The Fallen Demon King's Revenge: Prologue of Loss and Obsession - Chapter 1

Before dawn, the wasteland stretched endentless. The sky hung the color of lead, and gray extended in every direction without mercy. In this dimension known as Gehenna Wasteland—a place where neither humans nor demons could ordinarily survive—there existed a thin vein of marrow-force, that vital energy that seeped in minute quantities through the dimensional rift. It was enough to sustain a fragile existence at the edge of worlds. Even the sun here had surrendered its original brilliance. At the tower's highest floor, Vertias stood upon a height without railings. Dark purple hair swayed in the wind. White streaks ran through it in countless threads—a coloring that no mere age could measure. His eyes, deep crimson, were cold and sharp as a blade stained with blood. His skin was pale, yet from neck to arm ran countless burn scars. Across his left shoulder and back lay particularly deep wounds. When touched, they radiated a faint chill, and at times they pulsed with a tremor all their own. The marks of a shattered core—the crystallized magic that had once dwelt within his body. Ten years ago, the holy sword of the hero Ardant had shattered it, leaving only these traces. A dark navy long coat. Beneath it, a black, form-fitting combat suit. A faded demon clan insignia was woven into the cape that flowed in the wind. At his waist hung a short blade. Upon his fingers, a silver ring—carved in the shape of a fragment from his broken core—glimmered faintly. "...I will kill that man." The whisper dissolved into the wind. His voice held no emotion. Yet the obsession woven into those words was so profound it seemed to freeze even the wasteland's air itself. The memory of ten years past returned. The great war of ten years ago. The demons and their king—those led by Vertias—destroyed by the human kingdom of Ludisea. The demon capital burning. The white tower engulfed in flame. The death cries of his subordinates. The screams of the demon queen. And that triumphant smile. Tall, golden-haired, blue-eyed—the human hero Ardant. That man's smile was burned into his mind. "You've worked hard, Demon King." The old wound on his left shoulder throbbed. That man's holy sword had shattered the core dwelling within Vertias's body, stealing everything. The kingdom. The territories. His subordinates. Even his right to stand before others. The sensation of being pushed. Tumbling through the dimensional rift. Darkness, cold, falling endlessly. And then, arriving here. Gehenna Wasteland. To this ruined tower, Babel. Vertias gazed down upon the tower. A cylinder roughly thirty meters in diameter. Nearly one hundred twenty meters in height. Constructed of dark crystal stone resembling obsidian. Ancient characters were carved into its surface, and a faint blue-white light flickered across them. This tower possessed the property of accumulating marrow-force in small quantities. Because of this, he could survive here. Here, he could reclaim his strength. Ten years. For ten years, Vertias had done nothing but accumulate power within these walls. Marrow-force—the vital energy that saturated this world. All magic depended upon it. Yet its use carried a price upon the body. Vision loss. Dulled sensation. Sometimes severe aftereffects. Excessive use led to "marrow-withering," a state of living death. All sensation and thought vanished, leaving only a breathing corpse. But for those who sought great power, such a price was negligible. Vertias descended the tower for his daily rounds. Five floors above ground and three below were usable. Of these, the "Marrow Vein Chamber" on the second basement level was most vital to him. The source of marrow-force seeping from the dimensional rift. Only there could he slowly, piece by piece, reclaim his shattered core. He descended the dim staircase. Only the rhythm of his footsteps striking stone echoed. At last, he reached the second basement level. The space was strange. A faint blue-white mist rose from the floor—the form of marrow-force leaking from the dimensional rift. When touched, it was warmly pleasant, seeping through the skin into the depths of the body. Vertias closed his eyes. A meditation posture. Both knees bent, back straight, hands resting upon his thighs. He drew in marrow-force through his body, absorbed it, accumulated it. Once, he could have consumed in a single breath what now took him hours to slowly absorb. In place of his lost core, he stored marrow-force within his flesh itself. A slow method. A painful one. Warmth flowed through his entire being. Then, gradually, that warmth faded. "Still insufficient. Still distant." When Vertias rose, his voice remained emotionless. He was far from the power revenge demanded. He was too weak to face that man. Yet he would not surrender. Only obsession sustained Vertias. When he returned to ground level, dawn was near. The gray sky brightened, ever so slightly. Vertias began his daily patrol of the tower's perimeter. A habit. He checked carefully for any disturbance in the wasteland, any intruders. Protecting this tower was protecting himself. On the tower's north side. Vertias's footsteps stopped. Footprints. Fresh ones. The soil had been disturbed only recently. He crouched slowly, observing the marks. Five toes. Deep claw marks. Not human. Demon. Yet this was Gehenna Wasteland. Neither human nor demon could ordinarily survive at the dimensional frontier. Without the minute marrow-force seeping from the rift, no living thing could exist. And no demon should be alive in this wasteland. In the great war ten years past, the human kingdom of Ludisea, led by the hero Ardant, had hunted demons to extinction. All survivors had been sold into slavery to the kingdom. Vertias knew this truth too deeply. He knew what fate had befallen his subordinates. "Who?" The word escaped as a murmur. Vertias drew his short blade from his waist. Thirty centimeters of steel. Blood-red color peeked from the sheath. The weapon of a former demon king. Now, his only means of survival. He followed the footprints. They circled the tower. Along the outer wall, methodical—marks of confirmation, observation, exploration. And they ended near the underground entrance. An intruder was here. Vertias's heart raced for the first time in years. Enemy? Ally? Or—something else? He moved quickly toward the basement. Down the spiral staircase, through the second basement level, deeper still. The third basement level. There stood a sealed door. A circular black door. Crafted from dark crystal stone, covered in countless ancient characters. The characters emitted no light, merely existed in quiet stillness. Even Vertias did not fully know what lay beyond this door. There was legend of one who had once managed this tower, yet in ten years, that figure had never appeared. But on the floor before the door—fresh scratches. Claw marks. Traces of metal tools. Evidence of an attempt to force it open. The door itself remained sealed, but the intruder's interest in this place was certain. "Will they return tomorrow?" Vertias placed his hand upon the door's surface. It was cold, pulsing faintly. Marrow-force flowed through it, barely perceptible. He began to channel marrow-force into it, then stopped. The door did not respond. It remained sealed, unyielding. "I can only wait." He turned back. Toward the surface. When he emerged from the tower, the gray sky had grown noticeably brighter. Dawn was imminent. Or rather, the sun had already risen, but in Gehenna Wasteland, it created no daylight. Always dim. Always cold. Always wrapped in silence. Vertias stood before the tower, gazing up at its silhouette. The wasteland's horizon revealed nothing. Only gray stretched endlessly. A desolate landscape. For ten years, he had stared at nothing but this view. But today was different. Someone had come. It was a sign that isolation had been broken, and simultaneously, the beginning of new danger. Vertias drew a slow, deep breath. The scar on his left shoulder throbbed. His hatred for that man surfaced, barely. For revenge, he would overcome whatever came. With that resolve renewed, he stood alone in the gray dawn.

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Episode 1

Name: The Fallen Demon King's Revenge: Prologue of Loss and Obsession
Author: Novelia

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