Marcos came to with his head pounding and the world upside down.
He was dangling over a massive pit of magma, the heat so intense it felt like his skin was already peeling off. Those damn golden Heavenly Chains wrapped tight around his wrists and ankles, holding him suspended like bait.
The Demon King lounged on a platform above, smirking down at him with those glowing red eyes.
"So," the bastard drawled, "care to tell me what the hell you really are?"
Marcos spat blood, glaring up. "Why the fuck would I? Where are the elves—where are the three sisters?"
The Demon King chuckled, low and nasty. "Those pretty little things? Still deciding what to do with them."
He grabbed a thick red rod—barbed and glowing with runes—and whipped it across Marcos's back.
The strike tore skin like it was nothing. Blood sprayed out, sizzling as it hit the lava below. Marcos bit down hard to keep from yelling, but his back was already a mess, hot and wet with blood.
"I think I'll keep the Blessed one," the Demon King said casually, like he was picking fruit. "She'll be useful. You lot cost me an army, but eh—demons breed fast. I'll make more."
"You son of a—" Marcos snarled.
"Bring the elves."
Demons dragged them in seconds later. Liza, Sara, Eris—chained up, beaten bloody, barely able to stand. Cuts everywhere, clothes torn, faces swollen.
"Marcos!" Sara's voice cracked when she saw him hanging there.
"What did you do to them?" he roared, straining against the chains till they burned deeper.
"Nothing much," the Demon King shrugged. "Lower him."
The chains creaked and started dropping Marcos slower toward the magma. Heat blasted his face; his hair started singeing.
"Now, about these elves…" The Demon King turned to the sisters with a sick grin. "The Blessed one stays with me. The other two? Entertainment for the boys. Especially the archer—she's got fire."
He stepped close to Sara and ripped what was left of her tunic clean off.
"NO!" Marcos's scream echoed through the chamber like a beast breaking loose.
Sara tried to twist away, tears streaming, but the chains held her tight.
The Demon King reached out, claws trailing down her skin.
"No… stop…" Sara sobbed.
Marcos thrashed wildly. The chains only bit harder, glowing brighter. *What do I do? What the fuck do I do?*
Something under his shirt started glowing—soft gold at first, then pulsing.
*No. Not that. If I let it out, they're all dead. Worse than dead.*
But the light kept flashing, like it was begging.
His head dropped lower. Magma hissed inches away.
He looked up—saw Sara crying, shaking, screaming his name.
"AHHHHHHH!"
The roar tore out of him.
"I oppose the Gods… and release this monster from his prison!"
Golden light exploded everywhere, blinding, shaking the whole damn castle.
When it cleared, a new guy stood right under the Demon King's platform. Tall, dark hair, eyes burning with old power. He held Marcos in one arm like he weighed nothing—the broken chains smoking on the floor.
Liza whispered, "Who… who is that?"
The man sighed, shaking his head at Marcos like a tired older brother.
"You and your stupid heart. Always getting us in deeper shit for love."
The Demon King stumbled back, face twisting. "How the hell are you—"
The man grinned, sharp and dangerous.
"Hey there. Name's Kai."
He looked around the stunned room.
"Who am I talking to, exactly?"
"I am the Demon King of Llahala!" the guy on the throne bellowed.
Kai laughed—short, cold.
"Don't bullshit me. Someone weak as you? No way you're the real Demon King."
"You—" Fifth Sinisters charged, roaring.
Kai barely glanced. Next second, the demon's head was in his hand. Body hit the ground with a wet thud.
He tossed the head aside like trash.
Then looked up at the king with that same deadly grin.
"Let's do it, baby."