---
Daichi couldn't sleep.
It wasn't the first time since being summoned—nightmares were becoming routine—but tonight was different. Tonight, he kept thinking about his siblings.
Kenji, fourteen, who'd wanted to be a doctor. Yuka, eleven, who'd collected stray cats and fed them with money they couldn't spare. Mari, nine, who'd drawn pictures of their family with crayons stolen from school.
*Are they okay? Did they stay together in foster care? Do they remember me?*
He knew the answers didn't matter. He was in another world. They were in another life. He'd never see them again.
But knowing that didn't stop the ache.
At 3 AM, he gave up on sleep and headed to the training grounds. Physical exhaustion sometimes helped quiet his mind. He found his usual spot—the reinforced training area with the heaviest dummies and weights.
Someone was already there.
Princess Celestia stood in the moonlight, practicing with a sword. She moved with surprising grace for royalty, her strikes precise if not particularly powerful. She wore simple training clothes rather than court finery, and her long dark hair was tied back practically.
She noticed him and stopped, breathing hard. "Hero Daichi. Forgive me, I didn't mean to intrude on your training time."
"You're not intruding, Your Highness. I should be the one apologizing." He started to bow, but she waved it off.
"Please, no formalities. Not here. Not at three in the morning." She smiled, and Daichi noticed she looked tired. Dark circles under her eyes, tension in her shoulders. "Couldn't sleep either?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Never can anymore." She set down her sword and picked up a water flask. "Mind if I ask you something? Hero to... to someone who wishes she could be?"
Daichi sat on a bench, gesturing for her to join him. "Ask away."
"How do you do it? Fight, I mean. Kill people—demons, whatever we call them—and just... keep going? I've been trained in combat since childhood, but I've never actually had to take a life. The thought terrifies me."
Honest answer or diplomatic one? Daichi chose honesty. "It doesn't get easier. At least, I hope it doesn't. The day it becomes easy is the day you've lost something important."
"But you did it. In Millbrook. I read the reports."
"I did. And I hated it. Still do." He stared at his hands—hands that had crushed skulls and broken bones. "But I hated the thought of those civilians dying more. Sometimes you have to choose which thing you can live with hating."
Celestia nodded slowly. "That's what my father says. That ruling means making choices where all the options are terrible, and you just pick the least terrible one."
Something in her tone made Daichi's instincts prickle. "You don't agree?"
"I don't know. Maybe he's right. But sometimes I wonder if we only think those are our only options because we're not looking hard enough for better ones."
Dangerous words from a princess. Daichi studied her face—young, maybe early twenties, with intelligent eyes that held secrets.
"Why are you really out here at three in the morning, Your Highness?"
She laughed bitterly. "Because I can't sleep knowing what's happening. What's always happened. What will keep happening unless someone stops it."
Kaito's warning echoed in Daichi's mind: *Trust no one except each other.* But his instincts—honed from years of reading people to protect his siblings—told him Celestia was genuine.
"You know," he said carefully. "About the heroes."
"I know. I've always known. My father told me when I turned eighteen—part of my 'education' as heir presumptive, since my brothers have no interest in actually ruling." Her hands clenched into fists. "He told me like it was just another policy. 'This is how we maintain the barriers. This is how we survive. Yes, it's unfortunate, but necessary.' As if murder can be 'necessary.'"
"Why tell me this?"
"Because I've been watching you five. All of you. And I can see you're not like the others. Previous heroes were either true believers or broken by the time they learned the truth. You're neither. You're angry. You're planning something." She met his eyes. "And I want to help."
"That's treason."
"I know." She smiled without humor. "But what's the point of being a princess if I can't commit a little treason for a good cause?"
Daichi wanted to trust her. Wanted an ally inside the royal family. But...
"How do I know this isn't a test? That you won't report everything I say to your father?"
"You don't. But consider this: if I wanted to expose you, I could have already. Seraphina is magically bound, but I'm not. I could tell my father everything—that you're meeting in secret, that you're hiding your true power levels, that you received a message from Malachar." She paused. "Yes, I know about that too. I have my own network of informants."
"Then why don't you?"
"Because I'm tired of watching innocents die. Because I'm tired of being complicit in atrocities. Because maybe, just maybe, you five can actually break the cycle." She stood. "I'm not asking you to trust me completely. I'm asking you to consider that you might need someone inside the palace. Someone who can provide information, cover for you, and potentially sway the royal council when the time comes."
"And what do you want in return?"
"A better kingdom. One that doesn't run on harvested souls and endless war. One I can actually be proud to rule someday." She picked up her sword. "Think about it. If you decide you can trust me, leave a message at the Garden of Remembrance—the memorial for fallen heroes. I visit every week. Ironic, isn't it? Mourning people we murdered."
She left before Daichi could respond, disappearing into the pre-dawn darkness.
He sat there for a long time, processing the conversation. An ally in the royal family could be invaluable. But it could also be a trap. He'd need to discuss this with the others.
*Tomorrow,* he thought. *After we've all had some sleep. If any of us can actually sleep anymore.*
---
The next morning, the five heroes gathered for breakfast and Daichi recounted his conversation with Celestia.
"It's a trap," Yuki said immediately. "Textbook intelligence operation. She tells you she knows everything, offers help, gains your trust, then reports every word to the king."
"Maybe," Daichi conceded. "But my gut says she's genuine."
"Your gut isn't empirical evidence."
"No, but it's kept me alive for nineteen years in a very dangerous world. I learned to read people when my life and my siblings' lives depended on it."
"Kaito," Ren turned to their empath. "Can you read her if you meet her? Tell if she's lying?"
"Probably. My range is about thirty feet now, and I'm getting better at filtering individual emotional signatures. If we arrange a meeting, I could evaluate her."
"That's our play then," Ren decided. "We take her up on her offer, but carefully. Kaito reads her. If she's genuine, we cautiously explore an alliance. If she's not, we feed her false information and use her against the king."
"I still think this is a bad idea," Yuki muttered, but she didn't push further.
"Speaking of bad ideas," Himari said quietly, "we need to talk about Thornhaven. About meeting Malachar. We're really doing this?"
"We are," Ren confirmed. "It's risky, but we need to understand what we're actually fighting. Seraphina can only tell us so much because of the binding. Malachar isn't bound. He can tell us everything."
"Or he can kill us," Daichi pointed out. "He's the Demon King. He's been fighting this war for two hundred years. We're five kids who've been heroes for less than a month."
"Which is exactly why he might talk to us," Yuki said. "We're not a threat yet. We're curiosities. He wants to see what makes us different from previous summonings. That gives us leverage."
"Leverage against a two-hundred-year-old magical being with an army," Daichi said. "Great."
"Better than no leverage."
They spent the morning planning their "training expedition." They'd need supplies, horses, a reasonable excuse for leaving the capital, and a way to avoid suspicion.
Gareth, predictably, had questions when Ren requested permission.
"A week-long training expedition into the countryside?" The commander studied them skeptically. "Why?"
"We need real-world experience," Ren explained, sticking to the cover story they'd prepared. "Controlled training is useful, but we want to explore the land, maybe hunt some monsters, get a feel for terrain and tactics outside the city."
"And you want to do this unsupervised?"
"We'd take a small escort. Maybe five knights? Enough for safety but not so many we can't move quickly."
Gareth drummed his fingers on his desk, thinking. Finally: "Fine. But I'm choosing the knights, and they report to me. You're still valuable assets, heroes. I won't risk you getting killed by bandits or wandering into demon territory."
"Of course, Commander. Thank you."
As they left, Gareth called after them: "Heroes? Be careful out there. The Neutral Lands aren't safe for anyone, especially not people as conspicuous as you."
Was that a warning? Or did Gareth know more than he was saying? Impossible to tell.
---
They departed three days later, just after dawn. Five heroes, five knights, supplies for a week. They rode north along the main road, then veered west into less populated territory.
The knights Gareth had chosen were interesting. Not his usual veterans, but younger soldiers—men and women who seemed uncomfortable with standard protocol. One of them, a woman named Serra with scars on her arms, rode close to Daichi.
"Hero," she said quietly. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"That battle in Millbrook. The civilians you saved. Was it worth it? The knights who died, I mean?"
Loaded question. "I don't know if 'worth it' is the right frame. We saved three hundred people. Seven knights died making that possible. Was each knight's life worth less than forty-three civilians? I can't do that math."
"But you'd do it again."
"In a heartbeat."
She nodded, seeming satisfied with that answer. "Good. That's what I hoped you'd say."
Another one who knew. Or at least suspected. Gareth had chosen these knights deliberately—people who wouldn't report everything, people who had their own doubts about the kingdom.
*He's helping us without helping us,* Daichi realized. *Plausible deniability.*
They traveled for two days, camping in the wilderness at night. The knights maintained professional distance, but Daichi noticed they didn't watch the heroes as closely as they should. They were deliberately giving them privacy.
On the third day, they reached Thornhaven.
The village sat on a hill at the exact border between Elaria and the Dark Lands. It was built like a fortress—wooden palisade, watchtowers, defensive positions—but also like a home. Smoke rose from chimneys. Children played in the streets. It was alive in a way Millbrook hadn't been, even before the attack.
And the people...
Daichi had expected humans. What he saw was a mix: humans, yes, but also demi-humans with horns, tails, scales, wings. All living together. A cat-eared child played with a human boy. An orc woman haggled with a human merchant over vegetables.
"What is this place?" Himari breathed.
"Neutral ground," one of the knights—Serra—explained. "Belongs to neither kingdom nor Demon King. People who don't want to fight in the war come here. Both sides leave it alone by mutual agreement."
"Why?" Yuki asked.
"Because everyone needs somewhere safe. Even in war, you need places where the rules don't apply. Where enemies can meet and talk if needed. This is one of maybe ten such villages in the Neutral Lands."
They rode through the village gates. People stared—heroes were distinctive, apparently—but not with hostility. More like curiosity.
A figure waited in the village square. Half-elf, Daichi guessed, based on the pointed ears and graceful movements. She wore practical clothes and had a sword at her hip. Her eyes were old despite her young face—maybe thirty physically, but the weight in her gaze suggested much more.
"Heroes," she said, her voice carrying quiet authority. "Welcome to Thornhaven. I'm Lyra, the mayor. We've been expecting you."
"How did you—" Ren started.
"M sent word three days ago. Said you'd be coming, said to give you sanctuary." She studied them with sharp eyes. "Brave or stupid, coming here. Most people from Elaria think the Neutral Lands are infested with monsters and bandits."
"Are they?" Daichi asked.
"Some places. Not here. Here we have rules: no violence, no discrimination, and no war politics. You want to meet with M? Fine. But you do it peacefully, or you leave. Understood?"
"Understood," Ren agreed. "Where is he?"
"Old sanctuary, about an hour's walk north. He's waiting." She glanced at the knights. "Alone. He'll only meet with the five heroes. No escorts."
The knights immediately protested, but Ren cut them off. "It's fine. We'll go alone."
"Hero, that's suicide," Serra argued. "He could kill you all."
"He could," Ren agreed. "But he won't. Right, Kaito?"
Kaito had been staring north, his empathy questing outward. "He's not hostile. I can feel... curiosity. Sadness. Nostalgia? But no intent to harm us. Not yet."
"Not exactly comforting," Daichi muttered.
"It's what we have." Ren turned to the knights. "Wait here. If we're not back by nightfall, report to Commander Gareth. Tell him everything."
"Everything?" Serra asked meaningfully.
"Everything."
They left the knights in the village and followed Lyra's directions north. The path wound through forest that slowly transitioned from normal trees to something stranger—bark that gleamed like metal, leaves that hummed with energy, flowers that glowed faintly even in daylight.
"This is demon territory," Himari said nervously. "Isn't it?"
"Neutral Lands," Yuki corrected. "Neither demon nor human. The magic here is... different. Less ordered than the kingdom, but not chaotic like I'd expect from 'demons.'"
The sanctuary revealed itself gradually—a massive complex built into a cliff face. Part fortress, part monastery, part home. And everywhere, children. Dozens of them, playing in courtyards, studying in open-air classrooms, helping with chores.
Demi-human children. Horns, tails, scales, wings—every variation Daichi could imagine. They stopped and stared at the heroes with wide eyes.
"Humans!" a small girl with cat ears gasped. "Real humans!"
"Are you here to hurt us?" a boy with small horns asked, backing away.
"No," Himari said immediately, kneeling to his level. "We're not here to hurt anyone. We promise."
The boy studied her face, then nodded, apparently satisfied.
An old man appeared from the main building—not human, definitely not demon. Something else. He moved with the careful precision of someone very strong pretending to be harmless.
"Welcome, heroes," he said, his voice gravelly. "I'm Grim. I run this orphanage. M is waiting in the garden. Follow me."
They walked through the complex, Daichi's protective instincts on high alert. But the place felt... safe. Children laughed. Teachers moved with patient kindness. It reminded him of the few good foster homes he'd visited when checking on his siblings.
The garden was at the heart of the complex—a beautiful space with flowering trees and a central fountain. And there, sitting on a stone bench, was a man.
He looked... normal. Middle-aged, maybe forty-five, with dark hair going gray at the temples. He wore simple robes, not armor. No crown, no visible weapons, no demonic features. He could have been a scholar or a merchant.
Except for his eyes. His eyes held two centuries of weariness.
"Hello," he said, standing as they approached. "Thank you for coming. I know it took courage to meet with the monster."
"You're Malachar," Ren said. It wasn't a question.
"I was Marcus first. Hero of the sixteenth summoning. Now I'm... many things. Demon King, mostly, though I never chose that title." He gestured to seats around the garden. "Please. Sit. We have much to discuss."
They sat warily, none of them fully relaxing. Daichi positioned himself where he could intercept any attack on the others. His enhancement magic hummed just below activation threshold—ready but not active.
Malachar noticed. "You're the protector. Daichi, right? Enhancement magic based on bonds with others. You died protecting your siblings."
"How do you know that?"
"The same way I know Ren was beaten by his father. Yuki had terminal cancer. Himari lost her mother. Kaito saved a child from traffic." Malachar's smile was sad. "The summoning ritual pulls specific types of souls. People who've experienced loss. Who understand sacrifice. Who have something worth fighting for. I was the same."
"You've been watching us," Yuki said.
"Of course. You're the first heroes summoned since I've had a spy network capable of reaching into the capital. I've been waiting two hundred years for another chance to break the cycle."
"And you think we can do it?" Ren asked.
"I think you might. You're already asking the right questions. Already doubting the kingdom. That took me months to reach, and I had Elena pushing me to see the truth." His expression darkened at her name. "But you five discovered it in weeks. Seraphina told you, didn't she?"
"She did," Kaito confirmed. "About the harvest. The trapped souls. Everything."
"Good. That saves time." Malachar stood and walked to the fountain. "Let me tell you what Seraphina couldn't. Let me tell you what two hundred years of war has taught me about this cycle and why it must end."
He spoke for an hour. About his summoning. About Elena and their doomed love. About discovering the truth and trying to expose it. About her execution and his rampage. About fleeing to demon territory and discovering that 'demons' were just demi-humans—races that looked different from baseline humans and were therefore persecuted.
"The Demon King before me was actually a demi-human leader named Vorath. He'd united the tribes for mutual protection. When I arrived, broken and angry, he offered me sanctuary. Taught me that the real monsters weren't the ones with horns and tails—they were the ones who built a civilization on harvested souls."
"Vorath died twenty years into my... reign, I suppose. Passed leadership to me because I was the strongest and because he thought I could actually win the war. I've been trying to destroy the kingdom ever since."
"By killing thousands of innocents?" Himari asked, anger in her voice.
"By ending a system that's killed hundreds of thousands over a millennium," Malachar countered. "Yes, people die in war. People have always died. But at least they're dying for a cause—freedom from a tyrannical system—rather than being sacrificed as fuel for magic barriers."
"That's still mass murder," Ren said.
"I know. I'm a mass murderer. I've killed more people than any natural disaster in recorded history. I'm a monster." Malachar met their eyes without flinching. "But I'm a monster fighting other monsters. And when this war ends, I'll accept whatever judgment history passes on me."
"Why tell us all this?" Yuki asked. "Why not just try to recruit us? Promise us power and freedom?"
"Because I remember being where you are. Being lied to, manipulated, used. I won't do to you what the kingdom did to me. You deserve truth, even ugly truth. Even truth that makes me the villain." He returned to his seat. "I'm offering you a choice. The kingdom offers you death. I'm offering you an alternative."
"Which is?" Ren asked.
"Help me destroy the harvest system. Not necessarily the kingdom—that's negotiable. But the World Altar, the trapped souls, the cycle itself. We work together to free the one hundred heroes powering the barriers and find an alternative defense for Lumina."
"And if we refuse?" Daichi asked.
"Then you go back to the capital, continue you go back to the capital, continue your training, eventually reach peak power, and get harvested. Your souls will spend eternity in agony, and in fifty years, five more innocents will be summoned to repeat the cycle." Malachar's voice was gentle but firm. "I won't force you. I won't threaten you. But understand that choosing the kingdom means choosing your own deaths."
"We're already planning to break the cycle," Ren said. "We don't need your help."
"Really? And how will you destroy the World Altar? It's in the most protected building in the most protected city in the kingdom, under constant guard, warded with magic that would kill you if you touched it wrong. How will you free the trapped souls without the specialized knowledge that took me fifty years to acquire? How will you replace the barriers before they collapse and Lumina falls to my armies?"
Silence.
"You need me," Malachar said. "Just as I need you. Separately, we'll all fail. Together, we might actually succeed."
"You want us to betray our kingdom," Himari said. "To become traitors."
"I want you to betray a system built on murder. The kingdom isn't its people—it's its institutions, its leadership, its practices. You can love the people while hating what they've been forced to become."
Daichi had been listening carefully, his instincts reading the man before him. Malachar believed every word he was saying. He genuinely wanted to end the cycle. But he was also two hundred years old, hardened by war, and willing to do terrible things for his cause.
"We need time," Daichi said. "To think about this. To discuss it among ourselves."
"Of course. Take all the time you need. Well..." Malachar smiled slightly. "All the time you have before the harvest. What's it been, three weeks since summoning? You have about five months left."
"How do we contact you if we decide to work with you?" Yuki asked.
"Through Grim. He'll be returning to Thornhaven regularly to check on the orphanage. Leave messages with Lyra, and they'll reach me."
"Why are you running an orphanage?" Himari asked suddenly. "If you're the Demon King, why dedicate resources to saving children?"
Malachar's expression softened. "Because Elena loved children. Because I remember what it was like to be young and powerless and at the mercy of cruel systems. Because..." He looked out at the playing children visible through the garden entrance. "Because maybe if I can save enough of them, it'll balance out some of the deaths I've caused. Probably not. But I try anyway."
For the first time, Daichi felt something other than wariness toward the Demon King. Sympathy. This was a man who'd been broken by the same system threatening them. Who'd spent two centuries trying to destroy it, becoming a monster in the process, and now couldn't find his way back to being human.
Is that our future? Daichi wondered. If we fight long enough, will we become like him?
They talked for another hour, Malachar answering questions about his war, his strategy, his ultimate goals. He was surprisingly honest—admitting mistakes, acknowledging atrocities, accepting responsibility for the blood on his hands.
Finally, as the sun began to set, he stood.
"You should return to your knights before they panic. Thank you for meeting with me. Whatever you decide, I respect your choice."
"Even if we choose to fight you?" Ren asked.
"Even then. You're not my enemies, heroes. You're victims of the same system I'm fighting. If you end up opposing me, it'll be because the kingdom has manipulated you, not because you're evil." He extended his hand. "May you find the strength to break free, as I did."
Ren hesitated, then shook his hand. The others followed suit. When Daichi clasped Malachar's hand, he felt the man's power—vast, ancient, barely contained. This was someone who could level cities with a thought.
And he was offering to be their ally.
"One more thing," Malachar said as they prepared to leave. "Be careful around King Aldric. He's more dangerous than you realize. He's not some bumbling monarch—he's survived two centuries of war against me through cunning and ruthlessness. If he suspects you're planning rebellion, he'll move against you without hesitation."
"Noted," Ren said.
They departed through the orphanage, children waving goodbye, and made their way back to Thornhaven in thoughtful silence.
The knights were relieved to see them alive. Serra pulled Daichi aside.
"Well? Was it worth the risk?"
"Yeah," Daichi said, still processing everything. "Yeah, it was."
They camped outside Thornhaven that night, the heroes gathering away from the knights to discuss what they'd learned.
"He's not lying," Kaito said immediately. "I felt his emotions the entire time. Everything he said was genuine. He really believes he's fighting the right war."
"Belief doesn't make him right," Yuki pointed out. "Plenty of terrible people believed they were justified."
"But is he wrong?" Daichi asked. "The kingdom is built on harvested souls. They've murdered a hundred people over a thousand years. Malachar's killed more in total, but at least he's killing people who have a choice to fight back."
"That's moral relativism," Yuki said. "We can't justify mass murder by comparing body counts."
"Then what do we do?" Himari asked. "We can't fight for the kingdom knowing what they plan to do to us. But we can't help Malachar destroy Lumina either. Innocent people live there."
"We do what we planned," Ren said. "We break the cycle ourselves. Without the kingdom and without Malachar."
"That's a fantasy," Yuki said bluntly. "We don't have the knowledge or power to destroy the World Altar alone. Malachar's right—we need help."
"Then we use him," Ren said. "We accept his help, his knowledge, his resources. But we don't commit to his war. We extract what we need and find our own path."
"That's manipulative," Himari said.
"This whole situation is manipulative," Ren countered. "We were pulled from our world without consent, given powers we didn't ask for, and told to fight a war we don't understand. If we have to manipulate back to survive, I'm okay with that."
They would cautiously accept Malachar's offer of knowledge and support. They would learn everything he knew about the harvest ritual and the World Altar. They would use his resources to strengthen themselves. But they wouldn't commit to helping him destroy the kingdom—not unless it became absolutely necessary.
It was a compromise. A way to keep their options open while buying time to find a better solution.
Daichi hoped it would be enough.
The journey back to Lumina took three days. They maintained their cover—just heroes on a training expedition. The knights suspected something but didn't ask questions they didn't want answers to.
When they arrived back at the capital, Gareth was waiting.
"Productive trip?" he asked Ren.
"Very. Thank you for the knight selections, Commander. They were... perfect for our needs."
"I thought they might be." Gareth's expression was carefully neutral. "Heroes, a word of advice: whatever you're planning, do it soon. The king is getting impatient. He's talking about accelerating your training, pushing you into more dangerous missions. He wants you at peak power faster than usual."
"Why?" Yuki asked.
"Because the barriers are failing faster than predicted. The mages estimate four months before collapse, not six. Which means..." He didn't need to finish.
They had four months instead of six. Four months to break a thousand-year-old cycle, free one hundred trapped souls, and somehow save both themselves and the kingdom.
Four months until they were harvested.
"We understand," Ren said. "Thank you for the warning."
"I'm not warning you," Gareth said. "I'm just passing along information. What you do with it is your business."
As they returned to their quarters, Daichi's mind was racing. Four months. It wasn't enough time. They'd need to move faster, take bigger risks, make harder choices.
He thought about Malachar—two hundred years of fighting, of becoming the monster to destroy the monsters. He thought about his siblings, who he'd died protecting. He thought about the orphans at the sanctuary, innocent children caught between two sides of a war neither truly deserved.
And he thought about his enhancement magic—power that came from bonds, from love, from the need to protect.
If I'm going to fight, he decided, I'm fighting for something worth protecting. Not a kingdom. Not a cause. The people. All of them. Human and demon and everything between.
That night, he dreamed of his siblings. In the dream, they were safe, happy, together. And somehow, he knew it wasn't just a dream—it was a promise. A promise that if he succeeded here, if he broke the cycle and changed this world, maybe something good would come from all the suffering.
Maybe broken things could be made whole again.
Maybe monsters could become heroes after all.