Author's Note: From this point forward, we are not in the perspective of the Demon King unless stated otherwise.
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I stood up from the table, my legs aching from sitting for far too long. I had been studying for the entrance exams to Valgraroth Academy and lost track of time. The suns were setting rapidly, casting a warm orange glow through the window, and the ceremony would begin soon.
I had to get ready quickly or risk missing it, and I could already imagine the elders scolding me for it. My stomach churned with a mix of excitement and anxiety.
Today wasn’t just another day; it was a celebration for my twin brother and me. Despite being twins, we looked nothing alike, which led to our fair share of teasing. Talon's hot-headedness swiftly silenced those who dared to mock us. We were recognized by the village as prodigies destined to be as influential as the great Demon King, Valen.
I dashed out of the house, my heart racing as I sprinted toward the Great Tree in the town square. Familiar faces blurred past me, their knowing smirks igniting a flicker of irritation within. I knew the reason for their looks, and it was a touchy subject for both my brother and me. Today’s ceremony would not only mark our achievements but also highlight our differences.
As I reached the bustling town square, the sweet scent of cinnamon wafted through the air, mingling with the vibrant energy of the crowd. I felt a moment of nostalgia as I watched children run and play beneath the glowing lanterns. It reminded me of simpler times when our biggest worry was getting caught in a game of tag.
Finally, I arrived at the backstage area, breathless and frazzled. The staff quickly rushed me inside to prepare. “You made it just in time!” one of them said, adjusting my robes.
Out on stage, the mayor spoke, his voice booming over the gathering crowd. He gave his usual speech about unity, strength, and the promise of a brighter future. I stood in line, fidgeting as he called out names, the energy of the crowd amplifying my nerves.
After a few minutes, he finally called for Talon and me. “I would like to thank you both and wish you luck in your future endeavors. I guarantee we will hear about both of you in the papers!”
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I stepped forward, shaking his hand firmly, feeling the weight of expectation settle on my shoulders. Accepting my brand-new patch—a symbol of our citizenship and our new journey—I glanced at Talon, who wore a confident grin.
As I stepped off the stage, my brother followed closely behind. “So, what are you going to do now?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
I shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Probably try to get into Valgraroth Academy, study ancient magic or something like that.”
He turned back, his grin widening. “Nerd.” With that, he walked away, likely heading home.
Taking my time on the way back, I let the excitement of the day sink in, but my thoughts drifted to my father. When I entered the house, the comforting aroma of dinner greeted me, yet I felt a familiar weight on my heart. The sound of soft snoring drew me to the living room, where I found my dad asleep on the couch. He hadn’t slept in his own bed since Mom died, and the sight stirred a mixture of sadness and helplessness within me. I didn’t know how to help him, or if I could.
Grabbing my plate, I retreated to my room, wanting to study while I ate. The walls were lined with books on magic, their spines cracked from use. I settled at my desk, the soft light from my lamp casting a warm glow as I dug into my meal. But as the sun dipped below the horizon, fatigue washed over me, pulling my eyelids heavy.
After washing my plate and changing into comfortable clothes, I turned off the light and slipped into bed, letting the day’s events lull me into a peaceful sleep.
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Demon King’s POV
I was trapped in a never-ending loop of my past, reliving every failure that had been buried beneath my triumphs. Each memory tormented me, reminding me of all that I had lost.
Once again, I found myself beside my pregnant wife, her golden-blond hair spilling over the pillows, a vision of tranquility shattered by a scream echoing through our home. I rushed to the window, horror gripping me as I saw flames consuming the village.
In a jarring shift, the scene changed. I held her in my arms, blood pooling beneath us. Her core had been pierced, and all my power was useless against the inevitability of death. I clung to her, whispering words of love and promises I could no longer keep as dawn broke, and the guards finally vanquished the human invaders.
The memory came to an abrupt halt, relief flooding through me—only to be shattered as reality itself splintered apart. I found myself facing a figure that looked hauntingly familiar. My heart raced as I lifted my arms, mirroring theirs.
“Who are you?” I demanded, my voice echoing in the void.
“I am you,” the figure replied, a smile gracing his lips.
Then another appeared, drenched in blood, followed by countless more—each reflecting a different aspect of my existence, each showing me what I could have been if I had chosen differently.
I was forced to confront the myriad versions of myself, a relentless parade of choices that haunted me. Each one whispered the unfulfilled potential that lingered in the shadows of my heart, a cruel reminder of the path I had taken.