The date was 458 of the Arventian Calendar. 

It was a hellish era marked by war and carnage. Humanity was engaged in its final conflict with the demon race, seemingly emerging from nowhere to wreak havoc across the continent. Their onslaught nearly annihilated the ancient race of elves, but their alliance with the dwarves managed to drive the demons back to their realm.

Undeterred by this powerful retaliation, the demons changed their focus—turning their attention to humans. What began as a small skirmish gradually escalated into sieges and full-scale wars that lasted for months. Under the command of the 43rd Demon Lord, Zalstrahvi, the demon forces decimated countless lives, destroyed homes, and shattered hopes.

Ten years later, with the support of the holy knights of Luternia, humanity united to confront this evil. They waged war for another decade, but neither side emerged victorious, leaving everything at a standstill—until the hero appeared and united all races against their demon oppressor.

Shouldering the weight of a divine prophecy, the hero marched forth to confront mankind's greatest enemy once again. Leading the holy knights, he achieved countless victories, liberating cities and saving human captives. Slowly but surely, humanity began to push back against the Demon Lord’s army, cornering the Demon King in his throne.

===

Meanwhile in the Demon Lord’s throne room. 

A tall, feathery figure sat on the throne, unmoving as if made of stone. He was dressed in a black coat and white shirt that appeared to be competing with his deadly pale skin color. One of his legs was rested atop the other, the darkness of his pants seamlessly blending with the brooding atmosphere of the throne room.

He was a demon crowned with battle scars, which he proudly wore as badges of might and prowess. His imposing and regal presence was fitting for the last royal of his lineage. Covering much of his majestic form were two pairs of wing-like arms that sprouted from his shoulders and lower back, ending in enormous, monstrous claws.

His black hair was long, braided over his shoulder and reaching to his chest. Atop his head, a pair of horns jutted forward, signifying his demonic nature, although his left horn had been severed due to a war of succession. On the side of his head was another pair of horns curled outward from the sides of his head, wrapping around his long elvish ears as if to protect them.

His black eyes stared vacantly at the double door separating what remained of his empire and the enemies. Even at the impending doom his eyes were expressionless. 

He felt empty.

He wished those humans would come faster.

Then the double doors burst open just as he spoke it inwardly, revealing the hero along with his band of trusted party members.

“Your reign is over, Demon King!!” the hero shouted, brandishing his spear towards him in a heroic pose. “You have trampled on so many innocent lives and I shall be the one to take yours!”

Finally. Finally they came.

The Demon Lord stood slowly, every movement deliberate. In his mind, he felt neither fear nor dread. In fact, there was not a shred of negativity within him. 

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He was happy. 

At last, he was liberated. 

He was liberated from this world. 

He felt lighter than ever. His shoulders felt unburdened and his chest—his chest felt overwhelmed by the sense of liberation that he had never known before. Even breathing felt different, more exhilarating, in this moment.

“…ah, this is it… my salvation,” he murmured and spread his arm as a gesture of welcome, but it was mistaken as hostility from his adversaries. 

The hero and his party charged forward, heroic screams penetrated the throne room as they launched their ultimate attack towards humankind’s greatest enemy. 

“Aaaaaa!!!!!” the hero shouted, thrusting his spear with all his might, aiming for the heart of the Demon Lord. He was determined to end this once and for all, for everyone who had suffered and lost all hope at the hand of this evil incarnate.

Yet all it took was a split second of look to make him hesitant.

The Demon Lord was smiling.

Wha…?

What is going on? Why is he smiling?

Then the split second disappeared and time resumed its normal course. The hero, distracted by the Demon Lord’s expression, experienced a state of disassociation. For several seconds, he had forgotten what he was doing and stared into space as if he was in a trance.

Until the triumphant shouts pierced his ears. 

He woke up from his trance to see the lifeless Demon Lord impaled in his spear.

He was dead?

…just like that?

There was no phase two or even stronger phase, just… 

…just an anticlimactic fight that gave no satisfaction whatsoever.

===

Without the leader, the demon race scattered across the continent. The formidable power that had once defined this proud and ancient lineage faded into obscurity, leaving them as mere shadows of their former selves—uncouth tribes forced to hide in the most secluded corners of the land, their proud heritage a distant memory.

The great war which had raged for two brutal decades was brought to an end by the hero. Of course, the details of the conflict's resolution were hidden from the public. All they could remember was the false songs of fierce battle and bravery sung by the bards.

However, one undeniable truth remained: humanity had emerged victorious against their great adversary.

In this era of freedom, humanity savored the sweetness of liberation—free from the shackles of terror and death. Festivals erupted in every corner of the land. Feasts were made with great care, goblets lifted raised high, and laughter weaved through the air, uniting people in joy and celebration.

Peace had truly arrived with a future filled with hope, warmth, and the promise of new beginnings.

===

600 years later…

Deep within sacred ground beneath the grand temple of the Holy City of Luthernia, the Demon Lord’s corpse was encased inside magical ice. This chamber, accessible only through a passage allowed only to a select few, was established to safeguard his remains from those who might wish to exploit his dark power.

The remains of the Demon Lord radiated an aura, both chilling and mesmerizing, surrounded by thick shadows that seemed to dance in the flickering candlelight. Heavy shackles bound the corpse tightly, a grim reminder of the malevolence that once roamed the earth.

To ward off any attempts at theft or resurrection, a series of complex spells had been carefully woven into the very fabric of the room itself. Ancient runes lined the stone walls, pulsing faintly with protective enchantments that thwarted uninvited guests, especially necromancers who sought to harness the forbidden powers of the deceased for their own evil purposes.

Badump!

In the stillness of the chamber, heartbeats were heard.

Badump, badump, badump.

The Demon Lord opened his eyes.