(Allen's POV)

My breath caught.

No… this wasn't real.

But the blood—her blood—painted the cold stone in a way that could never be undone. It clung to my claws, staining deeper than skin. I couldn't look away. I couldn't blink.

My claw—crafted from my own essence, sharpened for a thousand battles—trembled in front of my eyes.

This claw was never meant to harm them.

It was hers.

She lay crumpled at my feet, motionless. Her golden eyes—once so bright—stared up at me, wide and empty. Lips parted. As if still trying to form a question.

A question I would never be able to answer.

Why?

"L-Lord Allen!!"

The shout cut through me, jagged and raw.

Ruvan. The quietest of my four.

He stumbled forward, falling to his knees, his arms wrapping around her limp body as though he could somehow shield her from what had already happened. His voice cracked, filled with a fury I had never heard from him.

"Why?! She was one of us!!"

I opened my mouth. Nothing came out.

What could I say?

What words could cleanse this blood from my hands?

Before I could gather a thought, Shou was already in front of me. Fierce, reckless Shou—always first to step up, always first to pick a fight. But this time, the fight was with me.

"So that's it, huh?!" he growled, his fangs bared. "We waited a thousand years—A THOUSAND—for your return. For your freedom. And now that you're free… you butcher us like animals?"

"That's not—" My throat felt like sand. Every word scraped on the way out. "That's not what I—"

"Not what you meant?" Shou spat, the word laced with venom. "Then what is this, Lord Allen?"

Vel's voice joined, soft but sharp as a blade. His smile—the smile that never faded, no matter how bleak the battle—was gone.

"We trusted you…" he said, eyes glistening. "Was it all a lie?"

"No…" I choked.

But even I couldn't believe it.

My claws curled into fists, the tips slicing into my palms. I welcomed the sting. At least it proved I was still alive.

"I can't stop it…" I whispered, more to myself than to them. "My body—it's not mine anymore."

They stared at me, bewildered. Of course they couldn't understand. They hadn't felt the strings tying themselves around my limbs. They hadn't heard the voice, cold and absolute, seeping into my bones.

I was nothing more than a puppet.

And the puppeteer was merciless.

"I created you," I muttered, voice raw. "From my blood… my flesh… my will. I was supposed to protect you. Not—" I couldn't even finish the sentence. The word kill burned too much.

The blood dripping from my claws was steady now. Rhythmic. A slow funeral drum, marking the countdown to something far worse.

"I gave up everything for you," I continued, staring at the crimson pooling beneath my feet. "My name. My freedom. My future. All I wanted—ALL I WANTED—was to be free."

But this wasn't freedom.

This was a noose.

My vision blurred, the edges of the world trembling.

I had never cried.

Not when I was exiled.

Not when my mother died.

Not even when the gods cursed my name.

But now… I couldn't stop the tears. They came without permission, without pride. Because something inside me had shattered.

Something final.

"I'm bound to a mortal now…" I said, almost laughing. "A child. A human boy who doesn't even know what he's done."

I looked at my hands, soaked in the blood of my own kin.

"Everything I built… is crumbling."

They stood frozen. Not as soldiers. Not as generals.

But as betrayed children.

I wanted to fall to my knees. To beg for forgiveness. But before I could even breathe, the strings pulled tighter.

My claw lifted.

Slow. Relentless.

"No… wait!" Shou saw it. His eyes went wide.

But it was too late.

One slash.

One breath.

He fell.

Vel lunged, arms outstretched, but the second swipe was already in motion. His body spun mid-air, crashing to the floor without a sound.

"LORD ALLEN!!" Ruvan's scream was the last human sound left in this wretched hall.

He didn't attack. He didn't flee. He simply shielded her body with his own.

A useless gesture.

I didn't even want to raise my claw again.

But it moved on its own.

I felt it cleave through him.

Like slicing through paper.

Like slicing through memories.

The chamber fell silent.

Blood splattered across the walls, mingling with ancient stains that no one had bothered to clean.

I stood in the aftermath, drenched in red. My family—my proud, loyal family—lay broken around me. Their dreams, their loyalty, their laughter… all of it silenced by me.

I could hear my heartbeat.

Slow.

Hollow.

Mocking.

And amidst that void of sound, I heard something else.

Breathing.

Soft. Fragile.

Yuuta.

He was still there. Curled up in the corner, unconscious. Completely unaware of the massacre his existence had commanded. He looked… so small. So harmless.

Yet he was the gravity that had dragged me into this pit.

I knelt beside him, my claw hovering above his fragile form. The blood still dripped from my fingertips, each drop a testament to the slaughter.

"…Master," I whispered.

The word tasted vile. Like rusted chains and old sins.

"It's done. Just like you asked."

Of course, there was no reply. He wasn't even awake. He wouldn't even know.

I exhaled, shaky, hoping—praying—that this was the end.

But fate wasn't done with me.

My body seized.

The strings pulled again.

Harder this time.

A voice slithered into my mind.

Colder than before.

"By your own hands, you must kill all demons—to prove your loyalty."

I lowered my head once more, bowing so deeply my horns scraped against the cold stone.

"I swear it, my Master," I murmured into the silence, "I will offer you this world cleansed of demons… as proof of my sincerity." This content is hosted at *.

The words left my lips like iron-bound chains, binding me to the vow I could no longer escape.

But as I bowed, something shifted.

A pulse. Faint. Barely noticeable.

I lifted my gaze.

And that's when I saw it.

Yuuta's shadow—once still and innocent beneath his frail, unconscious body—was moving.

No, breathing.

It rippled unnaturally, spreading across the floor like liquid ink. As if alive. As if hunting. It slithered, coiling towards the five broken bodies of my generals—my family—whose blood was still warm on the stone.

I couldn't believe it.

I couldn't even move.

I watched, helpless, as the shadow reached them… and consumed.

No wind. No sound. Just a suffocating stillness as their souls—beautiful, defiant, loyal—were sucked into the dark. The shadows drank their essence, pulling them into the abyss like a serpent swallowing its prey.

"...Impossible."

The word slipped from my lips, barely a whisper.

This wasn't some cursed necromancer's trick. No demon or lesser God magic could do this. Only one being in existence bore this ability—Zariel Ashgrave, the Royal Guardian of Zareth, the Keeper of the Abyss.

I had seen it once. Long ago.

She doesn't kill you.

She keeps you.

A cursed power that condemned souls into an eternal, waking prison, their existence never allowed to pass on… nor be reborn.

But now—Yuuta… this boy—was using her ability.

"How…?" I whispered, taking a step back, my vision blurring with disbelief. "What are you?"

But amidst my shock, something unexpected stirred in me.

Hope.

It was faint. Fragile. Pathetic.

But it was there.

If Yuuta had taken their souls… then my family wasn't gone.

They weren't erased.

They were trapped.

And trapped souls… can be brought back.

I dropped to my knees again, this time not out of servitude, but gratitude.

"Master…" I whispered, a trembling smile cracking across my face, "if you've inherited her ability… then perhaps… perhaps this curse can become a blessing."

The despair that had hollowed me out minutes ago was now replaced with something dangerous.

Purpose.

If I served him well—if I proved my loyalty, perhaps he would restore them. Perhaps I could see them again. Laugh with them. Fight beside them. As it was meant to be.

I looked at Yuuta's still body, his chest barely rising and falling with shallow breaths.

"Rest, Master. Sleep while you can," I said softly, as if he could hear me beyond the veil of his unconsciousness.

I stood.

The weight of my new vow anchoring me, giving my limbs purpose.

"I will erase every demon on this earth," I declared, my voice cutting through the darkened chamber, "as proof of my devotion to you."

My shadow responded, rising and coiling around my feet like a living weapon. It was no longer mine. It was no longer bound to me.

It was his.

I raised my hand.

"All that I have created…" I whispered, "shall now be undone."

The shadows stretched, slithering beyond the torture chamber's walls. I could feel them spreading, like cracks in the foundation of the demon world. Hunting. Seeking. Every demon who bore my mark… every soldier I forged from blood and ash…

Would now die by the very power that gave them life.

But I wouldn't stop there.

No.

Their bodies would be converted. Repurposed. Not as mere corpses—but as loyal undead, their strength now belonging to Yuuta Konuari.

And the demon…?

The demon who had suffered beneath contract rule would rise, not as victims, but as immortal soldiers, bound to Yuuta's will.

A perfect army.

One not made for conquest.

But for worship.

"From now on," I murmured, my shadow slicing through the fabric of life far beyond these walls, "the world will march beneath you, my Master."

As my shadows devoured my creations, the weight of silence pressed against my ears.

It wasn't grief anymore.

It wasn't sorrow.

It was devotion.

The kind of devotion that could build empires.

Or end them.

Location: Soul Mountain, Libeus – Allen's Private Chamber

(Aaron's POV)

My head... why does it feel like it's splitting apart?

My head felt like it was splitting open from the inside.

Heavy. Hot. Numb.

I could barely keep my eyes open. Darkness pressed in, but not completely—somewhere beyond the haze, a faint golden glow shimmered, casting soft halos against floating dust. The particles drifted lazily, like fireflies trapped in a world that had long since stopped caring.

Stone walls loomed around me. Ancient bookshelves stretched toward the ceiling like silent judges, their spines cracked and forgotten. On wooden tables, glass flasks simmered, their contents bubbling as if whispering secrets to themselves. It felt like stepping into a lost age—alchemy, curses, forbidden Fantasy things.

Not exactly the kind of place you just wake up in.

Where… the hell am I?

I tried to think, but my memories slipped like water through my fingers. My name… Aaron? No, that wasn't right. Or was it? I had a life before this, didn't I? A normal one. College. Exams. Maybe a lecture I had skipped?

A cold sweat rolled down my back.

"Hello?" My voice cracked, brittle, as if it hadn't been used in years. "Is anyone there?"

No answer.

I tried to sit up, but something was holding me down. I looked down—and my breath caught.

Glowing bands—twisting, alive—circled my body in slow, deliberate rotations. They weren't chains. Not iron. Not rope. They pulsed with light—red and gold Magical circle, ancient, angry. Like they didn't just bind my body, but my very soul.

"What… is this?" I whispered.

Then I heard it—

A voice. Twisted. Demonic. Echoing from the shadows like a curse etched into the walls of this forsaken place.

Demonic Voice:

"Slave transfer complete. Your allegiance now belongs to the current master. Memory restoration in progress."

"All shall hail Geta... Hail Geta. Hail Geta!"

And then—

Crack.

The bands shattered.

Glass-like fragments burst into the air, dissolving into shimmering dust before they could touch the ground. For a second, the world was silent.

Then the pain came.

A sharp, searing stab, right through my chest. I gasped, my body contorting as if something inside me was being ripped apart. My knees buckled. My vision blurred.

And then the flood began.

Memories.

But they weren't mine… and yet, they were.

Faces. Screams. Bloodied hands. My hands.

"Stop," I croaked, but the memories kept coming, louder, faster.

I saw myself laughing—claws drenched in blood—burning humans, tearing through innocent lives like they were meaningless. Girls—some of them children—nothing more than playthings to me, I assulat them. I used people, killed for rituals, threatened those who defied me.

I remembered… everything.

"No, no, no…" I grabbed at my hair, pulling hard, as if I could tear the memories out by force. My breathing turned erratic, my throat closing in. "That wasn't me… That can't be me…"

But it was.

Or rather—it was the version of me they had created.

The puppet. The weapon. The fool who thought he had control.

I remembered the contract. The whispers. The way I begged for revenge, for power, for recognition. And in return, he give me hell.

"My God…" I choked out, staring at my trembling hands. "What have I become?"

I staggered to my feet.

I couldn't stay here...No... I have to run. Before that demon comes back and uses me again—I need to get to my parents. I have to!

I stumbled out of the chamber, my mind spinning.

"I can't live like this… I can't…" I muttered, my voice breaking.

But then—

Drip. It was loud enough has someone was calling me.

A small, wet sound echoed.

Blood.

Fresh.

I froze.

Someone else was here.

I followed the trail, heart pounding, each drop leading me deeper into a cave corridor I hadn't noticed before. But this wasn't a hallway. No. As I stepped inside, it felt like the walls were breathing.

The air hit me first.

Rotten. Suffocating.

The stench of blood mixed with decayed flesh, as if the very stones were soaked in it. The floor was slick, sticky beneath my shoes I can't even see properly becasue my eye were not adjusted to less light.

My stomach lurched.

It wasn't just blood.

Skeletons lined the edges—piled atop one another, half-melded into the stone as if they'd been absorbed by the mountain itself. I couldn't tell if they were old or freshly stripped. There were too many to count.

I took a step back.

No, I shouldn't be here. I need to get out. I need to—

But my foot hit something.

Soft.

Warm.

I looked down.

A boy. Barely breathing.

His body was a ruin of torn flesh and dried blood, but I recognized him immediately. His name surfaced, clear as day amidst my chaos.

"Yuuta…" I whispered.

Yuuta Konuari.

I didn't know how I knew him. But I did.

He was losing too much blood.

I dropped to my knees beside him, frantic. His pulse was faint. His chest barely moved.

I looked around, desperate. There was no one. No tools. No medicine to save him.

But I couldn't let him die.

Not after everything.

Not after what I've done.

"Hold on," I whispered, my hands trembling as they hovered over his wounds. "I'll save you. I swear, I'll save you."

But how…?

To be continued.