Chapter 1: Betrayal

The battlefield was a desolate wasteland of smoldering ash and scorched earth. The once-lush valley of Eldor, known for its golden fields and vibrant wildflowers, had been transformed into a graveyard of destruction. Dark clouds swirled ominously overhead, blotting out the sun and casting a blood-red hue over the battlefield. The air was thick with the acrid stench of burnt grass and the metallic tang of blood.

Hentz Liebert, the youngest Sword Master in the history of the Empire, stood amidst the carnage. His once-pristine armor, adorned with the crest of his noble family, was now battered and smeared with soot and blood. His breathing was ragged, and his grip on his longsword, Luminara, was trembling. The blade, a masterpiece of craftsmanship, still shimmered faintly, though cracks spiderwebbed across its once-perfect surface.

The demon king lay before him, a towering figure of malice and raw power. His body was a twisted amalgamation of sinew and shadows, his crimson eyes dimming as dark ichor pooled around him. Hentz had fought countless battles, faced warriors and beasts that most men would flee from, but none had tested him like this.

"Y-you’ve… lost," Hentz muttered, his voice hoarse from exhaustion.

The demon king let out a low, guttural laugh that sent chills down Hentz's spine. "Lost, you say?" His voice was deep, reverberating as if it came from the very bowels of the earth. "You may have bested me, mortal, but victory is… fleeting."

Before Hentz could react, a tendril of shadow erupted from the demon king's chest, piercing through Hentz’s side. Pain lanced through his body like wildfire. He staggered back, gasping, as the demon king's body began to disintegrate into dark mist.

"You… will never be free," the demon king whispered, his form fading into nothingness.

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Hentz collapsed to his knees, clutching his wound. His vision blurred, but through the haze, he heard the familiar sound of armored footsteps approaching. Relief washed over him as he recognized the figures of his party: Eryk, his childhood friend; Lira, the sharp-tongued rogue; Torvald, the stoic knight; and Amara, the saintess who had promised to stand by his side forever.

"You… made it," Hentz murmured, managing a weak smile. "The demon king… he’s gone."

But their faces were not ones of relief or joy. Instead, they were cold, grim, and filled with something Hentz couldn’t quite place—disdain?

"Hentz Liebert," Eryk said, stepping forward. His voice was devoid of the warmth it once held. "By order of the king, you are to be executed for treason against the Empire."

Hentz’s heart stopped. "W-what? Eryk… what are you saying?"

Amara stepped forward, her golden hair catching the dim light, her once-kind eyes now hard and unyielding. "You’ve become too powerful, Hentz. The king… he fears you. We all do."

Hentz’s mind raced, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief. "I… I fought for the Empire. For all of you! Every battle, every scar—it was for you! How can you—"

"You’re a monster now," Lira spat, her voice trembling with something between fear and anger. "The way you fought… it wasn’t human. It’s not right."

Torvald remained silent, his expression unreadable, but his grip on his blade tightened.

Hentz stumbled to his feet, his hand still pressed against his wound. "No… no, this can’t be happening. Eryk, Amara, we grew up together! I trusted you! I… I…" His voice cracked, tears welling in his eyes.

Eryk’s gaze faltered for a moment, but he quickly steeled himself. "I’m sorry, Hentz."

Before Hentz could react, Eryk’s sword plunged into his chest. The cold steel pierced through his heart, and a wave of pain unlike anything he’d ever known coursed through him.

Hentz gasped, his vision darkening. His knees buckled, and he fell to the ground. His sword slipped from his grasp, clattering lifelessly to the dirt.

He looked up at them, his so-called friends, his voice barely a whisper. "I… I did everything… for you. For the Empire. And this… this is how you repay me?"

Amara’s lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. But she said nothing.

Hentz let out a bitter laugh, blood bubbling from his lips. "I thought… I thought we were family. I thought… I mattered."

His gaze turned to the heavens, the swirling clouds above. "If there are gods… if you’re watching… then know this: I regret nothing. I fought for what I believed in. And if this… if this is the end… then so be it."

As the world around him faded to black, Hentz felt a strange sense of peace. He had given everything—his life, his soul—for a cause he believed in. And though his heart was shattered by their betrayal, he held onto one last thought.

"I will be remembered," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Even if you forget… the gods will not."

And with that, the light in Hentz Liebert’

s eyes dimmed, leaving the battlefield eerily silent.