The training yard lay in ruins. Stone targets had been reduced to rubble, practice dummies sliced to pieces, and the once-pristine floor was scarred with impact craters. In the center of the destruction stood Jason Miller, golden light pulsing around him in waves as he fought to control the divine power coursing through his body.
Two weeks had passed since the disastrous mission to the Void Chamber. Two weeks of relentless training, pushing himself beyond normal human limits. His muscles ached with a bone-deep fatigue that even the Goddess's blessing couldn't completely erase.
"Again!" he commanded, his voice echoing across the empty yard.
The Temple Guardians, who normally assisted with his training, had left hours ago, unwilling or unable to match his punishing schedule. Only Captain Darian remained, watching silently from the sidelines, concern etched on his weathered face.
Jason raised his sword- the enchanted blade gifted to him during his arrival ceremony- and channeled divine energy through it. Golden light surged along the metal, almost blinding in its intensity. With a cry that was half rage and half determination, he executed a complex sequence of attacks against imaginary opponents, each strike precise and devastatingly powerful.
As he completed the final movement, the golden energy suddenly flickered, dimming momentarily before flaring back to full strength. Jason staggered, momentarily disoriented by the fluctuation.
"That's enough for today, Champion," Captain Darian said, stepping forward. "You've been at this since dawn."
Jason shook his head, steadying himself. "Not yet. I need to master this."
"Pushing yourself to collapse won't help anyone," Darian replied firmly. "The war council meets in two hours. You should rest and prepare. Also, Master Thorne is almost ready for you."
Jason frowned but couldn't argue with the logic. The council was expecting him to approve their offensive strategy- the culmination of weeks of planning. He needed to be focused for that.
"Fine," he conceded, sheathing his sword. The golden energy surrounding him didn't fade completely but settled into a subtle aura that had become his constant companion. "Tomorrow we double the training regimen."
Darian's expression suggested he disagreed but was too wise to say so. "As you wish, Champion."
-----
As Jason made his way to his quarters in the temple's eastern wing, he couldn't help noticing the reverence with which others regarded him. Priests bowed deeply as he passed. Citizens who had come to worship prostrated themselves. Children peeked around their parents' legs to catch a glimpse of the legendary Champion of Light.
The adoration no longer felt strange. If anything, it reinforced his sense of purpose. These people needed him. They believed in him. He couldn't- wouldn't- let them down.
His quarters were palatial compared to his college dorm room back on Earth. The Temple of Light had given him a suite normally reserved for visiting dignitaries, complete with a private bath, study, and balcony overlooking the city. Servants had laid out fresh clothes for the council meeting- formal attire in white and gold, embellished with the sunburst emblem that had become his personal symbol.
As he bathed and changed, Jason reflected on how quickly he had adapted to this world. His life on Earth- football championships, academic achievements, his family and friends- seemed increasingly distant, like a half-remembered dream. This world, with its clear purpose and defined enemies, felt more real than anything he had known before.
The brief power fluctuation during training troubled him, though. It wasn't the first time this had happened. Since the Void Chamber battle, the divine energy had occasionally wavered, always briefly and usually during moments of intense exertion. Each time, it returned to full strength almost immediately, but the frequency of these occurrences was increasing.
High Priest Alaric had dismissed his concerns, attributing the fluctuations to Jason's body still adjusting to the Goddess's blessing. "Even divine vessels require calibration," he had said with a reassuring smile. "It will stabilize in time."
Jason wanted to believe him. The alternative- that something was fundamentally wrong with his connection to the Goddess's power- was too troubling to contemplate.
A knock at his door interrupted his thoughts.
"Enter," he called.
A young acolyte stepped into the room, bowing deeply. "Champion, High Priest Alaric sent me to inform you that Master Thorne's historical discourse will begin shortly in the Hall of Records, before the war council convenes."
Jason nodded. "Thank you. I'll be there shortly."
-----
The historical lessons had become a regular part of his education since arriving in this world. Master Thorne, the Temple's chief historian, had been tasked with ensuring the Champion understood the centuries-long conflict between humans and demons. The knowledge helped contextualize his mission and reinforced his determination to rid this world of the demonic threat.
The Hall of Records was an imposing chamber lined with shelves containing thousands of scrolls, books, and tablets. At its center stood a large table where Master Thorne had laid out various historical texts and illustrations.
The elderly historian bowed as Jason entered. "Champion, thank you for making time in your busy schedule. Today, I thought we might review the Century of Blood- a particularly dark chapter in our ongoing struggle against demonkind."
Jason took his seat at the table. "The Century of Blood?"
"Following the betrayal and death of the Human Queen," Master Thorne explained, unfurling an ancient scroll. "The period when demons revealed their true nature most clearly."
The scroll contained detailed illustrations- graphic depictions of demons attacking human settlements, tearing people limb from limb, devouring children while parents watched in horror. The images were disturbing in their brutality.
"After their king's death, the demons launched a campaign of unprecedented savagery," Thorne continued, his voice dropping to a reverent whisper. "No longer bound by the false peace treaty, they revealed their inherent bloodlust, their natural inclination toward cruelty and destruction."
He turned to another illustration showing a demon holding a human infant over what appeared to be a ritual altar.
"They targeted children especially," Thorne said grimly. "Their rituals required innocent blood. Entire villages were emptied of their young. Those who survived spoke of ceremonies where demon nobles would feast on human hearts to gain power."
Jason studied the images with a clenched jaw. Each atrocity reinforced his understanding of what he was fighting against. These weren't misunderstood creatures capable of redemption—they were manifestations of evil itself.
"How did humanity survive?" he asked.
"The Goddess blessed certain bloodlines with powers to combat the demonic threat," Thorne replied. "The ancestors of our Temple Guardians. And she established the natural aversion that develops in humans at puberty- a divine protection that warns us instinctively of their evil."
Thorne pulled out another scroll, this one newer than the others. "This account from just fifty years ago describes a demon raid on the village of Eastbrook. The demons took particular delight in torture, keeping victims alive for days while systematically dismembering them."
The historian continued for almost an hour, detailing atrocity after atrocity, each account more horrific than the last. By the time the lesson concluded, Jason's determination had hardened into something like cold fury.
"Thank you, Master Thorne," he said as he stood to leave. "Your lessons remind me of what's at stake."
"That is their purpose, Champion," the historian replied with a nod. "In battle, one must never forget the nature of the enemy."
As Jason left the Hall of Records, he couldn't shake the images from his mind. The demons he had faced at the Void Chamber had been formidable opponents, but he had seen them primarily as combatants. Now, understanding their history of calculated cruelty, he recognized them as something far worse.
And their king, crimson-skinned figure, whose golden eyes had momentarily locked with his during the battle, was the worst of them all. The master orchestrating the violence, the heir to centuries of evil.
The brief moment of uncertainty Jason thought he had glimpsed in those eyes now seemed like a tactical ploy, an attempt to manipulate him into hesitation. It wouldn't work again.
-----
The war council chamber buzzed with activity as Jason entered. Military commanders in formal uniforms stood around the central map table, while representatives from various provinces occupied seats along the walls. High Priest Alaric presided from an elevated chair, his white robes immaculate, his ancient face serene.
All conversation ceased when Jason appeared, the assembled leaders bowing respectfully.
"Champion," General Thorne- no relation to the historian, despite the shared name- stepped forward. "We've completed our reconnaissance of the demon territories. I believe you'll find the information... concerning."
Jason approached the map table. Miniature figures represented human and demon forces across detailed terrain. The northern mountain range, where the demons had retreated centuries ago, dominated the upper portion of the map, while human territories spread across the southern plains and forests.
"As you can see," General Thorne continued, "our scouts report significant demon activity at these three major mountain passes." He indicated several locations where red figures had been placed. "They appear to be amassing forces for an offensive. Their pattern suggests they're preparing for a direct assault."
Jason studied the positions, recognizing patterns similar to defensive formations in football. "A three-pronged attack," he observed. "Classic pressure strategy."
Football had taught him to read opposing teams' setups, to anticipate how they would deploy their strength. This looked like a standard blitz formation- concentrating power at key points to overwhelm defenses.
"Exactly, Champion," Commander Elysia agreed. "The demons have always favored direct assault over subtlety. Their history is one of overwhelming force rather than tactical finesse."
"Their nature compels them toward aggression," added Marshal Garrick. "In five centuries of conflict, they've never deviated from this approach. They mass their forces and charge."
Jason nodded, his football training making this easy to understand. "Then we counter with a strong defensive line at these positions," he said, indicating the areas directly opposite the demon buildups. "We draw their attack where we're strongest."
"Precisely our thought," General Thorne said with approval. "We have the numbers to withstand their assault, and with you leading our forces, Champion, their offensive will break against our lines."
"What's our intelligence on their numbers?" Jason asked.
"Our latest estimates suggest around five thousand combat-capable demons, with perhaps twice that number of non-combatants," Commander Elysia replied. "They're significantly outnumbered by our forces, which is why they're concentrating their strength at these critical points."
"And the king? What do we know of his movements?"
"He remains in their fortress city based on our best intelligence," she replied. "Though we have reports from a captured demon scout that something has... changed about him."
Jason looked up sharply. "Changed how?"
Commander Elysia hesitated. "The prisoner's claims aren't entirely coherent. He insists the king who returned isn't the same as the one who ruled before. Different mannerisms, different patterns of speech."
"Demons lie," Marshal Garrick interjected dismissively. "Especially when captured."
"Of course," Elysia agreed. "But it's worth noting."
Jason returned his attention to the map. His years as quarterback had taught him to read opponents, to anticipate their moves based on their formations. This was no different. The demons were showing their hand clearly.
"When do we expect their attack?" he asked.
"Within a week, based on their current preparations," General Thorne answered. "We're positioning our forces accordingly."
"We'll be ready," Jason affirmed. "We know where they'll hit, we know their numbers, and we have the advantage of preparation. We'll set our strongest defenses at these three points and break their offense."
Several council members nodded in agreement. Jason's confidence was infectious, his athletic experience with anticipating opponent strategies translating well to this new arena.
"One more thing," Commander Elysia added. "Should we consider lighter forces at alternative mountain passes? As a precaution?"
Marshal Garrick scoffed. "The demons aren't capable of that kind of strategic thinking. They've shown us exactly where they intend to attack, as they always do. Dividing our forces would only weaken our main defensive positions."
Jason considered this. In football, you concentrated your defensive line where the opposing team showed strength. Spreading defenders too thin only created vulnerabilities.
"Marshal Garrick is right," he decided. "We focus our strength against theirs. If we try to cover every possible approach, we'll be too thin everywhere. I've seen this strategy fail on the field many times."
"The Champion speaks wisely," High Priest Alaric observed. "The Goddess guides his tactical mind as surely as She strengthens his arm."
"Then we have decided," General Thorne announced. "We'll establish our defensive lines opposite their buildup points and prepare to repel their assault."
"And when we break their offensive," Jason added, "we'll counter with everything we have. Push straight through their weakened lines to their capital."
The approach reminded him of his favorite football tactic- absorb the opposing team's blitz, then launch a devastating counter-attack while they were off-balance.
"One week to prepare," he concluded. "Make sure our forces understand the importance of holding those three positions."
As the council dispersed to implement the strategy, Jason remained at the map table, studying the terrain. The plan seemed sound. The demons were behaving exactly as historical patterns suggested they would- massing for a direct assault, telegraphing their intentions clearly.
High Priest Alaric approached, his gaze following Jason's to the map. "Troubled, Champion?"
"No," Jason replied confidently. "Their strategy is transparent. We'll be ready."
"The Goddess guides your path," Alaric reminded him. "Have faith in Her wisdom flowing through you."
Jason nodded, straightening. "Faith and action together. We'll end the demon threat once and for all."
As he left the council chamber, Jason felt a renewed sense of purpose. The historical lessons had hardened his resolve. The council had confirmed their strategy. In one week, they would face the demon assault and counter with overwhelming force.
And somewhere in the northern mountains, the Demon King awaited him- the embodiment of the evil his new world had suffered for too long.
"This time," Jason promised himself quietly, "we finish this."
He couldn't know that miles away, in a chamber deep within the demon fortress, Jin-ho was smiling faintly as reports came in from disguised scouts. The humans were moving exactly as he had predicted, concentrating their forces exactly where he wanted them.
The gambit had worked. The trap was set. And the champion was walking directly into it.