Ulric Black does not know what it truly means to be a half-demon until many, many years later. Not because he does not know that his father was a demon that seduced his human mother, no, but merely because he failed to consider the ramifications of being a half-breed.

His first inkling of what it meant to be one of demonkind came during the climax of his first battle. As a citizen of Whitestone, a military city state, Ulric was taught the way of the sword and the axe just as the rest of the human children were. He was taught to wield the blade, hold the axe, all for the safety and security of the city he was destined to serve. 

In his first campaign against the Wolfmen of the Furion Forest, fangs of silver savagery tore into his neck and shoulder blade. 

It was not the blood that poured forth, nor the flesh that was ripped from his neck that had disturbed him, but the fact that he remained standing, despite the excruciating pain when another man might have collapsed instantly. 

His body does not fall, does not buckle, nor stagger. He remains standing, despite the blood pouring down his shoulders and arms. He is surprised. He knew, well everyone knew, that he had increased healing capabilities as a half-demon. However, this is beyond increased recovery or alleviation of pain. This is something else. 

Later, when he is carted back to the city and sent to the recovery bay, laying in his white linen bed, he is silent, pondering the latest events. His friends are fretting, asking him what happened, asking him if he was okay. 

Ulric doesn’t say anything, the voices of his friends and fellow soldiers muffled and distant. His mind drifts back to the event. The blood, the smell, the flesh ripping. 

And the way he felt no pain during it all. 

***

Despite what many people might believe, the first time Ulric Black kills a man is not the first time he activates his father’s demonic flame magic, an uncontrollable flame that can only be generated and tamed by demonic blood, that is to say Ulric’s blood. 

The first time he activated his demon magic was many years ago, as a boy on the cold streets of Whitestone, begging for shelter and food, before he was taken in by the military. On the streets, where the savagery of mankind was most potent, is the first time Ulric faces the brutality of his blood. 

He could remember it like it was yesterday. It was a cold night like any other, and Ulric was hungrier than he had ever been. His hunger led him to make a mistake, one every orphan in Whitestone’s ghetto knew never to make. 

He asked for food from the most powerful gang in town, the boys and girls who were in charge of the orphans and street rats of the back streets. The Silver Bucks, they called themselves. And well, when you asked the Silver Bucks for anything, that always came with a price. 

“If you want a favor from us, you need to pay the price, demon boy.” Their leader, a lad named Buck, was an especially cruel boy. He was big and strong and angry at the world, but he also knew his strength was only enough for the younger kids that he and his fellows ruled over. So, as all tyrants do, he pushed down the weak so he didn’t feel weak.

The price, as all the street rats knew, was violence. If you could handle Buck’s hits, he would help you and most likely take you under his wing. If not, well, that would be the end of that street rat’s sad little story. 

Ulric received punch after punch, kick after kick. When Buck and his boys were done, Ulric’s face was dented in, bruised and bleeding. Spitting on his body, Buck turned his back and left Ulric to his fate. 

He made no more than five steps before crimson, angry flames consumed both Buck and his lackeys.  

As Ulric, consumed in crimson flame, moved to stand, his wounds are already healing themselves. His wounds on his shut eyes recedes so his eyes can open, the dark purple bruises disappear, skin knits together as his wounds close. 

Ulric stands there, covered in blood and ash, utterly confused. 

A moment later, the military police arrive on the scene, just as confused as the boy who burned his fellow street rats alive. The soldiers, unsure on what to do except take the boy, and so Ulric is taken into custody and says farewell to Whitestone’s ghetto forever. 

The boy is brought before Atticus Arkadius, the old General of the Whitestone Military, who decides to take the boy under his wing, as his apprentice. 

The trauma and high tension emotions of the night led to Ulric forgetting most of that night, but he would never forget the kindness and respect that General Atticus showed him on that night. 

It would forge him into the man he would become for many, many years to come. 

***

The first person to realize that Ulric’s advanced healing was more than advanced healing is, much to everyone’s surprise, not the General. The first person to realize this is his mother’s sister and the most prolific healer in Whitestone, Alera the Witch, feared and hated in equal measure by the common people. 

She first realizes this when the angry mobs target her nephew because they lack the power to face her, a fully realized sorceress. She finds her sister’s son in front of her shack within the Outer Forest, just outside Whitestone’s walls. Downed and beaten, with his heart carved out of his body, she for the first time in a long time shatters. She wails and screeches and her magic destroys the surrounding trees and bushes that are located near her shack. When she is done, heaving and crying, what was once her shack and the forest is now nothing but a desolate piece of scorched land. 

Despite her long-held loyalty to the city of Whitestone despite her treatment at the hands of its citizens, this is what breaks it. This is what hardens her resolve, a resolve that is prepared to burn the walls of Whitestone, to burn the people in the streets, in their homes, in their sacred places. 

What happens next is what calms her wrath, what ensures Whitestone does not face the wrath of it’s Witch. The heart beats. The heart dislodged from her nephew’s heart beats. 

Alera is in disbelief, not sure whether to be happy or utterly terrified. Still, she does not have the time to decide either way. Despite her fear of what this could insinuate, she uses her knowledge of magic and medicine to reconnect the body and the heart. She gets to work. 

As she works to revive him, Alera is unnerved. As his heart begins beating faster and stronger, Alera is scared. As his fingers begin to twitch and wiggle, Alera is absolutely terrified. Not of her nephew, but for what this could mean for his future, what his fate had in store for him. 

Alera is the Witch. She recognises the unnatural, the impossible, when she sees it, hidden as it is. As powerful as her magic was, as knowledge as she was in the field of medicine, a recovery should have been impossible. Yet, despite that, her nephew, his chest covered in dried blood, was now seated on the wooden table, looking at her with an arched eyebrow. 

“Aunt Alera, why am I here?” He questioned, his hand touching the sticky blood on his chest. “What happened?”

Alera couldn’t respond. Her fear finally accumulated in an answer to her quandary, an answer that she was not willing to give her sister’s son. There is an utterly disgustingly shameful part of her that did not want to give voice to the reality of her nephew’s fate. Alera only prayed she was dead before light needed to be shed on that dark, ugly truth. 

For the first time in all her life, she prayed to the Gods. All of them. That they would have mercy on Ulric’s soul.

***

Talidra first met Ulric in the Whitestone Military Academy. She first took notice of him because of his distance, and his quiet savagery. Everyone knew who Ulric Black was. How could they not? A demon, even a half-breed, living in a human settlement? That was almost unheard of! But, Talidra did not truly know Ulric Black until he faced off against the highest scoring student in their class, Xander Westcaster. 

Xander Westcaster was almost as well known as Ulric. The son of the House of Westcaster, the rulers of Whitestone, he was all but a prince. Handsome, skilled, and utterly arrogant. It was this arrogance that would be his downfall. 

Talidra could remember it like it was yesterday. They were partnered together by their instructor, to test their mettle. Ulric was willing to be quiet, do as he was told and move on. But Xander was not of the same mind. Instead, he chose to bark and curse, and insult Ulric every way he could possibly imagine. Ulric was immovable to all insults, save one. 

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“Ha! I’d expect no less from the bastard of a whore!” The Westcaster heir laughed, it was a cruel, ugly thing. And Ulric snapped.

Talidra had never seen such brutality before. The young half-breed rushed forth, disabling Xander’s guard and unleashing his savagery upon him. Punch after punch, kich after kick, Ulric stomped the rich boy into the ground. As Xander bled and cried for mercy, Ulric was in a red haze of wrath, refusing to budge as Xander’s blood began to splatter onto Ulric’s clothes. 

“Calm down, Black! Now!” It was through the force of multiple instructors that Ulric was removed from Xander, his fists covered in warm blood while Xander was left a pitiable boy on the ground, groaning and crying for his parents. 

That was the last time Ulric ever attended a class again. After that, he was taken under the direct watch of his mentor, General Arkadius, to be trained by the General himself. 

When Ulric returned months later to graduate with the rest of them, Talidra realized that she began to have feelings for him. Feelings that turned to fondness, which later turned out to be a full blown crush. 

That all changed when their graduating class was held hostage by spies from Forium, the neighbouring city state, that had infiltrated the city. 

Locked up with spies who hated their nation and its people, Talidra knew very well what the fates of prisoners, especially female prisoners were. She knew the fate that awaited her. As did Ulric, it seemed. Perhaps that is why he roared and shouted and raged, to take the attention of the spies, the enemy soldiers. And he succeeded, whether that was his intent or not. 

So, they beat him. They started beating him with the intention of bringing him into a state of submission, but they did not know the manner of man Ulric was. He would not submit, even as his skull was smashed into the ground. Even though his skull should be fractured with internal bleeding, Ulric remained steadfast and strong, and all Talidra could think was that Ulric truly was a monster. 

As the enemy soldiers shove a dagger through his eye and out the back of his head, even Talidra thinks that is Ulric’s end as the screeches of the other female soldiers-to-be echo in her ears. But Ulric is stubborn, if not anything else, and his hand grips the dagger that is inside his head and pulls it out without hesitation. 

Talidra screams. She screams and screams and screams. 

Before she realises, as her screams die down, and she opens her bleary eyes, she is face to face with the most horrific site. The enemy is dead. Their bodies are ripped apart, blood has stained the floor and the walls and Ulric is standing in the middle of it all covered in red from head to toe. 

On that day, Talidra forgets how she could ever view Ulric Black as anything but what he was; a monstrous demon who she, as a human, could not love.

Years later, they would call that horrific event the Red Day. 

***

It is years later and Ulric is now in his twentieth year. He has risen through the ranks, he is respected and feared by his allies and his enemies. He is successful. Too successful, the upper brass of Whitestone believe. Being too successful has always been an issue among humans, he later finds out when Lord Zarium Westcaster orders an assassination of the young and powerful knight. 

It does not work in Lord Zarium’s favor. That is to not to say the assassination does not succeed, because it does. A poisoned blade piercing straight through his back, piercing the skin and shattering his spine. It was a guaranteed kill. 

For a human, that is. 

Ulric later thanks the Lord of Whitestone for the attempt. “Thank you, truly, for revealing the truth of your long-held facade.” 

His gratefulness is followed shortly by Ulric’s demonic claws wrapping around Lord Zarium’s neck, and squeezing hard enough to remove his head from his shoulders in one violent, red explosion. He does this in the middle of an emergency council called to assess the threat of Ulric Black. 

With their lord dead at their feet, the Council of Whitestone gazed upon this monster of blood, fire and death in unadulterated fear as he smiled a sickening smile. 

“Next time, you will all join him.” 

From that day forth, never again was there an assasination attempt on Ulric Black, the Black Death of Whitestone. 

***

Ulric is thirty and he has earned a reputation throughout the entire continent as a man not to be challenged. They all whisper about him. He is a monster without mercy, he is a savage without hesitation, he is a blood-letting brute that takes pleasure from the destruction of his enemies. But most importantly they call him the Deathless, the man that does not age, does not wither, does not hurt, does not die. 

But, his enemies argue, that does not mean his loved ones share the same power as the feared Black Death. And thus, they make the greatest mistake of their lives and target those who he cares for. 

Ulric has no choice. He must give an answer. He must make an example. He must once again envelop himself in the shadow of the Black Death, in the fire and the fury of his father’s blood. 

Without the knowledge of Whitestone, of his friends, his fellow soldiers or even his superiors, he disappears for an entire week. His friends fear for him, his fellow soldiers are sent out on search missions, and his superiors fear the loss of their most powerful knight and deterrent against their enemies. 

The news of Forium being burned down to ash, it’s people slaughtered to a man, woman and child reaches Whitestone the same day Ulric returns. He says nothing, but the entire world knows. Whitestone makes no statements, but the world knows it was their demon who burned down an entire city and slaughtered its citizens like they were cattle to the slaughter. 

When people ask Ulric of that day, he repeats but one thing. 

“They had to understand. They had to understand. They had to understand.”

It is no coincidence that Ulric Black is declared Lord of Whitestone a week after his return  and inaugurated as the Lord of the City a few days after that. 

***

Ulric Black has ruled Whitestone for an entire year when he gets married to Elena Westcaster, the eldest daughter of the defeated House Westcaster. 

Elena is a fierce, warrior woman, the complete opposite of her arrogant brother who now is Lord Westcaster to a weakened, fractured house. Ulric has been impressed with her, ever since she publicly denounced her father as a man who neglected his responsibilities to his city for his own love of power and status.

Elena is not impressed or amused by him when he first meets her. She is strict and stern, citing that it was inappropriate for a commanding officer, which he was, to flirt with one of his subordinates. Ulric laughs for what seems like the first time in his strange, dark, bloody life. 

It takes the blade of an assassin removing his right arm and piercing his brain for Elena to realize her feelings. She finds herself sobbing in anger and sorrow at the sight of her leader’s bloody form. She finds herself filled with fear and disbelief when Ulric merely smiles as his skin and flesh reform, looking as good as new. She finds herself observing in utter shock as Ulric easily reaches forward and pierces his flame-covered hand in the assassin’s chest, removing his heart like he was plucking a rock out of a pond, instantly killing the assassin. 

“So, you want to get married or not, Elena?” He had the gall to give her a sharp grin. 

Elena faints, and Ulric laughs. 

It is a few weeks later that the marriage between the Lord of the City and the daughter of House Westcaster is scheduled. 

It is a few months later that they are married with a child on the way. 

This is how Ulric Black starts a family. 

***

Ulric Black is in his fiftieth year and he has not aged a single day since the day he killed Lord Zarium, his predecessor. He realizes this most when he awakens one day in the same way he has for the last twenty years, next to Elena, his wife. He is almost surprised, which is almost impossible for him these days, when he finds his wife of twenty years, her hair now covered in silver strands and her face wrinkled, laying on her back, her eyes blank and not a single breath leaving her lips. 

Ulric grunted. She was dead. There was no doubt. Unbidden, Ulric felt the tears slide down his cheeks before he quickly wiped it away, hearing the hurried footsteps of his children. 

As they entered, screaming and sobbing at the sight of their deceased mother, Ulric felt himself fade into the background, walking back to his office, to get back to work. After all, he had his duty to the living, not the dead. He would do his last duty to his wife and bury her, but he still needed to forge a society that Elena had dreamed of, a society free of war and unnecessary death. 

His children would despise him for his seemingly uncaring nature, he knew, just as his friends did, but duty was all he knew in this immortal life of his. 

***

Two hundred years have passed since his birth. His wife is long, long dead. Even his children, and their children. Only a month ago, the last of his great-great children had breathed the last of their breath in the presence of their children, children that did not know him beyond the mythical Lord of the City who managed to conquer the rest of the city states, rising to become the first Lord of the Continent. 

As Ulric Black walks the streets of Whitestone, he realises that he does not recognise a single member of his city. He does not recognise the knights that followed him, or the children on the streets, or the parents working the day away. He has come to the realization that Whitestone is his city, but no longer is it his home. 

When he realises this, Ulric Black decides that his time in the human world has come to an end. 

Ulric Black is two hundred years old when he travels to the furthest south there is to the Valley of Demons, where his father’s kind live. 

Leaving behind his humanity and his past and the life he lived, Ulric Black takes his place among the bloody, burning creatures of the night.