In a small village where dim torches cast faint light over the settlement,
The buildings were old and fragile, their age evident in their every creak. Inside a particular house, under the weak glow of a candle, sat an old man in tattered clothes. He huddled close to a small stove, tending to it carefully.
As he threw another piece of wood into the fire, a soft voice called out from a corner of the room.
“Grandfather…”
Hearing his granddaughter's voice, the old man paused to check the bubbling soup on the stove before turning toward her.
In the corner of the dim room, on a modest bed, lay a girl who seemed about 15 or 16 years old. She was wrapped tightly in blankets, her delicate, silvery hair splayed around her frail face. Her appearance was pale and worn, a clear testament to her weakness.
The old man approached her and sat on a wooden stool beside the bed. Gently, he took her hand in his own, his weathered eyes betraying a glimmer of sorrow and despair. Yet, suppressing his emotions, he offered her a warm, reassuring smile.
“I’m here, my dear. You need to rest and save your strength,” he said softly.
“But, Grandfather… I’m scared…”
The frail voice of the girl made the old man clench his teeth, forcing himself to suppress the wave of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. He couldn’t let her see his fear.
“G-Grandfather is here. I won’t leave you, my sweet girl. Do you want me to tell you a story?”
The old man’s sudden suggestion seemed to brighten her spirits. As soon as she heard the word "story," her deep crimson eyes lit up, a faint spark of life returning to them.
“Yes! Please, Grandfather!” she exclaimed, but her excitement quickly led to a fit of coughing.
“Shh, calm down,” the old man soothed her, patting her back gently. Once she settled, he began in a slow, deliberate tone.
“Once, my dear, my father told me a story—passed down from his father, and from his father before him. It is the tale of a boy who discovered a sacred sword.
“Long ago, before our kingdom and others were established, humans lived together in a vast empire, coexisting in harmony with other races. In those times, prosperity was shared by all: humans, elves, dwarves, and others alike.
“But one day, a demon appeared…”
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At the mention of the demon, the girl flinched, instinctively curling further into her blankets. The old man noticed her fear and quickly offered a comforting smile.
“Don’t be scared, my dear. Demons are just legends, nothing more.”
His words seemed to calm her, and once she relaxed, he continued.
“When the demons came, the once-thriving world fell into chaos. But among the despair, a boy rose—a simple human, just like us.”
The old man watched as his granddaughter’s expression grew curious, her fear momentarily replaced by fascination.
“This boy found the sacred sword and stood against the demons. He became strong, so strong that he was able to challenge even the Demon King himself.”
“How strong, Grandfather?” the girl asked with wide eyes.
The old man chuckled softly, attempting to explain, though it was clear his words fell short of her imagination. He resumed the story.
“Eventually, the boy defeated the Demon King and drove his sword into a stone, leaving behind a legacy. But before he vanished, he spoke words that would echo through the ages…”
“What words, Grandfather? What did he say?”
Her excitement grew, but before the old man could answer, a loud bang echoed through the air, shaking the fragile house.
Startled, the old man shot to his feet and glanced out the window. More sounds followed—booming crashes accompanied by tremors that made the ground shudder.
Peering through the window, the old man’s eyes widened in terror. His hands and legs trembled as he turned toward his granddaughter. Without hesitation, he scooped her up, blankets and all, cradling her frail body against his chest.
“Grandfather! What’s happening?!” the girl cried, her voice filled with confusion and fear.
The old man didn’t answer. Moving swiftly, he approached a nearby table, shoving it aside to reveal a small hidden hatch in the floor. Gritting his teeth, he lifted the stone slab covering it, revealing a narrow space beneath.
With care, he descended the creaking ladder into the pitch-black chamber below. The girl clung tightly to him, her cries growing louder as the darkness enveloped them.
“I’m sorry, my sweet girl… Forgive me…” the old man whispered. With trembling hands, he gently struck her neck, causing her to fall unconscious.
Laying her down carefully, he climbed back up, determined to gather supplies. As he moved hastily around the room, the sounds of chaos outside grew louder—screams mixed with the dreadful tremors of the earth.
The village, once quiet, was now consumed by terror.
The old man worked quickly, stuffing water and food into a basket. But just as he finished, the tremors grew deafening, and the window shattered violently. Something crashed into the house—a lifeless body.
The old man froze, recognizing the face of his neighbor.
“No…” he breathed, fear gripping his heart. Acting on instinct, he threw the basket into the hidden space and sealed the hatch.
Moments later, the fragile walls of the house collapsed, and a monstrous figure loomed in the gaping hole.
Its skin was dark crimson, its massive, grotesque body humanoid in form but crawling on all fours. Its glowing yellow eyes fixated hungrily on the old man.
“D… Demon…” the old man stammered, his voice trembling. His thoughts raced to the story he had just told.
“The boy said… he said…”
The demon crept closer, baring its sharp teeth, its gaze never wavering from its prey.
“Only… an unfair power… can defeat the abyss…”
As the old man whispered these final words, time seemed to freeze.
Far away, in a small nobleman’s estate, a young man lying unconscious before a darkened fireplace suddenly opened his eyes.
In those eyes burned an infinite, untamed energy…