The winds of change had settled over Nyxvaris. For the past few years, Azire had carefully maintained a balance between his training and his responsibilities. At fifteen, he was becoming more aware of his surroundings—his power, his enemies, and the fragile world he inhabited. Meanwhile, Suna, now sixteen, had grown into a captivating young woman. Her beauty, though often understated, seemed to mesmerize everyone around her. As much as Azire tried to ignore it, he couldn't help but notice the way the town's young men looked at her with awe. He couldn't deny the stirring of something in his chest whenever he saw her, but he quickly dismissed it, telling himself that his feelings didn't matter.
He had a purpose—goals that came first.
Though his hand-to-hand combat had improved significantly, his magical abilities had stagnated. Azire had always focused on honing his physical skills, leaving his magic to the background. That was until his eye began to reveal new powers—powers that felt more like pieces of a puzzle he wasn't ready to complete. The ability to summon a protective barrier, read people's thoughts, and heightened senses were useful but incomplete. His eye pulsed with untapped potential, but for now, he focused on each power, waiting for the right moment to unlock the next stage.
Suna, ever the diligent teacher, had been imparting her knowledge about the political landscape of the world. The hierarchy she outlined was clear: Angels at the top, Fallen Angels a step below, followed by humans, beasts, and finally, demons—the lowest of the low. She spoke of the Queen's growing influence, a human who wielded a staff of unimaginable power, and how humans had swiftly risen to dominate the world's stage, pushing the demons further into the shadows.
But it wasn't just the Queen that intrigued Azire—it was the Fallen Angels. He had heard whispers of a mysterious faction called the "Forgettables." A shadowy organization that moved in darkness, ensuring their existence was forgotten by all. Their true motives were unknown, but their enmity with the Fallen Angel kingdom was clear. Azire couldn't shake the feeling that this group, hidden in plain sight, was more dangerous than anyone realized. Secrecy often bred treachery, and Azire knew better than anyone how easily things could go unseen.
Shaking off the weight of these thoughts, he muttered, "There's nothing we can do about it right now," his voice tinged with impatience. The world's complexities weren't his primary concern—not yet.
Then, a change in his appearance felt necessary. The time had come to embrace the role that had always been his birthright.
"I'm going to start acting the part," Azire said, turning to Suna, who was absentmindedly examining a flower she had plucked from the ground.
"New clothes?" Suna asked with a smirk, her playful tone betraying her curiosity.
"Exactly," Azire replied. "Let's go shopping."
Together, they made their way into the bustling village market, filled with merchants hawking their wares and townsfolk negotiating prices. Azire, for once, let go of his usual reserved nature, allowing himself to enjoy the simple act of choosing new clothing. He picked out an all-black ensemble—a choice that seemed to fit his evolving sense of self. Black shoes, black pants, and a sleek black shirt. The outfit felt both calm and commanding, perfect for the future he was ready to step into.
As he wandered through the market stalls, something caught his eye. A robe—dark, imposing, with intricate designs woven into the fabric, cascading down the back like the shadows of a forgotten world. The moment he touched it, a strange pulse of energy seemed to resonate with him, as if the garment itself recognized him. The aura of the robe matched his own ambitions.
Suna, ever observant, raised an eyebrow but didn't comment when she noticed the two small horns that had begun to sprout atop Azire's head. They had appeared gradually over the past few months, the symbol of his growing connection to his demonic heritage. He knew they were a sign, but what they meant, he didn't know yet. Suna said nothing, respecting his silence on the matter.
After Azire finished his selection, Suna turned to her own attire. Unlike Azire's somber choice, Suna's selection was an all-white kimono-like robe. She explained that the white fabric would enhance her magical abilities, though she didn't elaborate on how exactly. It was enough for Azire to trust her judgment.
With their new clothes chosen, they decided to train. The fields outside the village were quiet, the distant hum of nature's energy only interrupted by the occasional flutter of birds' wings. Azire and Suna began their exercises, each pushing their limits, sweat glistening in the sun.
It was then that they were interrupted. A voice called out from a nearby tree, deep and commanding.
"Hello, my successors."
Azire's head snapped up, his senses immediately alert. Suna tensed beside him.
"Uno," Azire greeted, recognizing the familiar figure of their sensei perched nonchalantly on a branch. "What's going on?"
"I see you've been working hard," Uno said, studying the two of them with his usual calm, unwavering gaze. "But the time has come for something more."
Azire felt his pulse quicken. "A quest?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
Uno gave a slow nod. "Yes, exactly. However, there's more to it than you know. We need resources—funds. Things are shifting in Nyxvaris. We need to be prepared."
Excitement swelled within Azire. The idea of finally being sent on a mission, to prove his worth, to fight... it was exactly what he had been waiting for.
Suna, too, seemed to feel the rush of anticipation. They both shouted in unison, "Finally! I've been working my ass off, and now I finally get to fight!"
Uno raised a hand, silencing them. "Hold your celebrations. You don't know what you're up against. Word is that a new Demon King has appeared."
Azire's heart skipped a beat. A new Demon King? The words rang through him like a bitter, insistent drumbeat. An imposter? His hands clenched at his sides, the familiar surge of rage bubbling up inside him. No one can take my title. I am the Demon King. Anyone who dares challenge me will regret it.
Uno seemed to sense the storm brewing inside Azire, his eyes narrowing slightly. "We'll see who this new Demon King really is," he said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. "But be careful. There's more at play here than you realize."
Azire couldn't shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something much larger. The air around him crackled with potential, and he knew, deep down, that this would define him. This was his moment.
As they made their way back to their hotel, Uno gave them their instructions. "Prepare yourselves. I'll go retrieve the quest details. You two ready yourselves for what lies ahead."
Azire nodded, his mind already racing ahead to what he might face. This journey—this fight—would be the one that shaped the fate of Nyxvaris. It was time to stop pretending. It was time to become the Demon King.