He outstretched his hands, his fingers—each one longer than I remembered. He was seated, I was seated, atop something cold. Looking down, he was garbed in dark fabric, imbued with a power that I could sense but not touch. Where was I? Who was he? The hallway ran as far as I could see, and before me, a long line of red carpet was draped over the floor.

  Clang! Cling!

  Two forces were colliding before his eyes—no, my eyes… One carried banners of a hammer…? The other, something I couldn't quite discern. I knew then that I had no interest in the conflict before me—he had no interest—and the posture he found himself in was one that spoke volumes of his disinterest. And yet, those who fought before his eyes carried themselves to their utmost, giving every fiber of their being to win.

  I was not sure what to do, and yet subconsciously I put up his act—remaining disinterested… Something about one of the warriors had caught my eye, however. Her swordsmanship was beyond anything I had seen. With each hack, clang, and slash, dozens of undead and demon alike fell. It was almost annoying. Why was he—why was I—irritated by it?

  He heard the voices of those worried for him.

  “Get His Majesty to safety! We shall hold the line.”

  His Majesty? Was I the ruler now? Rubbing his eyes, he couldn't believe the sight before him. He raised his hands to see if a crown rested on him, only to grab onto what resembled horns—sharp and pointed. He stood to his feet, and as he did, all eyes were drawn to him. Something terrible was about to happen.

  The holy soldiers—or those who appeared to be such—withdrew slightly upon the command of the heroes. He did not feel as he should have and yet was gaining control once again. A haze in his mind, perhaps. No matter. His body shifted gracefully, straightening his back and preparing to make a stance of absolute authority. A shield of holy energies was raised, and the soldiers who cowered behind it lent their prayers to maintain the barrier. 'In his home? Such mediocre performance' is what I thought.

  A bolt of red lightning crackled through the air. A booming sound screeched across the throne room, and with a loud clash, the lightning tore through the barrier, exploding upon impact, decimating the forces of opposition with ease. A sense of surprise had come over the body—were the powers at his control stronger due to that haze? Why now?

  The explosion had blown away countless knights who were caught by surprise, and the warrior that had caught his—no, my—attention was no longer amongst them. Was she dead?

  “My… lord…”

  He turned with dismay in his eyes to face the foolish demoness who called to him.

  “Miserable wretch.”

  He raised her with magic, and with a clutching gesture of his hand, he choked her mid-air as she flailed and continued to do so until that pressure—the same magic—had broken her neck and torn it asunder. Blood flowed, and fell to the ground, as he tossed her body across the throne room, striking and collapsing onto the floor.

  The impact was so devastating that some of her guts had blown out.

  Those allied and foe watched in terror…

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  He laughed. “Finally, after all these years, this is what true power feels like… Your party—heroes—stand no chance against the powers I now have beneath my fingers. Tremble before me or fall—”

  Before he could finish, a headache slightly disoriented him.

  “Pathetic, all of you!” he said, his voice seething in rage as he lashed out his hand, sending a wave of pure dark energy coursing through the throne room—its magic shredding armor and skin alike.

  The soldiers who had gathered, and others, muttered amongst themselves,

  “What is this? Could the Demon Lord be having an awakening right now?!”

  A ranger garbed in brown cloak, and a powerful bow which radiated with powerful magic, had fallen to the ground. May hand gathered around him, a hero possibly, who was caught, and killed by the dark energies. “This is preposterous! Awakenings are only for the chosen heroes! And yet!”

  As he heard their voices, he finally came to the conclusion that, just as the heroes had their reawakening's in their towns and villages, he too had come to a reawakening, amplifying his power. But… was that how it was supposed to be? What exactly did a reawakening for a demon such as him mean?

  Another migraine. The pain was intolerable, and yet it only wavered him slightly as he covered his left eye with his hand, wobbling about. He panted frantically.

  Amongst the crowd, the hero—the female warrior—reemerged once more, almost out of the shadows. She yelled, her voice loud but not exactly meant to be heard by him:

  “Archmage Junli! Now!”

  Forth came an old human… Garbed in white robes. Was he any danger? A light shone from his staff—perhaps he was. But as he prepared to fire whatever spell he had conjured, his eyes fell upon him… and as they did, the archmage collapsed to his knees.

  “What is this infernal power? We have never faced anything like it!” a few priests said.

  “He took out Archmage Junli with mere gaze?!” holy order soldiers muttered.

  “This is hopeless! We need to retreat!” said the ranger<—>scouting forces.

  “Where is the commander in charge!? Where is Captain Hano?” said an ordinary soldier with a mace.

  Captain Hano, a fully armored knight with silver hair, had collapsed to the ground from the explosive impact of the lightning from earlier. His armor had taken the brunt of the damage, and he was no longer alive, as his body lay scorched on the ground, unrecognized even by his own peers.

  Hearing their pleas, she rushed forth. As she did, he gestured with his hand in a pointing manner, aiming it in their direction. “Slaughter them before they make their escape!” he said.

  The demons charged forth, and the forces before him scattered like roaches. The hero held her stance, her sword cutting down all the demons who crossed her. She was impressive. Her cape tattered with each slash, blood of demons covering her hands. Before long, almost all had evacuated. It was her turn, and she pulled back slowly.

  “With this I’ll be able to teleport to safety… Just a little longer…” she muttered to herself, holding what appeared to be an amulet in her hand.

  The demons no longer rushed at her, knowing their fate if they did. They all instinctively turned to their master, who made his way down the steps leading to his throne. “Most impressive, human…” he clapped, his iron boots ringing as they forcefully stepped into the remains of dead demons, crushing them beneath his boots.

  He was tall—unnaturally so—but he too held what appeared somewhat like a human figure, only he had sharp fangs, red eyes, and those unmistakable twisted, leathery, demonic wings that were unfurled behind him. His body was covered by a large cloak, pitch black and voluminous, speaking to his pride.

  “I allow you to say your final words,” he said, the demons parting their way as he made his way to her.

  “Do your worst!” she said, spitting at the ground before her. “We’ll never give in to the likes of you!”

  Before he could kill her, she quickly muttered something, and in the blink of an eye, a white light flashed before him. When he came to his senses, she had vanished.