­­It was wholly and utterly underwhelming. To say that Alex had been bloodthirsty enough to have wanted to battle such a foe as the Demon Lord might be stretching it a bit, but remembering the scene of walking rigidly side-by-side with his three other comrades into the throne room, sweating and adrenaline still rushing from training, only to be told “we don’t need you anymore, sorry,” left him unsatisfied, for lack of a better word.

The throne room was a sterile atmosphere, its blue and white marble color scheme almost too much to the eyes. A tall and thin throne sat at the far end of a long stretch of a thick blue and silver embellished carpet. Tall windows lined either side, with small benches topped with blue velvet cushions seated beneath every other one. The king that sat atop the throne was perfectly complemented by the room. He wore swaths of blue velvet and had a bored expression. Only a slight twitch of his eyes ever denoted emotion. The king was flanked by two young guards and his weedy advisor who always seemed to be whispering.

“You may step up to the throne, young heroes.”

The king gestured grandly and the four that had gathered only midway through the entrance took their cue to hurry. Quick strides found them before the throne. Alex looked to his side and noticed each looked nervous besides Amelie, who Alex was hard pressed to remember if he had actually ever seen her look nervous. She stood tall and proud, her tied back dirty blonde hair swaying a bit and her dark brown eyes focusing directly before her. Olivia was the complete opposite: shaking like a leaf and seemingly trying to reach for Amelie’s hand. She was much shorter than Amelie, who was the tallest in the group, and Alex could barely see her brown bob and bright green eyes. Lastly, Wes was staring straight ahead, but without actually focusing. Alex could tell. The young man’s hazy grey eyes seemed to simultaneously be looking at everything and nothing. A nervous habit. Alex wanted to comfort him, but he was on the complete opposite side to Wes and could only make a positive attempt to hope as hard as he could, wishing he could somehow project his feelings over.

The king studied them, which Alex hated. He felt less like a human and more like something to be used. The king coughed, “I am afraid I have both good and bad news.” He spoke slowly, like he was weighing his words, as he shifted his gaze between each of Alex’s companions.

Alex shifted nervously, and noticed his companions did the same. The young man almost brought his nails up to bite them, a horrible nervous tic, but managed to stop it in time.

“Sir,” Wes said, breaking the silence Alex had barely noticed was eating him alive. Why was he so nervous? They were the summoned heroes, these people’s supposed only hope, and yet he felt like any moment could upend everything he knew. Wes began again, “What is the bad news, then?”

“Yes, I was getting right to that,” the king continued, seemingly slightly annoyed Wes would dare interrupt his purposeful seemingly ten-minute-long silence, “You see, it is one piece of information that is ah… simultaneously both good and bad.” He talked to Alex and his companions like children.

“My advisor and I have discussed the situation and have decided to send you all back to your home world,” the king told them all, finally settling down in his throne, letting his eyes appraise everyone’s reactions. Alex and the others started looking back and forth between one another, anxiety increasing. They were going home? Now? But it was unfinished. They were supposed to defeat the Demon Lord!

The advisor to the King’s side coughed loudly. The cough was laughably fake and loud, and Alex had to restrain himself from chuckling.

“You see, we have recently received word from the Western garrison that the Demon Lord is well… dead,” the advisor’s wheezy voice echoed through the hall, “It seems he was killed in a coup by his own people. Which leads us to why we no longer require your help.”

The king shifted back forward on his seat and continued the topic, “Heroes are meant for two jobs: inciting hope, which you have done admirably, and killing the Demon Lord, the most powerful and threatening being in this world.” The king’s thin frame began leaning up from his seat, his veiny hands clutching onto the wood, “Now that both jobs are finished, albeit one unexpectedly, you are no longer needed. Our next step is to, as my advisor and I have agreed, invade the demon country and take over its resources.”

The king turned his icy blue eyes on the four people before him as he began waving his hand back and forth disdainfully, “We cannot have you heroes trouncing around the place, utilizing your extremely powerful and dangerous abilities, on land that we know we can win now.”

Alex then forcefully cut off his reminiscing, blinking his eyes once or twice before looking back around him and at the empty glass clutched in his left hand. The king had thrown a large ball to celebrate the death of the Demon Lord and had even invited the four heroes despite it all. The other three were disappointed, especially Amelie, who was somewhat of a brawler. Alex sighed and looked out from the marble balcony he was leaning from into the lush white ballroom. The glowing magic lights gave it an ethereal feel, alongside the constant stream of chatter mixed with string instruments. Young women danced in elegant and frilly gowns and men in their expensive formal wear to the beat. As Alex let his mind become lost in the throng, he suddenly felt a tap on his shoulder and jolted.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Ah! Ames, oh my God, you scared me.” Alex stared at the offender, Amelie, and realized how out of it he must have been to not notice her of all people walk up to him. She was a great fighter, but a sneak she was not.

 Amelie smirked, “I bet you only didn’t notice me because you were too busy staring at Wes, huh? He’s the true belle of the ball tonight, honestly. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of his dance partners come together to petition the king to let him stay.” Amelie turned to the crowd, gesturing toward where Wes was dancing with a different girl than he had been last time Alex had looked.

“No I am not staring at Wes, Ames.”

“Are too.”

“Are not.”

“Are too.”

“Are not.”

“Are. Too.”

Sigh.

“That means I win, you know.”

“Yes, you win, Amelie, oh great one who has probably been staring at Olivia all night.”

Amelie blushed then turned away, pouting, however, she quickly recovered, but her face had taken on a sadder expression than before, “So...,” Amelie began. She was talking slowly, as if she were testing out the words as she said them, “Do you think either of us will… you know? Tell them. Before we all have to go back tomorrow?”

Alex sighed. He. He had been thinking about it, but he honestly wasn’t sure. Would saying it even do anything? He sighed again and Amelie began to laugh.

“So that’s where we’re at, huh?” She looked back to the ballroom, directly to Olivia, who was politely but stiffly talking with a young man clearly asking her for a dance. Suddenly, Wes swooped in and brought Oliva out on to the dance floor, and the pair began smoothly gliding across it.

Amelie stood back up from leaning on the balcony and began taking strides toward the door. She turned back solemnly and saluted Alex, causing Alex to laugh, and then she left him alone to his thoughts.

They had spent so long training for the final fight and all it amounted to was this unsatisfying conclusion. Nothing felt real and Alex was struggling to keep his head in all of this. In a few days, so little time, the mages would send them back home. This entire situation left a bad taste in his mouth. The humans were going to take over the demons’ land just after they had a coup. They were taking advantage of this entire unrest. It felt wrong. Completely wrong. Alex frowned as he turned back to look at the dance floor. Wes was dancing with someone else, his eyes glittering, but Alex was happily surprised to find Amelie and Olivia dancing together, both blushing, causing him to snicker.

“Perhaps I could make my own happy ending…?” Alex let himself smile at the notion. No he still wanted to be a coward, let him have that. Alex looked down to his feet, about to scuff his boot a little, but he noticed something odd. A small glowing circle was beginning to encircle him.

This… This was familiar. It looked eerily similar to the ones they all had been summoned with. Alex squinted and began to crouch down.

“What…”

It was definitely similar, but something was off. The writing seemed different from what he had seen of thie human country’s. Alex looked up and down, up and down, concerned. He didn’t know what to do. He remembered, when he was first being summoned, that he was unable to move his feet outside of the circle while it was glowing around him, and sure enough, it was the same with this one. He began to panic. How was he being summoned again? And by who?

Alex looked up and began to call out, “He-“ before the circle finally finished being etched and worked its magic, bringing him out of the party and in to new surroundings, “-y…”

Alex blinked and realized his hand was still raised and then lowered it. He slowly got up from his crouch, joints creaking, as he looked around. He was in some sort of half ruined building. It was made of heavy bricked grey stone and the current room he was in was easily twice the size of the human king’s throne room. There were great gothic-esque windows at the wider end of the room, with some of the glass panes completely blown out, flanking a large dark stone throne in the middle which featured three steps leading up to it. The throne was missing half of the winged carving at its apex. The ceilings were high and vaulted with intricate gargoyle and demon-like carvings. Tapestries were hung on the walls over pointed archways, but some of them were lopsided. The rug in the middle of the room was in tatters and clearly not at all facing the direction it should be. There was rubble everywhere and even, Alex was horrified to notice, armored dead bodies. As he finally turned a circle to see the other side, he found two people, or should he say demons, considering their appearances, standing before him. They both had horns, although the boy’s on the left were very small and their eyes had a slight glow to them.

The boy, who was shorter and seemed to be about Alex’s age in appearance, stepped forward, his foot leaving a far too loud thud. The boy seemed to wince a little at this.

“H-Hello.” The young demon said, his bright violet eyes shining defiantly. Or was he trying to be confident? Alex couldn’t tell.

The demon shook his head over something, his wavy ivory hair jumping to and fro, then continued, “We have summoned you in our time of need, o great warrior,” he seemed to have memorized some sort of speech before this all. The demon woman behind the young man was watching him with a blank expression and nodding. Was that a thumbs up? Seriously her blank face was unnerving compared to her gestures. The demon boy continued, “According to the Book of Summoning, if we used this circle,” the boy gestured down to Alex’s feet, “A champion would be given to us who could save us when darkness encroached upon our lands...”

The boy trailed off, looking down at his feet. He seemed to notice Alex was unimpressed, only really half listening, and Alex began to feel bad. The boy clenched his fists and his expression became stern as he suddenly brought his eyes back up to Alex’s, causing Alex to jolt a bit in surprise.

“I managed to… K-kill my father for the sake of our country,” the boy continued, his resolve strengthening as the woman behind him began patting him on the shoulder, again with a completely blank expression, “But according to law, that means I must become the next ruler and… I don’t want to.”

I blinked.

“And that’s why I need you here. Please… become the next Demon Lord.”