The sun had not risen for three days.
Over the Demon Realm, the sky was a churning sea of black clouds—twisting and unraveling like a dying curse.Ash drifted through the air, not from flame… but from magic.
The remnants of collapsing ley-lines.Of spells cast not to destroy, but to hold a crumbling world together… for just a little longer.
And at the center of the collapse—Upon the throne of Obsidian Aethernox—Sat a king who had already let go.
Alone.Still.Silent.
"So this is how it ends,"Jae whispered, fingers tapping faintly against the throne's cold armrest."Good."
At the gates, they arrived.
The Coalition of Realms.A final unity of mortal nations.A last crusade for peace.
At the vanguard stood the Three Heroes:
Alaric, King of Virelion.A warrior in silver-etched iron, blessed by the Church of the Sun. In his hand—The Celestial Blade of the Iron Crown, forged to pierce divine flesh and silence gods.
Aelion, High Elf of Elarindor.Last child of the stars, wrapped in flowing white and light. His staff—Luminearia, carved from the root of the First Tree, hummed with songs older than the moons.
Thorgar, High King of the Underforge.Elder Dwarf, armored in obsidian steel. At his side—The Worldshatter Hammer, shaped in the breath of the First Forge Titan.
Behind them:
Knights.Archers.Mages.Priests.Beastfolk shamans.All marching toward the throne with fire in their hearts and a single name on their lips:
"The Demon King."
But there were no legions guarding the gates.No cursed runes.No bloodied banners or skeletal beasts.
Only silence.
Only one man.
Jae rose.
Black robes trailed like spilled ink—threaded with runes that once shaped the laws of reality.He wore no armor.No crown.No sword.
Only a calm, tired smile.
"Welcome," he said,his voice neither loud nor magical—just... final.
The heroes froze.
"Is this a trick?" Alaric muttered, hand gripping his blade.
"There's no formation," Aelion said, his voice careful. "Not even a basic barrier."
"I smell no lies," Thorgar grunted. "But I smell something else."
He looked at Jae.
"No fear."
And there wasn't.
Only a stillness deeper than death.
The throne hall was vast. Empty.Jae stood in the center like a statue awaiting judgment.
"I will offer no resistance," he said.
"Why?" Alaric's voice rose. "You could destroy continents!"
"Because that's not the point of this war."
Alaric stepped forward.
"Then what is?!"
Jae's eyes softened.
"You came seeking justice. A villain to slay.Without a final enemy, your legends are incomplete.Your kingdoms, unfinished."
"Then what are we to you?" Aelion asked, his staff glowing with starlight.
"Authors," Jae replied.
"Of what?" Thorgar growled.
Jae stepped forward.
"Of my ending."
And then—The battle began.
But not like the tales.
No armies clashed.No horns blew.
Only four figures.
Alaric lunged—Celestial Blade trailing divine flame.Aelion summoned starfire—mana surging through the heavens.Thorgar shattered the floor—earth quaking beneath every strike.
And Jae…
Jae did not strike.
He moved.
He danced between them, weaving barriers from thought, disarming spells with runes born in silence.
A time ripple stopped Alaric's killing blow.A spatial loop redirected Aelion's meteor.A sound sphere caught the titan's hammer mid-air.
He never retaliated.Only deflected.Only whispered.
"Aelion… you hesitate. You doubt your kind."
Aelion blinked—his chant collapsed.
"Alaric… you carry grief like armor. But it's still grief."
Alaric stumbled—his blade missed.
"Thorgar… you don't fight for peace. You fight to delay extinction."
Thorgar's arms trembled.
He knew them.He'd always known them.
Jae had watched them grow.Guided them in dreams.Placed truths in their paths when they needed direction.
They believed they were here to end him.
But Jae had brought them here.
To end himself.
At last—
Alaric's blade struck true.
It pierced through Jae's heart.
A flash of light tore through the throne hall like a rising star.The sky outside split.The ley-lines cried.The world held its breath.
Jae fell to one knee.
Blood spilled across the marble.
Power unraveled like threads in the wind.
And yet—
He smiled.
"Thank you," he whispered."You've given them peace."
His body began to dissolve.
Not from death.
But from release.
Runes faded from his robes.His form shimmered—threads of soul slipping through space.
And far, far away—
Two beings felt it.
In the soul-forests, Lysandra stirred.Among the still stars, Varethos turned.
A signal.
"It's done."
And they responded.
"Begin the seal."
Jae's essence fell into the Rebirth Lattice,woven into the World Vein,sealed within the Time Cocoon beyond time and memory.
His name faded from history.His legacy silenced.
The Demon King was dead.
And yet—
He had never been more alive.