Dravok and Gerad teleported in a blur of black flash, reappearing within the throne hall of the demon castle.
The air was thick and suffocating with the presence of highly ranked demons, like a chamber sealed beneath molten stone. Darkness shrouded the hall, with only fractured light slipping through narrow windows carved high in the walls.
The hall mirrored the architecture of a Catholic cathedral—vast, towering, and ominous. Massive obsidian doors loomed behind Dravok, while the walls bore layered etchings, ancient carvings of long-forgotten wars and demonic creeds.
At the forefront stood the throne: vast, regal, cast from black stone laced with crimson veins. Seated upon it was a cloaked figure, draped from head to toe—Dravos Valkarion. Demon King of daelgrin by faith.
Flanking the throne were six elevated seats, three to each side. Upon them sat the high-ranking demons, Six Pillars of the Demon King. All wore black cloaks, though their faces remained unveiled—each bearing the weight of centuries, eyes carrying time old hatred.
They were once seven. But one had fallen—Zoro Anzem, struck down by Dravok.
To the right of the throne:
Garad Azrema, First Elder Demon.
Dagon Meridax, Second Elder demon and in old times the closest Elder to Dravok, the fury beneath his eyes looked more acted then felt.
Baalor Kynareth, Third elder demon.
To the left:
Lucian Alhazred, Fourth.
Thamuz Drakenveil, Fifth.
Azazal Blackthorn, Sixth.
"Welcome, fallen king," Dravos purred, his cloaked arm resting against the amored helmet that covered his face.
Dravok's gaze swept across the hall once more. "See what you've turned my castle into..."
"It's no longer yours, Dravok!" The fourth elder barked.
Dravok scoffed. "I'm not here to argue over vague matters. What do you want, Dravos?"
"Just needed to pass along useful information or rather, advice," Dravos replied smoothly.
Dravok stared into the faces of the gathered Pillars. Their eyes burned with fury—not just for the years of indifference in mindsets, but for the death of their brother.
"Speak," his voice lanced with authority.
Dravos rose, arms behind his back as he paced around Dravok, who stood alone in the center of the room.
"Let's start slow and simple," he said, removing the black knight helmet that shielded his identity.
Dravok's eyes widened. What he saw shattered reason.
The face revealed was not just one—but two souls merged. It was the reincarnation of Ely the Spirit King and Adam the Human King, fused into one hallow-eyed body. Demonic horns spiraled from his skull.
"How did you both reincarnate in one vessel?" Dravok sneered, shaken to the core.
"No," Dravos grinned darkly. "I am not their return. I am the rebirth of their grudges."
"How... is that even possible?" Dravok staggered back. It wasn't a threat to him but the kindom his loves.
"When the Dark Eclipse shattered a thousand years ago—because of your so-called sacrifice—I was exiled, along with Venuzdona."
Dravok's eyes sharpened. The blade—Venuzdona. His own weapon that could rewrite destiny itself.
"What did you do with it?" he demanded.
"Oh, nothing much," Dravos said with chilling calm. "I rewrote myself as the Demon King. I rewrote my fate to kill the Demon King. So you see, Dravok..." He extended a single hand. "Your life is mine to end."
That explains it. Why no one remembers me as king—except those bound to me by blood or soul.
Dravok looked at his long twisted horns,
He even reincarnated... as a demon.
"What is your plan, Dravos?"
"What you failed to accomplish!" Dravos' voice rang through the chamber loud and clear. "I will replay the war, and this time—all clans will perish. Earth will be the kingdom of my master."
Dravok flinched at the word. Master.
"What makes you think you'll succeed?"
"Perhaps you've forgotten. You may defy time and light, but not destiny. So take my advice—stay out of my way, or die sooner than fated."
Silence fell.
Dravok's long-buried murderous mana surged outward. His eyes burned like twin abysses. In a blink, he lunged—barehanded, fury incarnate.
But the elders moved first, although the second elder hesitated but he joined the parade. They launched at him like iron hooks targeted towards a pery, rage burning beneath their skin.
"Fool!" they thundered in unison.
Dravok halted mid-strike, restraining his wrath. Now isn't the time. I'm outmatched—in strength and in numbers.
In a flash of black mana, he vanished, the wind screaming in his wake. Retreating but not backing off.
"Should we pursue him, my lord?" Garad growled.
Dravos waved a hand. "Let him be. He's good as dead."
Dravos turned to Gerad.
"Prepare for war. Three days from now, we march."
"Yes, my lord."
He then addressed Dagon Meridax, second elder demon. "Tell Instructor Ravien to take the demon academy students on a little field trip. No interruptions are needed during preparation."
He turned to the rest of the elders.
"Open the portal to the Underworld. I have a meeting with my master. I'll follow shortly."
They bowed and dispersed, leaving Dravos alone.
He turned to the throne, his eyes glinting with dark triumph.
"I will rewrite your wrongs, Dravok, that's the will of my master" he whispered.
Outside the castle,
Dravok stood atop jagged blackstone, breath ragged, eyes blazing. Mana surged from his skin like smoke from a raging forge.
The Demon Castle towered behind him, a cathedral of shadow rising to kiss the heavens. Its spires pierced the sky, and the air hummed with silent, ancient energy. Even the clouds above had curdled into darkness.
"I let all this happen… right beneath my nose," he growled, breath ragged, fury escaping his skin.
Even if I warn the humans or spirits—they won't believe me.
His hands gripped his face, teeth clenched in silent despair.
"Still... there's no harm in trying. If that's the least I can do." He whispered.
Memories of the last war played like a sorrowful movie in his head—how mothers screamed for lost children, how children mourned fallen parents. And how he himself… mourned Elara.
"Mum… Dad… Elara… Daelgrin…" he murmured, each name a spark to the fire in his soul.
"No more losses. Not again. I am a leader. I know my duty."
He raised his head with hope, found not just by determination, but also with love.
Mana surged outward from his body. The ground beneath him cracked, collapsing in a circular crater three feet deep.
"Dravos Valkarion... you have awakened a sleeping lion."