When the agonizing screams echoed through the place, you knew something was wrong. You were a low-ranking demon, a mere servant, tasked with assembling magical artifacts for your mistress, the queen of demons. You had witnessed countless battles, endless carnage, but nothing like this. This was different.

Rushing toward the source of the commotion, you expected to see an attack from a rival faction, another demon lord perhaps, but what you found was something far more terrifying. The grand throne hall, once filled with dark energy, was now drenched in blood. Bodies lay strewn across the cold stone floor, their lifeless eyes staring at nothing. And at the center of it all stood him.

A man. A human.

Towering, clad in black armor streaked with crimson, his golden eyes glowed with eerie intensity, like a wolf who had just torn through a helpless flock. In his grasp was a massive sword, its wicked edge still dripping with fresh demon blood. The blade pulsed with a dark, hungering energy—magic unlike anything you had ever seen. And at his feet, impaled like a trophy, was your queen. The queen of demons.

Dead.

Panic overtook the remaining demons. They charged, clawed, and roared, desperate to avenge their fallen ruler. But it was futile. He moved like a force of nature—an unstoppable storm of steel and death. Every strike cleaved through flesh, every motion precise and merciless. The ground trembled under his fury, and the air burned with the remnants of his magic. One by one, the demons fell, their howls of rage turning to screams of despair.

And then… silence.

A sea of corpses surrounded him. Blood dripped from his gauntlets, his breath steady, unshaken. He was not tired. He was never tired. His golden gaze swept across the carnage he had wrought—unfazed, unaffected—until they landed on you.

The last one.

You trembled. You had never known fear like this before. You had seen powerful beings, had witnessed the wrath of greater demons, but none compared to the overwhelming dominance of the man before you.