Chapter 1: A King's Departure
The throne room of the Red Moon Palace stretched into eternity, its towering columns carved from black obsidian and veined with streaks of glowing crimson. Massive chandeliers hung suspended in the air, their lights casting sharp, flickering shadows across the room.
Etchings of ancient wars adorned the walls, each groove filled with a faint red glow as if the stone itself bled. The air was thick with an unnatural stillness, broken only by the occasional crackle of the magical torches lining the chamber.
Seated upon a throne of solid blackstone sat a man draped in royal black robes. His presence was commanding yet strangely understated, as though the room itself bowed to him without fanfare. His pale skin gleamed like polished marble, and his black eyes, rimmed with faint crimson, held the weight of centuries.
Though his appearance was human, the small wings folded neatly behind him betrayed his true nature.
This was Katz Baldwin VI, the 36th Demon King of the Red Moon Empire.
He leaned forward, resting his chin on a clenched fist, his gaze distant as if lost in a sea of troubled thoughts. Though crowned as the ruler of his empire, Baldwin had long felt the weight of his title pulling him down. A thousand voices sang of his inadequacy—some whispered, some screamed. The weakest Demon King in history, they called him. Baldwin, however, cared little for their words.
The heavy silence was interrupted by a sharp knock on the ornate double doors of the throne room.
"Enter," Baldwin commanded, his voice calm, resonating through the chamber.
The doors creaked open, revealing a woman clad in gleaming white armor trimmed with crimson. Her black hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her piercing red eyes mirrored Baldwin's. The first Demon Lord, Katz Abyzou, walked with the poise of a seasoned warrior. She stopped before the throne and bowed deeply.
"I pay my respects to our king, Katz Baldwin VI. I am here as your first Demon Lord, Katz Abyzou," she said, her voice firm yet respectful.
Baldwin sighed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Raise your head, First Demon Lord Katz Abyzou. Did you complete the task I entrusted to you?"
Abyzou straightened, her face somber. "Yes, my lord. The entire world is now reeling from a man-made pandemic."
Baldwin's brows furrowed. "Man-made, you say? Do we know who is behind this?"
"My apologies, my lord. We found no solid evidence. However, I suspect a group is conducting experiments on humans. We discovered several laboratories, but each was destroyed before we could uncover anything substantial... except for one clue—the Church."
"Heh, looks like I was right after all," Baldwin thought to himself with a faint smirk.
Baldwin leaned back, his expression dark. "Hmm. So, even in chaos, humans find ways to destroy themselves. The Church, huh... Just as I thought," Baldwin muttered, his eyes narrowing."
The corners of Abyzou's mouth tightened. "It seems so, my lord."
A brief silence hung between them before Baldwin abruptly changed the subject.
"Now, let's talk about something else. Sis, why do you insist on embarrassing me by calling me 'lord' or 'king'? There's no one else here."
Abyzou's lips twitched into a faint smile. "It's office hours, and you are my king," she replied, crossing her arms.
"No." Baldwin shook his head, his smirk growing. "I order you to call me like you always do!"
"Fine, little brother," Abyzou relented, her tone softening. "What's in that scheming mind of yours this time?"
Baldwin stood, his wings shifting slightly as he stretched. "I've decided to leave the Red Moon Empire for a while. You'll govern in my absence. Everyone already knows you're the rightful successor to the 35th Demon King."
Abyzou froze, her red eyes narrowing. "No, brother. Stop this foolishness. You've restored our family's glory after four thousand years. You were chosen, the first since Demon King Azazel Greenblade. The eight noble families will revolt the moment they hear of this decision."
"And what will they do?" Baldwin asked, stepping closer. "Why was I chosen? Why not a commoner? Why must the chosen one always come from the noble families?"
Abyzou frowned, her voice lowering. "That's how the world works. Unless the child of prophecy appears, the chosen one will always be from the noble families. That's why they exist."
"I don't care." Baldwin's voice hardened. "My decision is final. From now on, you are the Governor of the Red Moon Empire."
Before Abyzou could protest further, Baldwin turned and began walking toward the massive double doors.
"Wait!" Abyzou called, her voice tinged with desperation. "What will you do if humans discover your identity? How do you plan to move freely in their lands? And what about the throne?"
Baldwin paused, glancing back at her. His expression was calm, but his eyes burned with defiance.
"Abyzou, that's a lot of questions, sister," Baldwin said with a half-smile, trying to keep his calm.
"Answering me doesn't cost you anything—especially when I'm doing you a big favor." Abyzou said, her voice smooth but laced with menace.
"A favor, yes… you could call it that," Baldwin said with a warm smile, as if his words carried no weight at all. "Sister, there's practically no one in this world who can stop me. They called me the weakest in history—yet I sit on the throne. Even if all eight nobles rose against me with everything they have… they still wouldn't be enough."
"Yes, it's all because of your title's effect," Abyzou said, her eyes narrowing. "The entire demon race is bound to follow you—whether they want to or not."
"As for the throne…" Baldwin turned slowly, his voice low and steady. "It's just a chair. Power isn't bound to stone and ceremony. Wherever I choose to stand—that is where the world will kneel"
"At least tell me where you're going," Abyzou said.
"You said the Church is behind this man-made pandemic, right?" Baldwin asked, eyes sharp with suspicion.
"Yes, Your Majesty. We found the Church—but it's deep within the Rance Republic's forest territory," Abyzou said, her voice steady yet urgent.
His form began to dissolve into shadows, his final words lingering in the air.
"Church, huh... They speak of God's wraths, but never of the Red Moon Emperor's wrath. Sister, watch over the Empire. I'll be paying a visit to those churches that forgot to mention my name."
Abyzou stood alone in the vast hall, staring at the darkened doorway. Slowly, she shook her head.
"Foolish as always," she muttered. Yet, beneath her words was a glimmer of admiration.
Baldwin stood at the threshold of the Red Moon Palace, the storm's thunder rumbling like a farewell. For two thousand years, this empire had been his kingdom, his burden. Now, cloaked in shadow, he left it all behind—not as a king, but like a ghost—unseen, untethered, fading into a world that had never known peace."
Using his shadow powers, Baldwin traversed the city unseen. The rainy season had cast a gloom over the land, and the streets were alive with hurried footsteps. People dashed to their homes as lightning carved brief scars across the sky. Concealed in the shadows, Baldwin observed his people one last time, ensuring the city was secure before his journey began.
Satisfied, he turned toward the borders. Traveling swiftly through forests and hills, he crossed into the United People's Estate (UPS), a human state allied with the Red Moon Empire. Despite the light drizzle, the world felt calmer here, a stark contrast to the chaos within the demon lands. He passed through the Ranch Republic, another human ally, enjoying the brief respite of anonymity.
After days of silent travel through rain-soaked roads and forgotten valleys, Baldwin reached the dense forest at the Rance Republic's border. With a whisper to the shadows, his form shifted—tall and regal fading into the image of an 13-year-old boy. Small, harmless. Forgettable. Just what he needed to be.
As he wandered through the forest, his sharp senses picked up faint sounds of distress. His eyes narrowed. Below, in the shadow of the hills, a girl sat on the muddy ground, surrounded by snarling wild dogs. The beasts, with bared fangs and glinting eyes, were moments from pouncing.
Without hesitation, Baldwin melded into the shadows and reappeared at the edge of the scene. He watched briefly, his hand resting on the hilt of his concealed blade. *Should I intervene?* he wondered, but the decision came quickly.
Stepping forward, his aura flared for just a moment—enough to send the dogs scurrying in terror. They whimpered and disappeared into the underbrush.
"Why are you sitting on the muddy ground? It's okay. They're gone now," Baldwin said, his voice calm.
The girl looked up, her face streaked with tears. Anger and despair flashed in her eyes.
"Why did you stop them?!" she screamed, fists clenched. "I wanted to die! Why didn't you just let it happen?!"
The words struck Baldwin harder than he expected. He knelt down, studying her. She couldn't have been older than ten or twelve. A child choosing death… when fear of dying should be their strongest instinct. What kind of world forces that choice on someone so young?
"That's a dark thought to have," he said, his tone soft. "What's your name? I'm Katz Baldwin."
"Why do you want to know my name?" she snapped. "Don't you know who I am? I bring misfortune to everyone. Just leave me alone!"
"I don't believe in misfortune," Baldwin replied, his gaze steady. "What happened to you? Tell me—I can help."
"You're just a kid like me. How can you help me?"
"Well," Baldwin said with a slight grin, "I'm a mage. Maybe I can fix your problem."
The girl hesitated, her defenses wavering. "You're… a mage? Really? You can help me?"
"Yes, I can."
She wiped her tears, though her voice still shook. "My mom… she's sick. She has the Homa Plague. I tried to get help, but no one will come. They say we're cursed…"
Baldwin's eyes hardened at the mention of the plague. He pieced together Abyzou's earlier report with the girl's story. His resolve solidified.
He extended a hand toward her. "Let's go. I'll take you to her. I'll make sure she gets better. No one is cursed—don't believe that nonsense."
The girl hesitated, staring at his hand as if it were a lifeline. Slowly, she took it, and Baldwin pulled her to her feet.
As they walked together toward her home, Baldwin's thoughts churned. This plague was no natural disaster—it was tied to something far darker, something man-made. And as he glanced at the frail girl beside him, he silently vowed to uncover the truth.
The storm above roared its discontent as Baldwin held the girl's hand. This was no mere act of kindness—it was the spark of a fire that would burn through the lies, curses, and divisions of their world.
They called him the weakest Demon King in history. Let them. Baldwin hadn't come to wage war. He had come to rewrite fate itself.