"Now, Samuel," Ryan said calmly, his voice echoing like a distant bell through the hushed, ancient hall, "you will bow and swear your loyalty to me. Become my eternal servant, or be left to your fate. I already know the truth about your power—it's at the peak of the secret tier. With it, and the path you're about to walk, you could become a legend. The choice is yours. You have ten seconds."
The air trembled, humming with invisible tension, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. Samuel slowly rose, his massive frame casting a shadow like a falling mountain. His deep voice rumbled like distant thunder rolling across stormy plains.
"I accept."
He knelt, the cold stone cracking faintly beneath his weight, lowering his head with a grace that echoed ancient sorrow.
"I, once an Archangel and now a fallen demon, swear my loyalty to Ryan Draven. I vow to serve him faithfully—for all eternity."
As the final word left his lips, a strange energy shimmered through the air—a subtle vibration like the hum of distant stars. It was as if an invisible thread stitched their fates together, glowing briefly in the unseen realm.
Ryan stepped forward, drawn by something deeper than reason. From the folds of his cloak, he pulled out a small, worn wooden box—its surface rough and darkened with age, edges chipped from centuries of silence. As he opened it, the air seemed to still.
Inside lay an ancient crown: forged gold, dulled by time yet glowing faintly, like sunlight caught beneath a river's surface. Intricate carvings wove across it, their lines delicate as whispered prayers. Under Ryan's touch, the crown pulsed faintly, as though recognizing the soul that dared to hold it.
He approached the kneeling demon—no longer a figure of fear, but one of potential—and gently placed the crown upon his head.
In that moment, the chamber blazed with radiant light—not harsh, but warm, like the first sun after endless winter. The crown responded to Ryan's purity; its carvings flared with ethereal fire, bathing the hall in light.
One could not crown themselves; only a heart full of light could bestow that honor. And Ryan had that light.
A sudden flash burst like a star being born.
Samuel's dark form began to change—the black, ragged wings unfolded and gleamed, feathers shedding shadow as they turned to shining silver. His skin brightened, as if the very essence of heaven was pouring back into him. The shadows that once clung to him peeled away like burnt paper, revealing armor that gleamed like hammered sunlight, etched with runes of light and purity.
His tattered robe melted into flowing silk, golden and weightless, as if woven from sunlight and sky. He no longer radiated fury or sorrow—he radiated tranquil power, the calm before the miracle.
Tears welled in his eyes—not of weakness, but release. His voice trembled with reverence.
"Thank you, Ryan. I will serve you until the end of days."
He stood tall. "Let me go now. When you need me again, call. I will come."
But Ryan stepped closer. His voice was firm. "Not yet. You've just begun your legend. And we haven't finished our revenge."
Samuel blinked. "What do you mean? Do you want me to destroy the city?"
Ryan shook his head. "No. I want the city to recognize you."
Samuel tilted his head, confused.
"Get ready for your next act," Ryan said, eyes glowing faintly. "You're the lead this time."
Samuel gave a slow nod. He didn't really have a choice. Ryan was his master now.
Hours passed. The sun dipped low. Shadows stretched across the cobbled streets.
Just as twilight cloaked the City of Hills in dusky gold, a tremor rippled through the cobbled streets, rattling windows and halting breath. Inside their homes, people froze—teacups suspended mid-air, prayers stalled on parted lips. The wind turned sharp, like a blade sliding slowly across skin. Then came a sound—a roar so deep it seemed to rise from the bones of the earth itself, echoing into the heavens.
From beyond the distant hills, a monstrous figure surged upward, tearing through the horizon like a living nightmare. Over a hundred feet tall, it loomed—its body forged of fire and smoke, shifting between shapes like a fever dream, held together only by fury. Eyes like molten coals pierced the city below, glowing with ancient wrath.
The demon's voice thundered across the land, like a thousand war drums pounding in unison.
"Today, I shall have my revenge! I will destroy all of you! This day marks the end of my prison!"
Panic ignited. Screams shattered the silence like splintered glass. Doors slammed. Children wailed. Overhead, the sky bled crimson, as if the heavens themselves had been wounded. A thick red fog slithered over rooftops, curling like ghost-serpents through alleyways, choking the breath from the air.
With a sweeping gesture, the demon struck a long-abandoned building, shattering it into rubble. The resulting shockwave echoed through the city like a thunderclap. Another roar followed—louder, angrier. It could be heard in every corner of the hills.
Just as despair threatened to swallow the final sliver of hope, a blinding light split the sky in two. White-gold and pure, it burned through the crimson clouds like justice descending from above.
A figure emerged—graceful, radiant, unstoppable.
Golden armor clung to him like sunlight made solid. Each step shimmered with command. His gauntlet blazed like the morning sun; his helmet concealed his face, but not the resolve in his stance. Even the wind stilled around him, as if the world itself paused to witness his arrival.
"I am the Hero of Light!" he cried, his voice bright as crystal, fierce as a vow. "I will protect this city—even if it costs my life!"
The demon laughed—a sound that cracked rooftops, curled stone, and shook the earth beneath trembling feet.
"I hold the city's crown now! Its power is mine!"
Atop the demon's massive head, the royal crown pulsed with corrupted majesty. Once a symbol of unity, it now radiated ruin—dark energy bleeding from its jewels like ink, twisting the very air.
"I control this land!" the demon roared. "You cannot save your people!"
He raised a hand and fired a beam of searing red light at another abandoned structure on the city's outskirts. It collapsed in a fiery burst. Though empty, its destruction deepened the terror in every heart.
But the Hero stood tall—a lone pillar of gold amid a storm of shadow.
"I'm not here to fight," he said, his voice gentle—like balm on a bleeding wound. Bowing his head—not in surrender, but in reverence—he continued, "I ask forgiveness—for all the wrongs done to you. Not just in my name… but in the name of everyone. If punishment must fall, let it fall on me first."
The crowd stilled. A hush bloomed—sacred and fragile—broken only by the whisper of wind through broken chimneys.
"You are right," the Hero continued, lifting his gaze. "You were cast out. Misunderstood. But revenge only repeats the pain. Please… forgive us."
A sword of fire flared into the demon's hand—a massive blade of living flame, taller than a tree. The heat rippled through the air like a desert mirage. He raised it high, and the crowd gasped—an entire city caught in one suspended breath.
But he did not strike.
He hovered in place, unmoving—thoughtful.
His massive hand trembled. The flames flickered. In those ember-lit eyes, something fractured—not rage, but memory. A glimpse of who he once had been.
"Very well," the demon rumbled at last, voice low as distant thunder. "I forgive you."
Silence fell—soft as snowfall.
Then, slowly, a ripple moved through the crowd. One by one, heads bowed—not in fear, but in humility. In sorrow. In hope.
But not all bowed.
From the edge of the crowd, defiant voices rang out—sharp and bitter.
"We will never bow to a Demon!"
Without hesitation, the demon turned. In a burst of red flame—swift and searing—they were gone. Nothing remained but drifting motes of ash.
Behind him, Maya stood still, a faint, serene smile playing on her lips. She watched with knowing calm. Everything was unfolding exactly as Ryan had planned.
After witnessing this, the rest of the city bowed—quickly, silently. No one dared speak. None defied the Hero of Light.
The demon turned back to the city. His voice, now calm, washed over them like dusk's final breeze.
"I forgive all of you. Farewell… City of Hills."
And with the softest whisper—like leaves drifting in an autumn wind—his form unraveled into smoke and starlight, vanishing into the night sky.
The city erupted in joy.
People cried, danced, and cheered in the streets. Bells rang from towers that hadn't rung in a hundred years. The red fog lifted like a heavy curtain, and the sky became clear once more.
For the first time in a century, the City of Hills held a grand festival. Lights glowed from every window. Music filled the night. The Hero of Light, still shining in golden armor, walked among the people.
Then the mayor stepped forward—Samuel.
Ryan's eyes widened. It all made sense now. Samuel had always been the mayor. He had lived among them for centuries, hidden in plain sight.
Samuel shook Ryan's hand. "Thank you—for helping free me. And the city."
Ryan only smiled. He knew the truth. The demon hadn't been defeated. He had forgiven.
Later, as the night deepened and stars filled the sky, Ryan and Samuel stood away from the crowd.
"I wish I'd known you were the mayor," Ryan said with a grin. "It would've made things ten times easier."
Samuel chuckled. "I never planned it like this. Maybe they hate me… but I still love this city. It's a part of me."
"Then stay," Ryan offered. "Stay mayor. With you here, it'll be easier for me to guide this place. We'll have full control."
Samuel gave him a long look. "You're not the spoiled Raven boy anymore. You're more dangerous than the King of Gods. You're… something else entirely."
Ryan laughed quietly. "Even I'm not sure what I am anymore."
Just then, Maya called out, wearing the city's traditional gown. Ryan turned to her with a smile.
The music rose again. Laughter echoed across the rooftops.
And as the people danced under the stars, Ryan knew this was just the beginning of a much greater story.
Before dawn, Ryan and Maya left the city in a quiet carriage, both asleep from the long night of celebration.
The road ahead was long. The City of Aston waited.