell wiped blood from his mouth, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
“You’ll try.”
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With that, he charged.
The Demon King lunged forward, his claws aiming to crush the duke.
But Driesell was ready.
With a roar that rivaled the storm above, he leaped into the air.
His blade, glowing with thunder, plunged directly into the Demon King’s chest, piercing his heart.
A deafening clap of thunder followed, and a bolt of lightning struck the point of contact, illuminating the battlefield in blinding light.
The Demon King howled in agony, his monstrous form writhing as the divine thunder coursed through him, burning him from within.
Yet Driesell did not stop.
Even as blood poured from his own wounds, he wrenched the blade free and began slashing relentlessly.
With each swing of his sword, more of the Demon King’s limbs were severed.
First an arm, then a leg—each strike was deliberate, fueled by unwavering determination.
The Demon King’s roars turned into guttural growls as his once-mighty body was reduced to pieces.
He collapsed to the ground, his wings shredded, his limbs gone.
But even as he lay in ruin, his crimson eyes glared at Driesell with hatred and defiance.
Driesell, his body trembling from exhaustion, stood over the Demon King’s mutilated form. Lightning flickered weakly around him, his strength nearly depleted.
He raised his sword for one final strike, his voice low but resolute.
“For Conrad… and for the king.”
With a final burst of thunder, he brought his blade down, aiming to finish the Demon King once and for all.
----
Duke Driesell stood amidst the ruins, his sword lowered at his side, his chest rising and falling heavily.
The body of the Demon King lay in pieces before him, but there was no relief in his eyes—no victory to celebrate.
Deep down, he knew this wasn’t over.
The air was thick with a sinister energy, and his instincts screamed at him to stay on guard.
And then it began.
The severed pieces of the Demon King’s body started to shimmer unnaturally, their crimson hue darkening until they turned into a viscous, black liquid.
The grotesque substance slithered across the battlefield, converging into a single mass.
It grew and twisted, pulsating as if alive.
A sound—a deep, guttural rumble that seemed to come from the depths of hell—resonated across the field, freezing all who heard it.
From the writhing black mass, a colossal creature began to rise.
It towered over the city buildings, a formless, nightmarish being that seemed to defy nature itself.
The soldiers and monsters who had been locked in combat outside the gates stopped in their tracks, their gazes locked in horror at the monstrosity emerging inside the city.
This was Demon King’s true form..
The creature had no discernible shape.
It lacked eyes, limbs, or any identifiable features save for one: an enormous, gaping maw filled with jagged, blackened teeth.
It radiated an overwhelming sense of dread, its very presence crushing the spirits of all who beheld it.
The air grew colder, heavier, as if the world itself recoiled in fear.
There are two ways of finishing Demon King.
Either use divine power at him or defeat his true form.
But latter is difficult even with divine power.
Driesell’s grip tightened around his sword as he stared up at the monstrosity.
The creature let out a blood-curdling screech that shook the earth, the sound vibrating in Driesell’s bones.
It began to move—if such a thing could be called movement.
Its massive, undulating form slithered forward, leaving a trail of corruption in its wake.
Houses withered and crumbled, stone structures dissolved into dust, and the ground itself seemed to rot beneath its presence.
Then it began to consume.
Its gaping maw opened impossibly wide, and anything in its path was sucked into its endless void.
There was no strategy, no thought.
This was a creature of pure, unrelenting hunger.
Driesell didn’t wait for it to come to him.
He charged forward, lightning crackling around his body, his sword blazing with thunderous energy.
With a mighty roar, he swung his blade, releasing a wave of electricity that surged toward the creature.
The attack struck its inky mass, but it barely flinched.
The thunder dissipated into the darkness, swallowed as if it had never existed.
The duke gritted his teeth, his heart pounding.
“I won’t let you take another step!” he shouted, launching himself into the air.
He brought his sword down with all his strength, slashing deep into the creature’s amorphous body.
Black liquid splattered across the ground, hissing and smoking as it landed, but the wound closed almost instantly.
The creature’s massive maw turned toward him, and in an instant, a tendril of darkness shot out, striking Driesell and sending him crashing to the ground.
He coughed violently, blood spilling from his mouth, but he pushed himself back up.
His armor was cracked, his body battered, but his determination remained unbroken.
“Is this all you’ve got?” he muttered, his voice strained.
His sword crackled with renewed energy as he prepared to strike again.
The battle raged on, but no matter how many times Driesell attacked, the creature regenerated, its form unyielding and its hunger insatiable.
He dodged its tendrils, narrowly avoiding being consumed, but his strength was waning.
The ground beneath him was littered with scorch marks from his thunderous strikes, but the creature continued its advance.
As he fought, memories began to flood his mind—memories of his wife’s laughter, the way she used to scold him for spending too less time with his family.
Memories of his children’s smiles, their training and journey.
He had barely spent much time with them and told them later there would be time.
Later.
But now, there would be no later.
A sharp pain lanced through his chest—not from the battle, but from the regret that now consumed him.
He had failed them.
He had failed to protect his family, his people, his kingdom.
The creature’s maw opened wide, a vortex of darkness swirling within it.
Driesell tried to move, to strike again, but his body refused to obey.
His strength was gone.
The last thing he saw was the gaping void rushing toward him, a cold, unrelenting darkness that consumed everything in its path.
As the creature devoured him, the duke’s final thoughts were not of the battle, or the kingdom, or even the Demon King.
They were of his family—their faces, their voices, their love.
A single tear slipped down his cheek as the darkness engulfed him.
And then, he was gone.