Two thousand years ago, the great war between humans and demons came to an end. The reigning Demon Lord, Luciferous, forged a contract with the human kingdom of Aelfhim as a symbol of their peace.

 The war, which once ravaged the land, ultimately birthed a favorable relationship between the humans and demons, elevating humanity's status. However, after two millennia, the line of kings on both sides had changed countless times, and the once-strong alliance between the two races faded into memory.

 Now, the humans are embroiled in a desperate battle against the fallen angels, who seek nothing less than the complete annihilation of humanity. The fate of the human race rests in the hands of its greatest warriors, led by the current princess of Aelfhim.

 "Princess, this is bad!" one of the captains cried, his voice shaking with urgency. "The ruler of the fallen angels has made her appearance! We're barely holding our ground against their lower-ranking forces, but now... now the greatest warrior of their entire race is here!"

 The cries of battle filled the air as Leviathan, the queen of the fallen angels, unleashed thunder upon the remaining human forces. "Is this how it ends? After so long, extinction will come at the hands of the fallen angels?" The princess's voice trembled with pain. "Why? Why were we the ones to remain at the bottom? Why?!"

 She stared at the ring on her hand, her heart heavy with the weight of her thoughts.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

 "If only what Grandpa said was true… but no matter the crisis we faced, humanity never received help from the demons. Yet this damn ring was made our royal treasure! If only it was real!" The princess's face was grim as she watched the imposing figure of Leviathan approach her. Her dark wings radiated a divine elegance mixed with a trace of dread, an aura both celestial and devilish.

 With a mocking smile, Leviathan flew gracefully toward the princess. "Humans, you've enjoyed the mercy of us supreme beings for far too long," her voice rang out coldly. "You don't even deserve to be called one of the Five Great Races. You are the weakest of the weak. With inferior magic and frail bodies, you've clung to life by enduring hardships. Allow me to free you from your suffering."

 The princess's heart sank as she stared up at the sky, filled with massive thunderbolts that were about to descend upon them. "Help me, please!" Her voice cracked as the weight of death pressed down on her, a feeling of doom suffocating her very being.

 But in that final moment, when all seemed lost, a silhouette appeared before her. The lightning collided with the figure, causing a massive explosion that enveloped the entire battlefield in a thick cloud of smoke.

 "Where am I?" A voice emerged from within the smoke. Slowly, the figure of a man emerged, his body clad only in a towel tied around his waist. He had long, silky black hair and a muscular build that could captivate anyone. His crimson eyes burned with immense power, reflecting the very essence of reality itself.

 He surveyed his surroundings, confusion etching his features. "How is this possible?" he muttered, still processing the strange turn of events. "Is there any human left who could summon a being like me?" He knew the humans were weak, but here he was, summoned into a battle as one of the strongest beings in the world.

 "Who summoned me here?" he asked, his gaze locking onto the princess. He had sensed a faint trace of demonic magic emanating from her.

 "It really worked!" the princess whispered to herself in disbelief, before regaining her composure. "I am the crowned princess of Aelfhim. I summoned you to ask for your aid in battle!"

 The figure chuckled darkly. "You dare? How laughable. I'll destroy you instead!" His eyes flickered with dangerous intent. The being she had summoned was none other than Luseraph Morningstar, the 13th ruler of Hell—known as the greatest prodigy of demons. At the age of seven, he possessed power rivaling the Demon King, whom he later killed when he was only twelve.

 The princess, taken aback by his response, quickly explained that the contract was made with the demons 2,000 years ago, after the great war between humans and demons.

 "Do you think I was born 2,000 years ago?" Luseraph sneered. "That's no longer my concern. It was probably my grandfather you made the deal with." He paused, his gaze narrowing. "But if you truly want my help, offer yourself up to me!"