Three Years Ago — In the Kingdom's Northern Borderlands
The wind howled over the snow-drenched hills where Roric Drosen, still a fresh recruit in the royal army, stood beside his father, General Malric Drosen. They were patrolling the border, watching for signs of demonic activity—activity that had been disturbingly silent for weeks.
"Stay close, Roric," Malric warned, eyes narrowed at the dense forest ahead. "Something isn't right here."
"I know, Father," Roric replied, gripping his sword tightly. "It's too quiet."
Suddenly, a rustling came from the trees. Before either could react, a deep, rumbling voice echoed through the woods.
"You, the mighty general of the humans… You will make a fine vessel."
A figure stepped into the clearing—tall, cloaked in a dark, twisted armor adorned with jagged spikes. His eyes burned like embers. Demon General Orion, the puppetmaster of bodies and shadows.
Malric raised his blade. "Roric, run!"
"No!"
But before Roric could charge in, a wave of black smoke swirled around him, knocking him back. Gasping, he watched in horror as Orion's body melted into a black mist and lunged toward his father.
Malric screamed—not in fear, but defiance—as the smoke entered his mouth, eyes, ears… and then everything fell silent.
Roric lay dazed on the ground. When he came to, his father stood over him, offering a hand.
"You're safe now," Malric said with an eerie smile.
Roric accepted the hand, but deep inside, something felt... wrong.
---
Present Day — Elwynd Camp, Rael's Room
Roric stood frozen, his blade drawn and pointed at the figure that had once been his father. The memories flooded back—the change in behavior, the uncharacteristic cruelty, the dismissiveness toward the king's orders.
Now, the truth lay bare before him.
"You're not him," Roric whispered. "You never were. Not since that day…"
Seraphina stirred beside Rael's unconscious form, gasping as she took in the scene—Roric trembling, and the demonic entity shifting, dark tendrils peeling back to reveal Demon General Orion in full.
"You finally see through the lie, boy," Demon General Orion said, voice guttural. "Three years I walked among your kind, learning, feeding, waiting."
Roric's grip tightened.
"Seraphina, take Rael. Get him out of here."
"But—"
"Now!" Roric barked.
She nodded, summoning her magic to lift Rael's unconscious form in a glowing sphere of light. "I'll keep him safe," she whispered and ran.
Demon General Orion laughed. "Sending her away? Brave, but foolish. You'll die here alone."
"No," Roric growled, unsheathing his second blade. "You're weaker than Demon General Envy and Gluttony. Rael beat them. I will beat you."
Steel met claw as the battle exploded inside the narrow confines of the room. Dust and shards of wood flew as Demon General Orion launched shadowy projectiles. Roric dodged, countered, bled. The demon was relentless—but something was different. Slower. Sloppier.
"You're not the strongest," Roric said between breaths. "You're just a coward who wears other men's skin."
Orion snarled, shape shifting mid-fight into Malric's face. "Roric… Son, please… It's me. Your father…"
Roric faltered, blade inches from striking.
"Remember how I taught you to hold a sword? How I carried you on my shoulders—"
Tears welled in Roric's eyes. "You… You're not him. He died protecting me."
The demon lunged.
And Roric, eyes fierce and heart broken, drove both swords through Orion's chest.
Dark blood spilled. The illusion shattered.
Orion's body convulsed, then collapsed in a heap of steaming ash. The room fell silent, save for Roric's ragged breathing.
Moments later, the door burst open. High-ranking knights, along with King Edward Stoneheart himself, stormed in.
"Roric?! What happened here?"
Roric turned, his armor scorched, his face streaked with blood and tears.
"He's gone," Roric said quietly. "My father… he's been gone for a long time."
The king approached, eyes shadowed with grief. "I'm sorry, Roric. If only we had known..."
Roric looked down at the ashes, clenching his fists. "He died a hero. And I will carry that legacy forward—for Rael… for Eldoria."
King Edward laid a firm hand on the boy's shoulder.
"You are your father's son, Roric. And you are not alone."
Roric gave a weary nod, eyes already drifting toward the hallway—toward where Seraphina had gone, where Rael still slept, and where the future still hung in the balance.