The throne room has a handful of spectators, each of them watching the sight in front of them with mix of glee and arousal. All of those gathered were some of the most powerful in the Demon Kingdom and from its various servant races. Blood demons, ascended slimes, and even a token kobold dot the masses of prominent incubi and greater demon lords. All of them had gathered to see the new demon lord after their previous leader was slain in battle with the Kobold King and the Alliance's Hero. The tales of the battle were still a mystery but the coronation of their new leader wasn't; the death of the previous Demon Lord required a new one to rule and rebuild the army and forces. Demons had ruled Daesal for centuries and now the upstart humans and their allies had dealt them a deadly blow.
The source of this arousal and glee was two-part; the new Demon Lord was the young Demon of Death Brallmamoth and at his side was his mother's companion, the now-Great Succubus herself, Orsha Lovestruck. Her part in the war had let her lead their forces but now she had to leave the frontline and her harem behind to oversee this affair. The sheer presence of her abilities aroused countless members of the court... but none of this was pleasure.
"Lady Orsha," the demon on the throne speaks up to get her attention, turning his head so that he can see past his ivory horns. "This ceremony is beneath you... but I appreciate you coming here."
She doesn't move, knowing all-too-well that bowing now would only seduce half the crowd with her magical garb's design. "Of course. It is an honor to provide my service to you as I did your mother. My family has seen to the protection of the Demon Lords all this time... and to think the first known death happened on my watch. Perhaps... it is good that my family has no heirs."
Brallmamoth looks back to the court and raises a hand to greet the first group of lords coming to swear fealty after his coronation.
"Do you expect me to believe that? Neither my mother nor me think you upheld the contract with my grandfather. If you have a child, it is better to bring them into the fold, don't you think?"
"... No. If I had such a child, including them would be the worst decision we could imagine. For all of Daesal, no less."
That statement draws his attention again but she turns her gaze to the crowd to disengage the discussion and leave him to formalities. Her mind had a single thought at the reminder of her lie's sole truth.
Leaving that bastard with his father may have been the only thing that saved our entire kingdom.
The Demon Kingdom had lost much of its lands over the years, particularly those closest to the human nations. If he was still alive, it was undoubtedly there that her child had survived. The Demonic Fringes were a place so rural and dangerous that him surviving was all but near impossible. But if he hadn't died, then it would soon be time to ensure he was: in the coming days would be the Cambion Full Moon: an event that occurs once every twenty-five years that awakens the bloodline of any cambion. All the legends say that it can awaken the power of someone only when they're born, but few cambion aren't exposed to it when they're had and none have survived and been recorded as acquiring anything if they did. If her brat was still alive, though, it was a risk she couldn't put off any longer.
She had to go or at least send someone to deal with him. Her attention shifts to the crowd of loyal soldiers and spies at her beck and call... and settles her attention on the newest member of them whom had stood out over the last few years of service.
All it took was a look and her orders were sent through the magical bond dominating all those loyal to her family. The shadow nodded and vanished into the crowd immediately.
----------------------------------------
"Hazel! You fucking louse!"
The hammock rocks as the young man in it turns over, grumbling and letting the messy blonde hair further block the already-limited light cast into the barn's upper area. But that worked only for a moment before a rock sails through the window and hits him dead-on. The hammock twists as he jerks around, the motion too fast and sending him toppling out of it to the wooden floor with a hard thud. The instant he hits the ground makes him scream.
"Ow! Fuck!"
He rubs his shoulder where the rock hit him, opening his eyes and pushing himself partly up to stare into the blinding brightness and let his eyes adjust.
Down below, an older tan-skinned man was grabbing another rock off the cleared ground of their barn, his black hair greying on its edges and the steel silver of his eyes glaring up at Hazel as he threw another.
This time it hit Hazel in the face, making him roll back and over the edge of his "room" before falling into the hay bales gathered below.
"Hurry up and wake up! If you're not out here in the next five minutes to help me cut this wheat, I'll cut off your worthless hands! No one wants a leech for a son, much less one who can't do anything on his own!"
Hazel sighs and ignores the stinging pain from between his eyes. Flinching and recoiling away from the rock had spared him the worst of the pain anyway. He sits upright and brushes the hay off his old shirt — one of the few his father bought him when he was coming of age — and gets up onto his feet. He walks over to the half-broken mirror he'd found last year in one of the few caravan wrecks that had actually been found and giving himself a once-over.
"Still breathing," he grumbles, his normally-soothing voice graveled from lack of drinking anything today or last night. "Still gorgeous, too. Heh."
As far as men went, he was at least blessed with his mother's looks and not his father's; the darker and naturally tanned skin of his father was all he inherited, whilst his messy blonde hair and pink eyes were curtesy of the now-absent woman.
"Dad told me that a cambion mutt like me normally takes after the man... guess it proves he isn't one."
Hazel chuckles and angles the mirror somewhat to look over the rest of his dressed body. His shirt had longer sleeves given the cooler seasons finally starting to approach with the coming harvest, but he still wore his burlap shorts and sandals for now. Although he didn't have particularly handsome features to brag about, the poor choice of his clothes and his messy shoulder-length hair certainly didn't let him look too appealing to the girls.
Not that the village had any worth the effort. All of them were either prudes or wanted commitment. And that was nothing he wanted; he was born with a gift and deserved a harem of girls and nothing but the best. Dreams were the only place he could actually get what he wanted, though, in this shithole of the Fringes.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Maybe the Eterna Empire will change things if we get absorbed by them. I hear they have slaves and don't care if you're cambion as long as you're useful. Even a powerless one like me.
No others like him lived in their village and maybe it was a good thing from how he was treated; all of his life, Hazel had been nothing more than a workhorse for his father. Cambion blood that lay dormant still had a pivotal use: granting improved stamina. Although he was average like most peasants, his ability to recover from arduous work made him almost on par with a plow-pulling bull.
And that's why his father needed him: to pull the scythed plow. Hazel was growing tired of this monotony but what else could he do? His education had been effectively just on farming, defending the farm, and obeying his father. The only disobeying he could afford was the last one.
He sighs and turns, heading out of the barn and finally into the late afternoon sunlight. Waiting outside, of course, was his still pissed-off father.
"About time," he grumbles, arms crossed. "If people knew the descendant of the village's best archer was such a worthless sack of shit, I'd be a laughing stock. When are you going to start giving a damn?"
"When it gets me somewhere, Dad."
Hazel's statement earns him a bigger scowl but a moment of satisfaction; his old man turns and leads the way whilst his attention shifts up to the sky.
"Tonight's the first night of the full moon, right?"
"Yeah," his father answered without looking back."
"Am I going to still be working by the time it comes out?"
"Depends on how hard and how fast you work."
Hazel chuckles. "Hard and fast, just the way the girls'll like it."
That makes his father turn around and immediately hit Hazel in the forehead with the back of his hand. Hazel curses and turns away just in time to avoid the brutal follow-up smack.
"You and that mouth! If you put in as much time trying to sass and talk back, you'd at least be able to do something besides pull a fucking plow!"
He turns and keeps walking while Hazel stands there, peeking out at his father for a long moment before settling down and following. It wasn't that Hazel hadn't tried, but that his talent and heart wasn't in it.
Father tried teaching me how crops grow, but they always wilt no matter if I follow his exact instructions. When he started guiding me on how to use a bow, I kept snapping the strings or losing my grip. What does he expect me to do if I just can't do it? The only thing I was decent at was talking and the only friends I had all left or don't come by because of their families. What sort of life does he expect from me!?
Over twenty-five years, Hazel had never felt at home or too close to his father but that gap only widened the longer he stayed on the farm. If he had literally any other option, he would take it and leave this awful place behind for good. But the gods and fortune never look kindly on his kind, much less than actually help them.
He sighed and set his mind into auto-pilot, trying to think of all the cute girls he'd known as they approach the plow. Whenever he let his mind wander was when Hazel felt the most at ease... and when he was at ease, pulling a heavy plow like this was easy. It was probably one of the reasons he could have been good if they scouted him for the army as a supply worker. The sooner the Eterna Empire arrived, the better; they would conscript him like they do all their new lands' oldest sons. It was a chance to finally live a better life and he wouldn't miss it.
----------------------------------------
Hours of pulling the plow and walking through wheat had wore him out. The sun had set and the moon was rising but hidden behind the clouded sky. His father had turned in for the night after ensuring Hazel would finish the last few lines of crops, but he had simply left it undone anyway to go back to the barn.
it was inside the barn that he at least had some level of freedom. When they sold off their work horses last year it had become truly his own home, with scattered decoration and mementos dotting it.
He sat near the mirror resting in one of the hay bales of newly cut wheat, relaxed and watching his reflection in the candle-lit darkness. It wasn't a true candle, of course, but a torch he prepared and lit whenever he wasn't tired but was still up-and-about.
Tonight he was simply looking himself over again with a bit more scrutiny, particularly focusing on the bruise from where his father nailed him with the rock earlier today.
"That old fuck," he grumbles. "All I want is to sleep. Why can't he just do the work? I'm the only one actually doing work these days while he rots from old age."
A splinter of moonlight passes into the barn as he talks to himself, losing itself in the fire's glow just before reaching him.
"Why did I have to be born with these eyes? If not for them, it'd be impossible to know I was a cambion."
Hazel smiles, but immediately turns his head away at the sight of his sharper canine teeth. They, too, were a sign of demonic bloodlines.
Even being happy makes it impossible to forget I'm just some shit-luck cambion who didn't amount to anything.
He grabs his torch and tosses it into the nearby trough of water, no longer wanting to think about or see his reflection.
But in that moment the light goes out, the moonlight passing inside through the overcast clouds — through all odds — hits him.
[https://i.imgur.com/tvp9xV4.png]
Hazel's vision is obscured by a glowing blue panel, making him recoil and fall from the hay trying to get away from it. When that fails, he tries to swing at it, simply swiping his hands through it.
"What the fuck is all this!? I don't-"
His words caught in his throat as the moonlight shines brighter, its touch on him burning. He screams and tries to slip further back, but can't move anywhere else thanks to the wall of the livestock stable. Everything in his body hurts, but it's a far stretch from the sudden eruption of blue flame on his chest where the beam strikes him. All the air sucks out of his lungs and Hazel's voice goes with it, gasping and writhing under the lunar beam as the window blinks away.
The date of this Cambion Full Moon is 0 KC, 2nd Month on the 4th Day at its 24th Hour.
Hazel's kicking slows as the remnants of his shirt are burned off and his tanned skin crisps beneath the otherworldly flame, his pink eyes dimming as numbers and words flash over screens of blue. Explanations and what looks like idle chatter mix up and tear at his beleaguered consciousness, all fighting to stand out and imprint on him. That sole line pulses clearer than the rest before a second etches itself into his very being, his entire body bursting into an azure pyre.
Cambion Hazel Lovestruck, we sentence you to death. Your punishment for your wasted life... is to be our pawn.
The lifeless figure of Hazel continues burning for many minutes... but as the flames begin to die down and fade, so too does the blinding light hiding his form within. The bones of his body regrow his muscles and insides, then the layer of skin above them. Just as he had looked before, he did now. Inside his chest now, however, was a second heart beating with such intensity that it echoed within the barn.
We gift to you new life. We give you a body rebuilt and able to grow. We give you our guideline, a tool we have never used in our entire time ruling this world.
Outside, the night sky's clouds finally part in their entirety, revealing the blue moon and the brighter-than-normal stars beating around it. And as the clouds go away, so too does the last of the flames on Hazel's body. His blonde hair now holds a blue tint near its frayed edges and his lifeless pink eyes burn hotter until they suddenly gleam bright red.
You are not the hero we wanted but you will be the figure we need. In exchange for our trade... you will right this world's course before it is too late.
These words pounded into his soul and restarted his heart, all the function of his body returning. Despite being left naked on the floor of the barn, Hazel died and overcame death all in a moment. His very being had been changed but despite everything he couldn't truly grasp the gravity of this situation yet. All his memories were being poured back into him and reconstructing him was going to take time. The fierce energy of his eyes dimmed once more into their faint pink, lulling and closing as he was put to sleep by the system.
User has entered a Resting State. Initializing upgraded systems...
Defining world values within system...
Completed. Daesal Pawn Program v0.6 Engaged.