The Demon King’s Message

The academy lay in ruins. Smoke curled into the sky, carrying the scent of blood and burning wood. The once-proud fortress of hunters had become a battlefield littered with the bodies of both demons and warriors.

Nero stood among the wreckage, panting heavily. His body ached from battle, wounds still fresh from his brutal fight with Azgrel, the Demon King’s Fifth Disciple.

The others were just as exhausted. Kain leaned against a broken pillar, his breathing ragged. Lena clutched her bleeding shoulder, her daggers slick with demon blood. Ezren wiped blood from his mouth, his eyes still wide with the shock of what they had just survived.

“That… that wasn’t just any disciple,” Ezren muttered. “He was different. Smarter. Stronger.”

Nero clenched his fists. “That was Azgrel… The Crimson Strategist.” He looked to the sky, where dark clouds churned as if the world itself was reacting to what had just happened. His voice was steady, but the weight of his words was undeniable. “And we’ve just declared war.”

The words settled heavily between them. They had won, but at what cost? Dozens of hunters lay dead. The academy walls were crumbling. And worst of all, the battle wasn’t over.

A sudden tremor shook the ground beneath them. The remaining hunters snapped to attention, weapons raised.

Then, the sky itself tore open.

A massive, swirling black portal appeared above them, crackling with dark energy. Shadows spilled out like living smoke, coiling and twisting in the air before solidifying into a towering figure clad in black and gold demonic armor.

His horns spiraled high above his head, his crimson eyes burning with cruel amusement. A dark, jagged crown rested atop his brow, marking him as the one who ruled over all demons.

Everyone froze. A suffocating, unbearable pressure crushed down on them, making it nearly impossible to breathe.

Ezren gasped. “The Demon King…?”

The dark ruler’s piercing gaze swept across the battlefield, taking in the destruction, the fallen, and the blood-soaked warriors standing before him. His eyes settled on Nero.

“You wear my curse well, boy.” His voice rumbled like distant thunder, smooth yet laced with contempt.

Nero’s jaw tightened. “What do you want?”

The Demon King chuckled, the sound sending an involuntary chill down the spines of everyone present. “I come bearing a message…” His smirk widened. “You’ve tasted the strength of my fifth. Next, you’ll face my third disciple.”

A flicker of dark energy crackled around him as he raised a single hand.

From the heavens, a black sphere plummeted to the earth, crashing into the ruined academy grounds with an earth-shattering impact. Dust and debris exploded outward, forcing everyone to shield their eyes.

When the dust settled, a massive crater stood in the middle of the battlefield. And within it, a figure slowly rose.

Clad in dark crimson armor, covered in jagged spikes and glowing demonic runes, stood a monstrous being wielding an executioner’s axe nearly twice the size of a man. His glowing yellow eyes locked onto Nero and his team.

The Demon King’s voice echoed through the air.

“Meet my Third Disciple—Drazok, the Executioner.”

Drazok’s deep, gravelly voice rumbled like a beast barely contained. “I look forward to tearing you apart.”

Kain tightened his grip on his sword. “We’ll kill every last one of your disciples!”

The Demon King only laughed. “Brave words… but your death is certain.”

With that, his form flickered and vanished, his laughter lingering in the air like a curse.

Drazok wasted no time. With a single, brutal motion, he swung his massive axe—

BOOM!

The earth split apart beneath its sheer force. Nero and the others barely managed to dodge as the ground where they had stood was reduced to rubble.

Ezren’s blood ran cold. “Shit… we’re not ready for this.”

Nero’s eyes burned crimson. His fingers curled into fists as his blood aura surged.

“Then we’ll get ready. Fast.”