The air in the Blood Citadel's throne room tasted of copper and ozone. Kael Lightbringer adjusted his grip on the Divine Sword, its holy glow casting harsh shadows across the obsidian floor. Blood dripped from a gash above his eye, but he paid it no mind. His gaze remained fixed on the towering figure before him.

  "It ends here, Demon King." His voice carried the weight of a seven-year quest. "Your reign of terror is over."

  The Demon King Machar stood twice the height of a man, his midnight-bck armor fused with his crimson skin. Six curved horns crowned his head like a macabre diadem, and wings of shadow unfurled behind him. Despite the wounds littering his massive frame, his ughter shook the very foundations of the citadel.

  "So confident, little hero," the Demon King rumbled. "Many have stood where you stand. Their bones now adorn my throne."

  Kael's companions—the people he'd fought alongside, suffered with, and grown to love as family—formed a semicircle behind him. Each bore the marks of their arduous journey through the Seven Territories of the demon realm.

  "Formation Omega," Kael commanded, his voice steady despite the exhaustion threatening to buckle his knees.

  Era, the kingdom's Saintess, stepped forward first. Her once-pristine white robes were now stained with soot and blood, but the divine light emanating from her staff remained undimmed. In her presence, Kael felt the familiar surge of holy energy reinforcing his limbs.

  "I am with you always," she had promised him the night before they entered the Scar. The memory of her lips against his gave him strength now.

  "Divine Bulwark," she called, raising her staff. A shimmering dome of golden light enveloped their party.

  A heartbeat ter, Marcus darted forward, his assassin's bdes gleaming with alchemical poisons. The grizzled veteran had lost an eye during their battle in the Shadow Forest, but his remaining one burned with vengeful purpose.

  "This is for my vilge, you bastard," he growled, unleashing a flurry of strikes against the Demon King's legs.

  The demon's obsidian bde came crashing down, but Marcus was already gone, rolling aside as Thorne, the dwarven battlemaster, charged in. His enchanted hammer struck the Demon King's knee with a sickening crunch.

  "Rotation pattern!" Kael called, falling into the combat rhythm they had perfected over countless battles.

  Lady Vivian, their aristocrat-turned-battle-mage, began weaving complex patterns with her crystal staff. The air crackled as elemental forces coalesced around her.

  "I need thirty seconds," she called, her normally haughty voice strained with concentration.

  "You'll have them," promised Zephyr, the elven archer, as he loosed three arrows in rapid succession. Each shaft was blessed by Era, their holy light cutting through the miasma of demonic energy surrounding the throne room.

  The battle flowed like a deadly dance, each member of Kael's party moving with practiced precision. They had come so far together.

  Seven years earlier

  "You want me to do what?" Kael had stared incredulously at the High Priest, the Divine Sword still unfamiliar in his calloused farm boy hands.

  "Lead a party to defeat the Demon King," the elderly cleric repeated, his rheumy eyes fixing Kael with an unnerving stare. "The prophecy has chosen you, boy. The divine marks on your palm prove it."

  Kael looked down at the birthmark that had always set him apart in his small vilge—a perfect seven-pointed star that now glowed with inner light since his arrival at the capital.

  "But I'm nobody. I can barely swing this sword."

  "You will learn," the priest assured him. "And you will not go alone."

  That day, Kael had met his destined companions for the first time. Marcus, already a veteran of border skirmishes. Thorne, whose cn had been decimated by demon raids. Vivian, seeking to restore her family's honor. Zephyr, whose forest home had been corrupted by demonic influence.

  And Era. The Saintess whose gentle smile hid an iron will.

  None of them had trusted each other then. Seven years of hardship had forged them into something more than family.

  In the present, the Demon King's massive fist smashed through Era's barrier. The Saintess staggered back, blood trickling from her nose from the magical backsh.

  "Era!" Kael shouted, fear cwing at his throat.

  "Focus on the mission," she called back, already beginning to weave another spell. "I'm fine."

  He knew she was lying. The continued use of the Saintly Arts was consuming her from within. Each spell brought her closer to becoming a vessel—a mere conduit for divine power with no humanity remaining.

  The thought fueled his rage. He charged forward, the Divine Sword leaving trails of light in its wake.

  "Vivian, now!" he shouted.

  "Grand Elemental Convergence!" the mage cried, releasing the spell she had been building.

  Fire, ice, lightning, and stone coalesced into a devastating torrent that struck the Demon King square in the chest. The monster roared in pain, momentarily staggered.

  "All together!" Kael commanded.

  His companions unleashed their most powerful attacks in perfect synchronicity. Thorne's hammer shattered the demon's knee, bringing him down. Zephyr's arrows pierced vulnerable joints in the armor. Marcus's bdes severed tendons with surgical precision. Era's holy light seared demonic flesh.

  And Kael leapt high, the Divine Sword raised above his head. Time seemed to slow as he looked into the Demon King's eyes. What he saw there wasn't fear, but something unexpected—satisfaction.

  The bde came down, plunging deep into the center of the Demon King's chest. Bck ichor erupted from the wound, hissing where it touched the holy steel.

  "It is... done," Machar's voice had changed, becoming almost gentle. "The cycle... continues."

  "What cycle?" Kael demanded, twisting the bde. "What are you talking about?"

  The dying demon's ugh was wet with blood. "Ask... your precious... Church. Ask what... happens to fallen heroes."

  "Don't listen to his lies," Era said sharply, appearing at Kael's side. "Demons always try to sow doubt at the end."

  Kael nodded, but the seed had been pnted. Throughout their journey, they had discovered much that the Church had hidden from them—truths about the world's history that contradicted the official narrative. But now was not the time for doubts.

  "For the light," he whispered, driving the sword deeper.

  "For the light," his companions echoed.

  The Demon King's body began to dissolve, dark motes of energy swirling like ashes in a gale. His final words were barely audible:

  "We will meet again... when you stand... where I stand now."

  Then he was gone. The oppressive aura that had filled the citadel for centuries lifted like a fog burning away in morning sunlight.

  For a moment, there was only silence. Then Thorne let out a triumphant ugh that quickly became contagious. Soon they were all embracing, tears streaming down dirt-stained faces.

  "We did it," Marcus said, disbelief in his voice. "We actually did it."

  "The prophecy is fulfilled," Era said, her face radiant despite her exhaustion. She turned to Kael, her eyes shining. "You fulfilled your destiny."

  Kael smiled, but something felt wrong. The Divine Sword in his hand seemed heavier than before, and the wound on his forehead burned with unnatural intensity.

  "We should return to Radiant Citadel," he said, sheathing the weapon. "The kingdom will want to celebrate."

  Vivian was already cataloging valuable artifacts from the throne room. "The spoils of war," she expined with a grin. "Royal prerogative."

  As his friends began gathering trophies and preparing for the journey home, Kael approached the obsidian throne. It was carved from a single massive piece of volcanic gss, etched with runes he couldn't read. Tentatively, he reached out to touch it.

  Pain nced through his arm the moment his fingers made contact. Before he could cry out, a vision fshed before his eyes: the same throne room, but from the perspective of someone sitting on the throne. He saw himself and his companions entering, but from the eyes of the Demon King.

  The vision vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving him gasping.

  "Kael? Are you all right?" Era asked, concern etching her perfect features.

  "Fine," he lied, flexing his fingers to dispel the lingering sensation. "Just tired."

  She smiled and took his hand. "It's over now. We can go home."

  Home. The word should have filled him with joy. Instead, a strange emptiness opened within him. Seven years of his life had been dedicated to this quest. What would he do now?

  "Yes," he said, forcing enthusiasm into his voice. "Let's go home."

  As they left the Blood Citadel, Kael couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted within him. The Demon King's cryptic final words echoed in his mind.

  We will meet again... when you stand... where I stand now.

  He gripped the Divine Sword's hilt, taking comfort in its familiar warmth. Whatever doubts pgued him, he had done what was right. The Demon King was defeated. Humanity was safe.

  The journey back through the Seven Territories would be easier now. Within a month, they would cross the Scar and return to the human kingdom of Lumina as legendary heroes.

  Kael had no way of knowing that his true ordeal was only beginning, or that his greatest betrayal would come not from the demons he had fought, but from those he had fought for.