The silence within the Demon Lord's castle was deafening, unnatural. It wasn't the quiet of peace—it was the stillness before a cataclysm. The very stones that made up the vast, obsidian halls trembled with restrained power. Shadows clung to the edges of vision, twisting unnaturally, as if watching.
Tym stood in the great hall, the chamber once used for the coronation of kings who dared call themselves demons. His crimson eyes flicked across the high pillars, lingering on the walls etched with the Demon Lord's countless conquests. But the power that once made this place feel alive—feral and vengeful—was muted. Dormant.
Something was wrong.
Xandros strode in, his black armor clinking with every step, the sound echoing like a drumbeat in a tomb. "It's too quiet," he muttered, voice low, dangerous. "I can still feel the Demon Lord's presence… but it's as if he's dreaming, not awakening."
Tym's jaw tightened. "That's because someone's tampered with the flow of his revival."
Xandros stopped, turning toward the smaller demon. "You're saying someone interfered with the resurrection ritual?"
Tym's gaze narrowed. "Not just someone. Sakata Buddha."
The name rang through the chamber like a thunderclap. For a moment, the shadows themselves recoiled.
Xandros let out a harsh laugh. "That decrepit monk? I should have ended him when he dared walk these halls. What could he possibly do in this fortress?"
Tym didn't smile. "Exactly what he did. Fool us all while smiling in our faces."
He waved a hand, and a cadre of elite dark guards materialized from the shadows—silent, featureless, and deadly. "Sweep every level of this castle. Especially below the sealed chamber. Look for anything that wasn't here a year ago. Now."
The guards vanished without a word, dissolving like smoke caught in a gale.
---
Hours passed.
The castle stirred with unease. Even the corrupted beasts that prowled its outer defenses howled in confusion as the air thickened with strange distortions.
Then—thud. A guard dropped to one knee before Tym, breathing heavily. "We found it. In the lower sanctum. Near the Demon Lord's seal."
Tym's eyes lit with cold fire. "Show me."
He and Xandros descended the winding spiral staircase that led deep beneath the castle—beyond the reach of sunlight, past layers of black stone inscribed with forgotten curses.
The sealed sanctum was a tomb of ancient hatred. Pulsing dark crystals lined the walls, flickering with barely-contained rage. And in its center—hovering like a parasite clinging to a god—was a device.
Metal twisted around shimmering magical cores. Ancient runes danced across its surface, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat trapped in a dream.
Xandros flinched. "What... is that?"
Tym stepped closer, eyes widening. "It's not ours. Not demonic. Not draconic. It's temporal."
Xandros' eyes narrowed. "You mean—?"
Tym hissed through his teeth. "A time distortion artifact. It's slowing time around the seal. That's why our Lord's return feels like a slow breath instead of a roar."
Xandros' fury boiled over. "That monk! He planted this thing under our noses!"
He drew his massive blade, its jagged edge glowing with black flame. The runes along the weapon snarled in a forgotten tongue.
"I'll destroy it—now!"
Tym held out a hand. "No."
Xandros turned to him, fangs bared. "Are you mad?! This thing is choking our master's return!"
"And what if it's a trap?" Tym shot back. "What if the moment we destroy it, it triggers a self-destruct, or worse—a beacon? Sakata isn't just playing defense. He's stalling for something. Or someone."
Xandros growled, muscles tense, but he didn't strike.
"We study it first," Tym said coldly. "Decode it. Understand its parameters. Then we dismantle it with precision. When it's safe."
"And if it's not?" Xandros asked.
Tym's lips curled into a snarl. "Then we tear it apart anyway and burn whatever fallout comes with it. But we will not play into Sakata's hands."
Xandros lowered his blade with a grunt. "Fine. But once this is over, I want his head. No games. No tricks."
"You'll have it," Tym whispered, already turning back to the artifact. "He's played his move. Now it's our turn."
The dark guards surrounded the device, their tendrils of shadow snaking into its mechanisms, beginning their slow unravelling of its secrets.
Far above them, the heart of the castle pulsed again—stronger this time. A warning.
The Demon Lord stirred beneath the haze.
And soon, nothing would be able to stop his return.
To Be Continued...